(no subject)
Last night I had the extreme pleasure of attending the Toronto Film festival in the company of Mr. Paul Gross and his lovely wife, Ms. Martha Burns. We saw Wilby Wonderful, in which Paul had a major role. I highly recommend seeing it.
I like Toronto. There's so much to do here, and the few days I'd planned on spending have now turned into at least a week or more. I might even travel to Nova Scotia to try my hand at working on a fishing boat. Now there's something novel, and as opposite as herding goats as one can get. I'll look into making arrangements tomorrow. Today has been one of reflection, taking stock of my life, asking myself what my goals are. The only trouble with this is that I can't think clearly. I find myself with no thoughts at all, and sing along with Sarah McLachlan. She's always been good for fueling a melancholy mood. I didn't have any of her music here with me, so I hit Chapters early this morning and bought all of her CD's. One song I've played repeatedly. I should stop, but the tiny bit of masochist in me won't let me. Having admitted that I'm not as strong, aloof, and self-possesed and confident as I let on, I'll now share the lyrics, and log off for the night.
The winter here's cold and bitter,
it's chilled us to the bone.
We haven't seen the sun for weeks,
too long, too far from home.
I feel just like I'm sinking,
and I claw for solid ground.
I'm pulled down by the undertow,
I never thought I could feel so low,
and, oh, darkness, I feel like letting go.
If all of the strength and all of the courage
come and lift me from this place.
I know I can love you much better than this:
Full of grace, Full of grace, my love.
It's better this way,
I said,
Haven't seen this place before.
Where everything we say and do,
hurts us all the more.
It's just that we stayed too long
in the same old sickly scheme,
and I'm pulled down by the undertow,
I never thought I could feel so low,
and, oh, darkness, I feel like letting go.
If all of the strength and all of the courage
come and lift me from this place
I know I can love you much better than this:
Full of grace, full of grace.
I know I can love you much better than this.
It's better this way.
I like Toronto. There's so much to do here, and the few days I'd planned on spending have now turned into at least a week or more. I might even travel to Nova Scotia to try my hand at working on a fishing boat. Now there's something novel, and as opposite as herding goats as one can get. I'll look into making arrangements tomorrow. Today has been one of reflection, taking stock of my life, asking myself what my goals are. The only trouble with this is that I can't think clearly. I find myself with no thoughts at all, and sing along with Sarah McLachlan. She's always been good for fueling a melancholy mood. I didn't have any of her music here with me, so I hit Chapters early this morning and bought all of her CD's. One song I've played repeatedly. I should stop, but the tiny bit of masochist in me won't let me. Having admitted that I'm not as strong, aloof, and self-possesed and confident as I let on, I'll now share the lyrics, and log off for the night.
The winter here's cold and bitter,
it's chilled us to the bone.
We haven't seen the sun for weeks,
too long, too far from home.
I feel just like I'm sinking,
and I claw for solid ground.
I'm pulled down by the undertow,
I never thought I could feel so low,
and, oh, darkness, I feel like letting go.
If all of the strength and all of the courage
come and lift me from this place.
I know I can love you much better than this:
Full of grace, Full of grace, my love.
It's better this way,
I said,
Haven't seen this place before.
Where everything we say and do,
hurts us all the more.
It's just that we stayed too long
in the same old sickly scheme,
and I'm pulled down by the undertow,
I never thought I could feel so low,
and, oh, darkness, I feel like letting go.
If all of the strength and all of the courage
come and lift me from this place
I know I can love you much better than this:
Full of grace, full of grace.
I know I can love you much better than this.
It's better this way.