there is no rest for the weary
It is 2:00am and it's storming something fierce outside. Rain is pouring down, splashing through my open window and running in rivulets down on the pavement below. Lightning flashes, sudden and bright, are frequent and the thunder's the loudest I've heard in a while. I'm fighting insomnia and I'm not sure whether the storm is hindering or helping my battle. My brain is racing fast and I can't calm it down enough to relax and sleep. I'm thinking too much. Life got jumbled and confusing very quickly as of late and I'm having a hard time thinking things through quickly enough to keep up. It feels like I'm caught in a strange flood, an overload of information and feelings that won't slow down. Somebody throw me a line here, or something. I think I might need it.
It's hard to believe how fast this summer has gone. Two months ago I was in Vancouver: striding East Hastings with a collective of new and old friends, exploring Kits with a partner in crime, partying like a VIP every single night. Re-discovering why it is that I love the west coast as much as I do. One month back, we were adventuring in Chicago... the Pitchfork Festival, it was like a dream come true. The most surreal what-if plan that actually ended up working out. The 13-hour roadtrip across borders and timezones with four boys who quickly became good friends. Those long hot days where we spent hours on end just watching the bands play. Thinking back, there are still so many little moments that jump out, like tiny pinpricks of colour that make the end result all the more vibrant. Like when we found a mysterious unmarked album in somebody's CD wallet at some point during the drive back to Canada and we put it in the player and at that moment, the first notes of Stadiums and Shrines II rang out, so clear, and we all knew right away what it was and it was just the most perfect album for that moment. It's hard to put into words so you'll just have to trust me.
Perhaps it's the harsh and inevitable decline from all these past adventures that has left me feeling sort of odd. Can one suffer from a feeling of anticlimacticism? Is that even a proper word? I've been sick for a long time now, still can't shake this cold. Erin thinks it might be pneumonia but I'm pretty sure I'll be okay. I've been feeling solitary lately; groups freak me out and I only ever really want to be one-on-one with a person or completely alone. Forgive me if I've been a little more antisocial than usual. I've been burying myself in work and novels and scraps of yarn, building a barrier out of my habits that protect me from the world outside. I obviously have too much time on my hands if I'm able to delve into this much desolate thought. I think I need another job.
A quote from a boy:
Love. It is all you will ever have.
(... but I know this isn't true because before and after everything else I will always have my music.)
It's hard to believe how fast this summer has gone. Two months ago I was in Vancouver: striding East Hastings with a collective of new and old friends, exploring Kits with a partner in crime, partying like a VIP every single night. Re-discovering why it is that I love the west coast as much as I do. One month back, we were adventuring in Chicago... the Pitchfork Festival, it was like a dream come true. The most surreal what-if plan that actually ended up working out. The 13-hour roadtrip across borders and timezones with four boys who quickly became good friends. Those long hot days where we spent hours on end just watching the bands play. Thinking back, there are still so many little moments that jump out, like tiny pinpricks of colour that make the end result all the more vibrant. Like when we found a mysterious unmarked album in somebody's CD wallet at some point during the drive back to Canada and we put it in the player and at that moment, the first notes of Stadiums and Shrines II rang out, so clear, and we all knew right away what it was and it was just the most perfect album for that moment. It's hard to put into words so you'll just have to trust me.
Perhaps it's the harsh and inevitable decline from all these past adventures that has left me feeling sort of odd. Can one suffer from a feeling of anticlimacticism? Is that even a proper word? I've been sick for a long time now, still can't shake this cold. Erin thinks it might be pneumonia but I'm pretty sure I'll be okay. I've been feeling solitary lately; groups freak me out and I only ever really want to be one-on-one with a person or completely alone. Forgive me if I've been a little more antisocial than usual. I've been burying myself in work and novels and scraps of yarn, building a barrier out of my habits that protect me from the world outside. I obviously have too much time on my hands if I'm able to delve into this much desolate thought. I think I need another job.
A quote from a boy:
Love. It is all you will ever have.
(... but I know this isn't true because before and after everything else I will always have my music.)