she kills time like a blackfly baby.
today was a day of killing time in North Vancouver. My highschool days turned killing time into an art. I used to stay downtown for hours in order to get to evening activities without causing more rides from ennismore than necessary. I am the master of cafe loitering, window shopping, park bench reading and people watching.
Today I did a little of all that in a six hour time waste on the northshore. Blissful really. I bought a new book... 'Ground Works' (subtitle is 'avant-garde for thee') an anthology of experimental canadian literature from 1965 to 1985. I love stuff like this, starving writers who know the english language well enough to play with it, who know the rules well enough to break them with shocking beauty.
Such creative intimacy with words is almost too much for me. I spent the afternoon on a park bench dreaming of being a starving writer who could masterfully play with language.
I also bought a black memo book to write in... perhaps this is the beginning of a career in starving authorship.
Truly I don't think that God ever wanted me to make a ton of cash, nothing that intrigues me these days is very lucrative. I wouldn't make a good rich person anyway, I'd blow it all on a books and skittles. Okay... mostly skittles.
Peace out. I'll post tomorrow night after I get home from North Van.
today was a day of killing time in North Vancouver. My highschool days turned killing time into an art. I used to stay downtown for hours in order to get to evening activities without causing more rides from ennismore than necessary. I am the master of cafe loitering, window shopping, park bench reading and people watching.
Today I did a little of all that in a six hour time waste on the northshore. Blissful really. I bought a new book... 'Ground Works' (subtitle is 'avant-garde for thee') an anthology of experimental canadian literature from 1965 to 1985. I love stuff like this, starving writers who know the english language well enough to play with it, who know the rules well enough to break them with shocking beauty.
Such creative intimacy with words is almost too much for me. I spent the afternoon on a park bench dreaming of being a starving writer who could masterfully play with language.
I also bought a black memo book to write in... perhaps this is the beginning of a career in starving authorship.
Truly I don't think that God ever wanted me to make a ton of cash, nothing that intrigues me these days is very lucrative. I wouldn't make a good rich person anyway, I'd blow it all on a books and skittles. Okay... mostly skittles.
Peace out. I'll post tomorrow night after I get home from North Van.
2 Comments:
lol...woot with the loitering, I often baffle Conor with my sheer contentment to do nothing with my downtown time. He's starting to like it though. All packed up for treeplanting, btw...and Dad was in full on "I am helpful...and a brilliant outdoorsman!" mode. I'm sure that, were I to become a skilled metalworker, he would still give me pointers.
Seeing your video at the YFC fundraising dinner made me want to give you big hugs.
How does it feel to be the living KYFC mascot?
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