too much

so much i want to put in here but it's late, i'm tired.

Morning coffee at Balzac's

yesterday: Tree of Life.  a sense of mystery and wonder - how life is incomplete without it, how i've lost it and want it back.  beauty.  and that i must live my life, not set about it grimly as so many tasks to be performed.

today: that I don't know if I want to be in story rooms anymore.  I think it really is time for me to move on to the next thing.  I may not be any good at it, at least not at the game that needs to be played today.

i hate those socks

I've been watching The Shadow Line and thinking, if you can't do that, why do it at all? The sense of a complete world, a vision, unique, flawed, still compelling.  I'd like to write that once.

Tonight: i had to dismantle the ruined roof of my gazebo, abandoned by the assclown from Oshawa who literally snuck away with his posse as I prepared dinner.  Now there's a mess of boards with nails prickling out all over piled up in my once-lovely backyard, a pile that needs to get gone before the big birthday party on Saturday.  However, the gazebo is better without a roof, although now completely useless as rain cover and STILL THERE.

there was something satisfying about hammering the crap out of it and clearing it away.  That physical labour thing, in reverse: once there was something, now there is nothing - i made it go away by myself.