A Weak Return Made Stronger

I write this from the keyboard of my funky new laptop, which is the sexiest thing I own and I'll probably end up marrying it. Saturday night was an evening of unreturned phone calls and party searching on Whyte Avenue, which was less populated than usual, but those that were perambulating the pub-lined street were making up for their lack of size with voracity of bluster. A persnickety bunch.

The night wasn't a complete disappointment, Steve and I met my friend Julie at Boston Pizza (she's a shift supervisor there - which means she's a bossy waitress) after giving us dinner free of charge, we retired to Steve's place, drank wine and halfheartedly played cards and talked about sweating the small stuff until six in the morning. Very relaxing Saturday, a enjoyable way to enjoy Edmonton again.

Sunday, ignoring my body's demand that I get at least six hours sleep sometime this month, I reunited with Jenocide at Folk Fest, gave her a pretty fucking sweet coming back present if I do say so myself and sat in the warm grass and watched Sarah Harmer close the festival. She sounded great, although her intra-song banter was trite and a little dopey. I don't know why, but for some reason I have such high expectations of artists I admire - maybe that speaks more poorly of me than them.

I slept over at Jen's swank new pad and shared my bed with her sister-in-law's cats. If you think I'm going to make a pussy joke, please check yourself and give me some more credit. I can't think of a good one, anyways.

Jen, kindly as ever, drove me to the airport and we had another TV embrace. I can't wait for her to visit in a week or so, no pretense offered or required with her. True friendship is elusive indeed, and when captured, should not be tended with downy nonchalance. These relationships should be cherished and time should be made to do it as it occurs. Ample time for reflection is even more elusive.

An uneventful flight later and I was back in Vancouver. Back home. I had resolved to eat some ice cream tonight, play with my new computer and watch some "Hell's Kitchen". I'm giving myself a - truthfully - unearned five hour vacation tonight, but that's okay. Until I feel content in the field I have chosen, shirking responsibility has retained its romantic quality for another evening.

Tomorrow another day of teaching adults to speak in short, choppy sentences.

It's a day later now, I couldn't post the above paragraphs because of Internet issues. I went for a run tonight and I decided to go the opposite direction of my usual path. I found a new trail that hugs the coast and whose capsheaf is a beautiful, unobstructed jetty directly across the Burrard Inlet from Stanley Park. With each transverse foot I grew happier and happier with the beautiful scenery; the increasingly picturesque vantage points. Every time I heard the sound of footfalls or the murmuring of people I went the other way. When my own wheezing became too distracting I stopped at a beautifully staged park bench and looked at the panoramic view of My City that stretched from the West Van condo towers across the forest green Lions Gate Bridge into dense Stanley Park and through the early evening dim of downtown all the way to the straining Point Grey and UBC campus.

I walked back and got lost and didn't care…God, I wish you could've been there.