Posts tagged with "hope"


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.

life being what it is

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.

Trivial Pursuit night


Continue read­ing “life being what it is”…

I'm upgraded daily all my wires without traces

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.

Praise The Night

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.