Monday, August 20, 2007


So here I am at home, re-connecting with what I thought was my spirit animal, thinking about how time goes by quickly and slowly, and considering picking up that Farley Mowat reader that's accumulating dust on the bookshelf. I spend my days reading about narwhals, about Jacques Tati, and about the guy who started the Apparat Organ Quartet. It's nice being somewhere slower. I finally feel like some of those urban tensions are beginning to unspool in a heap at my feet. And while it's a relief, a new dark clouds pass by now and then: fears about dimly-lit strip malls at night, the sadness/disgust of As Seen on TV products, amazement that people can be satisfied with the same coffee cups and patterned curtains for twenty plus years. How peculiar it is that I can only see one part of the world at a time. It's a physical impossibility, that's for sure, but beyond that, it's as though I've got the memory of a goldfish, always forgetting that everything is so much larger. On the one hand, I know that I can see beyond the forlorn, poorly- painted jungle gym and the empty sidewalks flanking empty streets, but I've also got to remember that even if my horizon did stop there, it'd still be all right.

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