Went for a walk in the market today.
Saw a yellow-haired homeless man almost get run over as he absent-mindedly tried to cross the street against traffic. When the driver gave him an extended honk, he took a slow drag from his cigarette as he sauntered back to the sidewalk. There was no shame on his face, no embarrassment, no worry. He couldn’t have cared less. It was as if you could take nothing more from him.
I’ve always loved people-watching, and today was no exception. A little game I play with myself to figure out someone’s tastes and habits through their mannerisms. There were people on every corner, and so much wonder held in the mystery of every one of them. It’s impossible not to feel hope at this realization.
I’m always after that moment, when I’m caught between the focus and the enigmatic blur, lost to the colours and the wind on my skin, and trying to make it last a lifetime.
Darren came up from Toronto for a visit over the long weekend.
These sessions always fulfill my quota of relationship talk. When one admits to not wanting to be in a relationship, this is followed naturally by the question, “Would you go for it if you found the perfect one right now?” from the other. Then in return, “If she came back to you and said she wanted to try again, but you only had a 50–50 percent chance of success, would you go for it?”
In our little duet, our philosophical collaboration, love is always a theme. No one else challenges our psyches in this regard.
Continue reading “life being what it is”…
Found these songs today:
I’ve been feeling better. I don’t know why. I can’t figure it out. I didn’t do actively do anything to fix myself.
Maybe it was Audra singing a verse on my answering machine, and promising to leave me a whole song some day. Or the fact that I was out of the house when the sun was out for the first time in as long as I can remember. Or even writing it all down and finally getting it off my chest, because explaining it forces me to rationalize things and view them objectively, instead of with a bias of depression.
It kind of scares me. I have a feeling this depression comes as easily as it goes.
Lately, the only thing I feel like doing is writing and practicing my ukulele, but I’m just glad I want to do something.
Oh, and listen to this.
Sometimes you wish your friends lived far away so you could drive home forever, and sing off-key into the darkness.
But at some point you have to come home and undress, you have to stop the pressure of the water running down your back and step out of the shower, you have to go to bed for the sake of your colon, you have to put aside your thoughts for another day.
There was something about his expression that made you believe that you’re better now. You’re safer. Maybe the realization that your mistakes are your own to make. That you’re stronger now than you ever were, and that people care about you, enough to tell you the truth when it’s the last thing you want to hear.
Praise the night, for this wouldn’t be possible any other time.
My throat has developed something of a raspy tinge from talking all weekend. I’ve never had particularly strong vocal chords. I told myself I’d speak as little as possible today; we’ll see how long that lasts. Maybe I can drink some honey tea instead.
It wasn’t so much that I overbooked myself as plans going on for much longer than expected. Which pretty much means I didn’t get any work done, so I won’t be going to Toronto next weekend so I can catch up. Not that I really want to anymore, as the last two days have left me feeling overstimulated and satisfied. Anyway, Dan took a quick look at my chart for this month (on his own initiative) and told me not to do anything big on the 15th and 16th because it’s “risky”. I never let my horoscope determine what I do, but maybe this is the way the universe tells me to stay home.
I didn’t even have time to do my weekly grocery shopping. I’m eating stale bread and canned soups today.
The best part of the weekend was having an excuse to use the Numi Dancing Leaves teabuds and teapot that Louise bought me last Christmas, something I’d been saving for special occasions. Amazingly, I got three full steeps — which translates into six cups — out of one Golden Jasmine bud.
Those things I had been trying to forget got lost somewhere in the before I even realized it. Isn’t that what forgetting is about?
Sometimes I need these weekends. They recharge me, they give me hope, when hope is so fleeting.
I’m trying to ride that feeling, and let it carry me forward.