I have moved to progressively smaller cones. Many, many of them. http://t.co/ezjMv9P

I have moved to progressively smaller cones. Many, many of them. http://t.co/ezjMv9P
All I want to do lately is go out and shoot and edit and post, but I have no stories to tell. I’m still trying to write them, so I can put them in these cuts and look back and live forever in the memories. To dance among the motion and glimmer, and blink against the brightness of the sun.
I’ve been filled with such tremendous intensity, and hope, and excitement, buoyed by the fact that I’ll always have a guitar and a disarming smile.
Peace has been made with this new-self. It’s as if every change, every cycle I go through, takes time for me to get used to the new skin. I know I’ll always be flawed. I’ll always make mistakes, but that means I’ll always be learning.
I’ve had enough of crazy developments. I’ll be happy once the dust settles and I’m back to my regular life again, some point beyond the summer. The spring is never remarkable; it’s just a haze between the heat and the snow. It already smells like hot summers nights, a comforting mix of pollen and concrete. It’s gonna be oh so good.
Prepare to be smothered in maple syrup. http://t.co/HjotYpj
How did I find a pick in my bed? I think my guitar has something to tell me…
—Swingers
I’m in my last days of high-school again. Pretty much this. Feeling like I have the rest of my life ahead of me with so much to look forward to, but only cause I’m trying to shed everything that happened in the final disastrous year.
I remember writing a lot back then in this black notebook. It was filled with all these verbal scribbles, short passages of text, words, lyrics, emotions I couldn’t contain. My thoughts were a jumble, lost somewhere between the pain and the love of how it made me feel alive.
That’s how I feel now. Old habits break hard.
About once every two years I unceremoniously threw it out and bought a new one, because I hated everything in it. I never wanted to think of myself as the person who wrote all the things in there. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll look back on these entries one day and think the same.
I spend 90% of my time in drafts.
Dear busker outside the LCBO,
How does your guitar deal with the extreme dryness of Canadian winters?
New OC Transpo bus with auto stop announcements and updated modern seats makes me feel like I haven’t taken the bus in 20 years.
I take the bus when I’m too stupid to be driving.
it’s far too late to be doing this, but I know I’ll lose it if I don’t get it down right away.
cause the music. my god. you never truly feel it until this happens. like it’s written for this moment, when the song isn’t over so you have to dance in the car for 0:34 cause you’re home already.
i wasn’t going to mention anything until there was something worth mentioning. then i excitedly spilled my guts to trolley over the grilled atlantic salmon.
things fell apart shortly thereafter.
i keep thinking of how i wouldn’t have changed a thing if i had to do it all over again, how anything done differently wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, but that’s never much comfort is it. these are also the nights i queue up only three songs to make sure I get out of the shower in a timely manner.
aaron knew something was wrong when i broke into a sweat and took off my coat. i lied cause it was his day and not mine, but all i wanted to do was go home and drown myself in isolation and play until my fingers bled1.
i’ll always be caught in this flux. there is no arrival for me. the oscillation has always been the destination, but the waves get a little calmer each time.
About a year ago I leveraged the equity in my current house to buy a downtown condo. It’s under construction now, due to be finished in another two years. My original intention was to rent it out or sell it (depending on market conditions around the time of closing), but ever since I came back from Europe, I’ve been flirting with the idea of moving there myself and renting out my house instead.
I’ve missed that feeling of connection after walking in cities that were bustling and full of life. There’s a certain intimacy to urban living that I long for, where everything is within walking distance and people are all around. It doesn’t help that I work from home in a sleepy area in the east end, mostly inhabited by retirees.
27 storeys of glass and metal.
It’s an extremely tempting proposition. I’d finally have a balcony and view from a corner unit on the sixth floor, close enough to the ground to do some people watching but far away enough to stay private; something I’ve missed greatly from my first years out of university. I’d have big south-facing windows to fill the place with light in the mornings. I’d be in the heart of downtown, just a block off Elgin, walking distance from the Rideau Centre, Byward market, and the NAC. I’d have access to the 4500 sq. ft. recreation centre which includes an indoor swimming pool, a sauna, fitness facilities, a private lounge, and guest suites.
The condo is also a lot more my style, as these are modern, New York-inspired lofts (most of the suites taking their names from NY neighbourhoods and landmarks), each one with hardwood floors, individual HVAC and stackable washer/dryers, a flush European-style kitchen, and 24-hour concierge service. I get to pick out my colours and finishes soon, and I’m already planning where I’d want to put my furniture.
But I don’t know if I can give up the place I have now, due to the luxuries afforded to me by the extra space: a spare room I can use as a photo and Tai Chi studio, a giant closet, and least of all, a living room large enough to host intimate house shows or small gatherings.
Think I just pulled an oblique muscle while farting. What stretching am I supposed to do to prevent that? #physedhasfailedme
Official copy of Humble and Brilliant, and you is jealous. Also with the cover of the year. #rljd http://t.co/fg1BlkE http://t.co/MPOrU5b
The hardest part was putting away his food bowls, and that terrible sense of finality that he’d never be eating from them again.
Spending so much time at home meant Leonard was in my company for a large part of the day. I’m getting used to his absence, but I still miss the little guy.
I had a bunch of random footage and I never knew what to do with it, including a few moments from the first time I let him out of quarantine into the rest of the house. When he died I kept watching the footage over and over again until it sort of pieced itself together into this small vignette of a kitty who lived with me for less than three months. I hope they were happy ones.
Spent nearly $500 in hard drives today, up to 22 terabytes now.