Headlessness.

Running around like Mike, so no time for a proper entry today, but props to Jackie for pointing me to a 2005 story (CBC Digital Archives yeeeAAAAAAH) about crack use in Toronto, including comments from then-councillor Rob Ford, and for introducing the term ‘schadenforde’.  

Panhandling.

I’m a fool for thinking I can write everyday. Or just lazy. Take your pick.

Post-hipster hipstering.

Post-hipster hipstering.
Have spent today knitting, raking leaves, and making potato-leek . soup, which is part of this dimly lit, very late lunch (which includes Weebro’s first successful attempt at homemade bread). (I was doing beer (and everything else) in Mason jars decades before Hintonburg got rid of its crack dens, yo.)   P.S. Man, my dining ...

Lyricism.

There once was a girl from Ottawa Who was really much too fucking tired to come up with a good rhyme, So she went to bed pretty early Contentedly full of Greek food and leftover Hallowe’en candy.

Scares. 1

Euchre Night was BACK and blowing my budget last night. So YAY. It was delightful to play again. I got hugged by a friendly old drunk man, who had earlier admonished Kirk for not paying attention.

Equine health.

I went running this morning. Why’d I do that? A potentially vain attempt at keeping one step ahead of SAD through moving/being outside. I have to be prepared for when biking season ends and hiding inside, hating everything begins.

Genius.

Had a profoundly daft day, which culminated in going to a Loblaws (for non-essentials, no less) that’s a drunken stumble from a university on Student Discount Day. It was a maelstrom of lost sheep with vocal fry and carts full of frozen pizza, coconut water, and low-fat yogurt. But I did see a gentlemen put ...

Human petri dishes.

Woke up wheezy with a sore throat, but chalked it up to seasonal allergies and decided to do a bit of a run anyway, just to shake the muscle cobwebs out. Turns out the running app I use sometimes has a ‘fitness assessment’ thing which is very sophisticated. By which I mean it asks to ...

Fiction. 4

I went to bed before 10 last night and it was bliss. Woke up naturally at 6:30. The only bit of my dreams that I remember was hearing an Alan Thicke cover of a Cure song (I can’t remember which). NaNoWriMo is coming up in a few days and, as usual, I am half-contemplating it, ...

Local histories.

My regular alarm clock went off about fifteen minutes ago, but I’ve already been up for more than two hours and on a train for one of those. No complaints.