with Liz, but then saturday I just lapsed into a coma. Slept 13 hours, woke occasionally to eat popcorn and watch half of season 3 of weeds. Today I cleaned my loft from stem to le creuset teakettle, which I put in the d/w to de-stickify, did a million loads of laundry and generally tried to to think about the Next Phase of My Life. Ate a good dinner. Went for a late walk. People sauntering with leftovers from restaurants, spadina car rumble, woman talking in mandarin into a cellphone around her neck as she rides her unlit bicycle down baldwin. Had an idyllic moment of "oh I love toronto in august in the dark after rain." and remembered the summer of 1988, when it was torridly steamy and we had no rain for weeks and weeks. Finally the clouds burst and J and I just ran outside, plants flicked to life. We started walking down st. clair, in our bare feet, and walked blocks and blocks. My first summer here, full of yearning and desire. The charm of the apt. I rented to share with Age, who ended up changing her mind. Tracy Chapman on the turntable and J's taut tiny stomach as she pulled up her tank top when we rolled on the floor together.
All of this flickering past, stemming against the questions about what next, damp toronto night. Then, EEK as a rat skitters past and I skitter inside.
1 comment:
You're really reflecting on your history lately. It's interesting reading, and I wonder what it's leading you towards. I suspect the reflection is related to not exactly knowing what it's leading toward?
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