the mile end, cote-des-neiges, and me

the sky today flirted with rain and hinted briefly at a lessening of the humidity. it's sinister, i think to myself, to send rain only to take it away just as quickly. i enjoyed the breeze on the porch while i could.

with ash in morocco, val moved out, and virgil MIA, i've found it difficult to spend as long as i did today in the house. it's too quiet. while there's a comfort to be found in the calm of solitude—and a relief which often accompanies it—the complete absence of any sound for the entire day may very well be enough to drive me mad.

i took the blue line out today. i sweat through my shirt again under the merciless sun and bought coffee in the mile end. my headphones broke and so i hum and sing out loud to myself.

o-town in july

i took a ride out. a short stroll off the island along the 417—and i fall asleep with miles' hat over my face. ottawa took me in much more kindly than expected. a better experience this time than the last. truly.

three people want to make plans with me tomorrow and i've successfully avoided bank street this entire time. 

greg and i got pizza and drank and i got stoned with him and edwin and his wife. good company and my inebriated state led to an easier time keeping out the memories. i'm so grateful to see muha and maud tomorrow. my friends are here for me when i need them.

while it's still awful, this city isn't as much of a plague as i've made it out to be—i just convinced myself it is because it hurts.

my life as aaron west

one reaches a point at which there is a decision to be made: that is, whether they ought to romantically indulge themselves and capture the names and faces in ink—or, rather, let what will transpire do so and, in the event that intimacy sours, delay the writing until such a time where the resulting story is of a significantly lower spirit.

it's unclear to me now whether it was rob gordon or aaron west—but, no matter which influence it was that drove me, i find myself in this state where i have habitually preferred the latter of the two options. perhaps it's even the case that, recently, i sought out a situation which unraveled in such a way that i would have gloomy things to write about.

it's unclear to me now whether it was rob gordon or aaron west—but, no matter which influence it was that drove me, i find myself in this state where i have habitually preferred the latter of the two options. perhaps it's even the case that, recently, i sought out a situation which unraveled in such a way that i would have gloomy things to write about.

one thing is certain—it's been working.