saturday morning and i'm not at the market. This city doesn't have a market. Oh halifax, i miss you. I should be loaded down with apples and cider, jam and fresh tofu, organic broccoli and tomatoes. I should be juggling all my bags to reach my cinnamon bun, licking samosa sauce from my fingers, and draining my smoothie, all the while planning to head to the Med for breakfast.

Instead I unpacked my bed and set it up all by myself...without instructions. There are a few screws and bolts left over and i'm not sure what that means. I don't see boisterous sex in my immediate future, so it should all be okay.

Now i'll go buy books and maybe go to the gym. I will look at flat parks and buildings instead of clambering over rocks and kelp at Point Pleasant Park, sneaking onto tugboats in the harbour, labouring up Citadel Hill for the perfect view.

I'll have to find something to do tonight. So hard to find adventures in a city that i've Adventured to death.

geh.

*

and they're cursing me
and they won't let me be
and there's nothing to say and there's
nothing to do - radiohead

11 a.m. - 2003-01-11