let's talk about our feelings. how do you feel ( Read more... )

waiting for the subway at christie station, two guys around my age in unpreposessing "i'm a university student" clothes (that being straight jeans and uninspired, gap-style sweatshirts beneath tasteful duffle coats) were having a conversation. as i listened to them, i reluctantly came to the conclusion that although they were speaking in english, i ( Read more... )

so exhausted. eyes watering, back sore. feel like i must have put in too much screen time, the old neuro-net disoriented by computer emissions. to make matters worse, my gastronomic processeses are on the fritz - badly so - leaving me dehydrated. "until he died... of dysentery." - christopher walken, pulp fiction. a hell of a way to go out ( Read more... )

The rain isn't falling as heavily now. I throw back the hood of my jacket and check the time on my cel: 5:33. Still over an hour before she has to meet her friends. She walks closely beside me, focused on some point up ahead. I watch as she steps into a large puddle, the cloth boots she's wearing instantly soaked. She doesn't seem to notice ( Read more... )

making lists is a habit of highly effective people...

best of 2007best drink: the bitter housewife (1 part campari, two parts pink grapefruit juice ( Read more... )

" The attacker struck just minutes after Bhutto, 54, addressed thousands of supporters in the garrison city of Rawalpindi, about 18 kilometres south of Islamabad, the capital.

She was shot in the neck and chest by the attacker, who then blew himself up, said Rehman Malik, Bhutto’s security adviser ( Read more... )

The street is narrow, warm, like walking the inside of an artery. A haze of neon from the signs of fugu restaurants, hostess clubs and drinking holes hangs everwhere, reflects from everything; fractured bits of colour - kanji wrought in blue tubing, the stylized image of a fish in purple - slide easily over the surface of a passing mercedes. A ( Read more... )

sit on the pavement and let the rain pour on you, your jacket soaked and refracting streetlights, washes of blue and orange on the wet pavement. stare at the rain, the pavement, passing cars. wipe a cold, wet palm across your face, watch drops of water bead slowly on your hood, drip onto your damp legs. look over at the stretch of concrete beside ( Read more... )

you just miss the southbound train at king station. sluggish and tired, you head to the northbound platform, get on the next train and transfer at bloor/yonge. you sit hunched over a book in a corner, blink stupidly as the words run into one another, refuse to come together as coherent sentences ( Read more... )

i've taken time off. i haven't been writing, here or anywhere else. i haven't been absorbing either. (absorbing the quality and texture of the days as they pass me.) primarily i've been working and fucking. that's been about it, although it's not as if those two activities don't have their benefits. they do, and being obvious to anyone, i'll leave ( Read more... )