To Amy: Don't look up. Sorry!
I took a long walk across town yesterday. I was feeling exceptionally emotional and open. Everything was amazing, fantastic, and beautiful. The city was alive, seed pods were inspiring, my brain was on fire. I smiled and nodded at everyone I passed (even the grumpy bastards). A tiny, peace-loving hippy lives inside me.
The walk ended at the Farmer's Market (my Thursday shopping trip) where I was moved to buy one of everything! Or two! Or twelve! I filled up my usual backpack and canvas bag and then went beyond that with two additional bags. It was so fucking heavy I barely made it up the stairs to our apartment. We have enough food between the gardens and that purchase to keep the entire building in fresh organic produce for a week which means I have already begun preserving some of the surplus.
Song: "Wild is the Wind" Cat Power. Note that Nina Simone is not listed beside the song title. I can not believe I like someone else's version better. I like the slow contemplative mood and bonus points for avoiding the term "daddy." I have tolerated it because... hello... Nina Simone, High Priestess of Soul... but god almighty I DESPISE the use of "daddy" as a term of endearment. Gross. Gag. Ewww. Shudder. I had the misfortune of working in a professional office environment years ago with a woman who sometimes sat on the laps of our bosses (there were 2) and called them "Daddy." Nope, not at all unhealthy or inappropriate. Or vile.
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Midnight Snack Sept 30 at The Beaver (1192 Queen West. Toronto). A part of Nuit Blanche.