Monthly Archives: February 2011

until tomorrow

The days go on con­tin­u­ously, mea­sured in beats-per-minute. Winter’s here in all it’s bright glory, but the sun sets a lit­tle later every day, mark­ing the change of sea­sons. It’s the only way for me to keep track of the pass­ing time.

So many days are spent alone, yet I don’t feel lonely. The only prob­lem with iso­la­tion is that it lets me spend too much time with my own thoughts. This, com­bined with my intro­verted ten­den­cies (which means my stim­u­la­tion comes from mem­o­ries), makes me feel like I’m trapped in the past. I sup­pose it’s not all bad, but it cer­tainly does make it harder for me to heal.

Bronwen puts on makeup

 

I don’t know what to write. There isn’t the same strug­gle or need to vent. I find myself sit­ting and star­ing at a blank screen for hours at a time. It’s not like I feel the need to say some­thing for the sake of it. There are still thoughts and ideas that linger, things to get off my chest, but they’re either too too sim­ple to men­tion, or too com­plex to put down.

It’s strange to see this path laid out before me. I could wan­der off and explore new things, but I’m still too comfortable.

Things don’t change, but I don’t think I mind so much anymore.

returns

The only thing I bought in Britain was this tea can­dle shade of the London sky­line, found in a shop filled with baubles and knick knacks where Mike and Emma took me. They had a feel­ing it was my kind of thing. Funny to think that they knew me so well already in those three days. I love watch­ing the shad­ows dance across the shade in warm colours.

I went through an entire spec­trum of emo­tions there. Through all the won­der and excite­ment were still moments of weak­ness, gid­di­ness, sad­ness, and inse­cu­rity, because there are things you can’t escape by fly­ing to the other side of the world.

I’ve since set­tled back into my old life. The trip didn’t change me, not in any epiphanic way at least. It was more of an affir­ma­tion of myself and the way I’ve been see­ing things.

There were so many times that I was far out of my com­fort zone, thrust into inde­pen­dence, push­ing my lim­its, and that forced me to be objec­tive to keep my wits about me. In those objec­tive moments were objec­tive views of myself, where I began to under­stand that I was respon­si­ble for every­thing that was hap­pen­ing. For all the mem­o­ries and expe­ri­ences and footage and friendships.

And sud­denly, I real­ized, I like me.

Larissa — Takamine F370SS

I sup­pose I should make a for­mal introduction.

My dad knew I was look­ing for a gui­tar so I could start teach­ing myself, and his co-worker’s daugh­ter hap­pened to be sell­ing hers. I decided not to buy it cause I had no idea what it was, not to men­tion the fact that I’m noto­ri­ously picky about these kinds of things. He bought me the gui­tar any­way (using my birth­day as an excuse), and I drove to Toronto to pick it up the first chance I had when I got back from Europe.

I asked Steve to do a demo of the gui­tar because his skills can really show it off.

Takamine F370SS: guitar front

Takamine F370SS solid wood acoustic dreadnought.

It turns out the gui­tar is absolutely gor­geous, with solid spruce on top and solid koa on the back and sides. And being hand­made in Japan in 1999 — the only year this model was in pro­duc­tion — makes it an instru­ment that will never be replaced. An heir­loom I’ll pass down to my chil­dren if I ever have any.

Continue read­ing “Larissa — Takamine F370SS”…

Each Coming Night (Iron & Wine cover)

I gen­er­ally don’t like straight cov­ers; the idea of play­ing some­thing exactly the same way as the orig­i­nal artist seems more like karaoke1 than any kind of musi­cally cre­ative pur­suit. But to be hon­est, I can’t hear this song any other way cause it’s already fuck­ing perfect.

On a set of D’Addaria Light Phorsphor Bronze, and with a com­plete lack of fingernails.

  1. Not that singing can’t be chal­leng­ing by itself. []

And I shall call him Leonard and he shall be mine

I was going to wait to see how his per­son­al­ity devel­oped before set­tling on a name, and for a while I was call­ing him Serge (after Gainsbourg) cause he was almost overly affec­tion­ate, con­stantly paw­ing me and rub­bing my face with his. Eventually, I real­ized it’d be impos­si­ble for a cat to live up to such name­sakes, so I went with my first choice, which was Leonard. It has Leo in it, which is per­fect for any­thing from the fel­i­dae fam­ily. I could never call him Lenny though cause “Lenny Cohen” sounds so wrong to me.

Leonard the cat on Dolly

 

I love cats with goofy faces, and I can tell Leonard has a bit of one already from the way his cheeks puff out. I also like my cats fat cause there’s more to hold when they decide to crawl into the cov­ers. As novel as it is to see how tiny Leonard is in com­par­i­son to Dolly, I’m look­ing for­ward to see him putting on some more weight.

Unfortunately, Dolly’s per­son­al­ity has changed. She’s a bit less affec­tion­ate, less vocal, and more sickly; I’ve been deal­ing with per­pet­ual res­pi­ra­tory infec­tions and eye abscesses ever since I brought Leonard home. I’m won­der­ing if she asso­ciates being mis­er­ably sick with the arrival of the new kit­ten. Her mater­nal instincts seem to kick in when he lies next to her, and she’ll try to lick and groom him, but he doesn’t seem to like it much and they end up fight­ing. Hopefully, he’ll grow into the habit.