I think I created the ultimate

And some fun stuff because life doesn’t really suck-  The vocabulary we have to describe it does.

 

Halloween – tres drole…

November- I love you.

Candle party- I spent alot of money. I think the scents are tainted with some sort of perk or MSG chem.

Post punk shows- I am never drinking again.

Penelope- I have found you.

The ultimate purse- you remain at large.

Twilight- Yes, I love Bella. So great.

The Gap- F your 50 dollar sweaters. I found a cashmere sweater for 14 bucks on your sale shelf.

Lancome- Why is Kate Winslet your new ad girl?

Python- very scary in person, very cute as flats.

Forever XXI- Why not F 21, the forever crowded mini store on a busy Toronto corner? Too long of a name? pssh!

Mexico- O.M.G

Quotes I have made note of…

“That’s very Coldplay.”

“I’m drinking wine like a good girl and here you are drinking Stella.”

“The march of the ladybugs has started.”

 

But honestly, Iced Snowberries? What were they thinking!?!

N

Forget Me So I Can Remember

Greens and lovely red roses.

A week until my getaway and I am getting the graveyard chills.

It has been ten years since my last flight. Aviation runs in the blood so I have never been weary about boarding a airplane. There is another side to it, however. Deep in my mind I have always associated airplanes with freedom and invincibility (like most others, perhaps).

Many a Sunday night was spent alongside Airport rd watching airplanes depart and arrive with my father when I was younger.

Now it seems the only sky gazing I do is while intransit to point A, point B or point C.

And it gets me every time. All it takes is one lone airplane in the sky to make my soul feel ever so low. Some where, at some point I lost touch. I forgot what it was like to be up. To be out of the way. To be on the way, destination known.

Life has been a puzzle of sorts, with too much time in holding pattern or making the blueprints presentable to others. No time spent up high, only rocks to hide under.

This coming Sunday- I will depart from society-zero and cross the Atlantic Ocean…

To arrive in society point five where inspiration still lingers in the air, and  the fig trees allow refuge for your mind and your soul, where coming home means something and the  future has passed; the past is the present, and comfortably so.

Lost luggage, forgotten items, exaggerated time frames and bi-lingual flight attendants asking if you would like TEA (cha) or COFFEE (cafe)?

 

N soho