Supercapacity

Maybe a prostitute could teach you.

How to take a compliment.

Maybe I'll go to New York.

I'll drag you there.

You said, no one drags you anywhere.

DO IT ALL, WRITE WRITE WRITE, LATER THAN YOU THINK. 

Remember?  The 26th of May?  Flamingos fill the air...  And I'm so tired of the same trajectory.  Words as outs.  We hope.  Cup/Palm it by the P-word.  You arrive at the lake in a wordless sunset, and drift away on the purple paint... 

So Bright and Pink...

Moments take us to random places, but tonight it is sleep...

How sad was that to receive, even as expected as it was in the end.  The timing of the final elevator ride, and table seating at #8, almost a mockery of chance as well.  Tempted to drop the number, and who knows what manana might bring, but wise in your madness...

Al’s call and the likely trip to Windsor, and the lack of deodorant, and the roasts to W.W. Spice - “in your thoughts or prayers, as is your habit...”. And the L Hoyt tribute, enough to make you care.  The randomness of the Marjorie hallway line, I’m so glad you’re here.  Beer = headache, but = coherence/recollection....

The knowledge of the South Georgia card to Annascaul. Full circle.  Wake up S.  Hey little Hollywood.  Oh baby.  And Happy birthday Anna.  The happiest, as it is an annual wish in the direction of lost love.  So funny how you always seem to turn that up.  Lovely last line among the Velvet Underground tonight.  I’m still not content.  But there are moments I am, and that’s enough.

Big month coming.  Don’t not do it.

Rethink

Last night’s Riesling, and what should be a motto for the coming days.  You have, predictably, fallen right into the old depressive traps.  Inability to get motivated beyond the absolute minimum of work.  A twitter obsession more grievous/egregious than ever, no exercise, and a habitual rising just before noon.  What shall it take?

The thinking continuing to evolve from the Bark.  The disappointment of Ahab’s lingering, even as it might be a positive sign, as a transition, should you become the owner and keep the leases going one more summer through the MFA.  Something for discussion on the 8th.  The real attraction is in escaping again for long periods.  Nepal, the Southwest Path, the Arsenal, the US tour, Ethiopia, Dominica...  so much appeals if you have the time.  And the way to get the time may just be to sell and not buy anew.  Or wait one more season for the purchase, as you string out the legal career to its straining point.  One more season of the Southern Cross to go?

It’s a lazy procrastination, I know, born out of frustration and procrastination.  But let’s see how it plays.  No hasty decisions.  The condo can always go up in September, after all.  As you look to plan an October holiday of some import, haha.  The months shall pass quicker than you think.

The Hope That Kills

I finally got my visa today and i am so happy. 

now there is hope that we will meet again.

Heh.  From the Cape of the Good Stuff, to the Atletico disappointment on the Main Road, to the randomness of the post-United rambling... what an end to the cruel month of April it was.  Such fun to have random things of consequence left to "look forward to".  Never have come up with a better way to phrase that sentiment - to be excited about, to dream of, etc.  But no matter. 

Here, as well, lies a certain sense of inevitability, in the exchange of emails.  How things will seem to all come together on that future day, and stop for a time, make the chasing down of the moment essential.  The timing of the initial encounter so funny and surreal, in that it will forever colour the entire voyage in such a different light of remembrance.

Now there is hope.  Indeed.  What a beautiful sentence.  How amazing if that turns out to be the excuse that draws you to Venice.

Merci

Also a quick note on Sunday past, another 5-nil to the Arsenal on a memorable day in the sun.  The haircut and trim on Holloway well worth the wait, as you enjoy the passage of time once again.  October looms.  What might we have accomplished by then?  And who will the new manager be?  First up is the accomplishments that need doing in this merry month of May, even as you continue through this funk.

Don't let me down, McMahon. 

Home and its Comforts

Back again in the office, overlooking the harbour, wondering about what is next.  Brilliant bourbon and Avett plan scuttled yesterday by random summer calendar assignments.  But no matter, as that was always going to be too rushed.  Perhaps you'll get credit for the efforts.  The thought that counts, etc.

I have given myself the week to fall back into the old habits of inane internet usage and mindless lounging about in bed.  All as part of the adjustment, the return to the fold, for at least a time.  Took a few extra days to file and pay the taxes owing, as you knew they would be, and yet.  'Tis the price you pay for the additional profit windfall, so no complaints, eh?

A favour has been called and so I respectfully ask you, Universe, to cease bringing back people from her past into her life today.  I do not make the request lightly and will not overdo it.  Promise.  Even as you seem to have picked this exact moment to wipe the phone under the guise of an update.  Seriously.  If that is the cost, so be it, even as it is likely just the normal process.  We shall see.  (It was.)

I am left a bit bereft, at the start of this summer.  Stuck in a haze, a fog.  The Lavena plan is on hold, although the birthday may provide some new insights.  888 seems the wrong option, even as it appeals for different reasons.  No other short term option in the right price range has yet presented itself.  So there is a sense, on the return, of being stuck.

Time, soon, to break free from it.  Remember Great Beacon.  The news from Dube today.  Later, oh so much later, than you think.

At The Top

May Day.  One long anticipated, and even with the missing credit cards, it all seemed to work out.  Maybe left a bit too much time for the extended layover, if anything.  But even then arrival in Londontown early morning tomorrow makes the most sense, and the lounging and the food court ghost protocol are pretty funny and should live on in the memory as a story.  Home almost exactly this time next week, just need the Westjet standby gold to come through.  Amazingly. 

Last night in South Africa was one for the books.  Hard Rock to the Scottish Ale House to the conversation with some guy crying into his Jameson and finally a detour to the corner and then the Alexander.  Enthusiasm to say the least, and I wonder if such moments will ever come again, or if there will be further fallout.  I would put the odds of Venice well under 50/50, but not by much, especially since it puts Croatia in the mix.  All depends on the cruising, as the yellow/green images would be worth revisiting.  Ah, those lines about friends and freckles and the movies.  Who knew the beard would play, but apparently it plays!

Cape Town as a whole a delight.  More post Wenger's last and the Nachos.  (ed. NANDO's!)