Monday, August 24, 2009

Armed with every previous failure, and amateur cartography

Title stolen from Weakerthans.

Miss Joana

Marcel and EstherAnd then, that is Graham on the end

Yesterday was spent at a lovely picnic in the park organized by Joana. Marcel got stung by a wasp, which was expected because wasps were swarming once the soda bottles were opened.
Later in the evening after I'd gone back to the hostel for a quick snooze I joined the gang for a $2 movie De Père en Flic that Graham and I had scoped out beforehand. The film was Quebecois made and in French with English subtitles. Really, a very funny (and rather informative) movie.

Today I spent doing the boring paperwork type stuff and standing in lines. Soon I'll have an OPUS card that allows me to use the public transit system unlimited for a little less than $40 a month. In the evening I grabbed dinner with an Australian girl, Jo Logan and her friend, an English girl, and Graham.

Tomorrow I move into my new place but I've got no furniture so that will be interesting. I may (I feel so lame about this) go to Walmart and get some bed and a bag. Nomad extroidinare! But hey, at least I'll have a comforter to sleep on.

I leave you with the lyrics of the Weakerthans - Aside

Measure me in metered lines, in one decisive stare,
the time it takes to get from here to there.
My ribs that show through t-shirts and these shoes I got for free;
I'm unconsoled, I'm lonely.
I am so much better than I used to be.
Terrified of telephones and shopping mall,
and knives, and drowning in the pools of over lives.
Rely a bit to heavily on alcohol and irony.
Get clobbered on by courtesy, in love with love, and lousy poetry.
And I'm leaning on a broken fence between Past and Present tense.
And I'm losing all these stupid games that I swore I'd never play.
And it almost feels okay.
Circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty.
Armed with every previous failure, and amateur cartography,
I breathe in deep before I spread these maps out on my bedroom floor.
Leaving. Wave goodbye.
Losing, but I'll try, with the last ways left, to remember.
Sing my imperfect offering.

No comments:

Post a Comment

 
Blogger design by suckmylolly.com