It’s been a good weekend, full of resolution and epiphanies and hugs and delectable food and wonderful surprises.
I’m running on autopilot again. Sleeping well and feeling good. It still hasn’t sunk in that I’ll be in France in less than a month. There are so many projects I’ve put off until I get back.
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.
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.