As of , the Rideau Canal in Ottawa is the nearest body of water to where I live. Previously it was the Atlantic Ocean; before that, the Assiniboine River—both natural bodies of water:——
I first met my fiancée on . I found my record of this incident as I was reading through
my Catalogue of Days, looking for potential blog-post material. (I knew
that we had met in May of that year, but I had forgot the exact date.)
At the time, among my housemates was a good high-school friend of hers,
so she was visiting for a week and stayed with us. I described her in
that entry as
pretty cool. (I now have more developed thoughts on
I have started using a paper notebook for an agenda/planner/to-do-list thing. It's been an interesting experiment.
I have a secret, which I’ve never revealed:
This city is a strange place—so much of it is paved.
The trees here—it must be lonely for them, not being in a forest; stretching their roots out and finding soil compacted by cement, soil sparse of arboreal conversation.
(In which it is cold, early morning, misty over the lake, I set my service leaflet on fire.)
I have a secret to-do list. The problem with my secret to-do list, though, is that it’s easy for me to forget what is on it.
I used to be able to make purple sparks shoot from my fingertips. I just had to snap my fingers at just the right angle, with just the right force, when the humidity was just right, when my hair was tied up in a bun in just the right way …
This morning, ﬂatmates and I had a brief dance party in the living room. It was a lot of fun–it felt long overdue. It made me think of a note I had written to myself about a year ago.
(In which I have to blow my nose.)
(Eternal praise! eternal praise!)
Spotted Jack Mitchell searching the Perseus English-Latin lexicon for the word ‘virtuous’.
As I was walking down Duncan street last Sunday evening, I came across a tree that that had a face—eyes, a nose and a mouth affixed to its bark. I paused to admire it and take a picture—but at this point I was accosted by a couple of children who were hanging out in the yard of the house to my left. Fortunately, being accosted by children happens to number among my favourite hobbies.
I was bored this afternoon, so I ate a raw clove of garlic.
Whatever is necessary that such dance parties as that of last night should happen again—that’s what matters to me. That everybody should be able to dance with their friends in a safe and comfortable space and know this and dance freely and enjoy it and have lots of fun, knowing that they are among friends—that is what is most worthwhile to me.
While skating at the Oval this afternoon with a few friends, I felt compelled to offer an explanation for why I was alternating smooth skating with bouts of stumbling: “Sometimes I space out for a moment and suddenly I’m no longer in the zone! But it’s okay, I just take a moment to center myself and get back in the groove.” My friend thought this remark expressed a truth about my essence. I think he was right; also, I am sure my skates were not laced tightly enough.
I made a remark shortly after I came in the door—paraphrased from David Lebovitz—about the state of the Parisian baguette: Emma is this moment recording it in her quote-book. I am flattered.
(Setting off for Halifax; musing; killing time.)