感谢的感觉

对世界所有暗恋的人

谢谢你悄悄得想着别人

对我的读者

感谢你阅读我的博客

我会继续写有意思的事情

a calm winter

this month was full of wistful thinking and numbness, probably. i had asked myself countless rhetorical questions, not expecting any answer back. what if i didn't study for this test, what would happen if the bridge collapsed, who lives in that building, what are the people walking past me thinking about, when is too cold for jogging outside, what kind of 30 year old do i want to be, how do i deal with my aging body in a way that is both elegant and practical, will i ever get rid of my belly and thigh fat, even if i work out really hard? my writing was "published" online via QQ archive. i attended many events, and was able to successfully transfer my placement to calgary. i am looking forward to this change of pace, i want to push myself further in a sense, even though it means spending more time at home feeling awkward with my parents. i want to be more assertive. 

thought dump

it sits there, plump and juicy and half-peeled. its insides are filled with liquid, it could burst any minute. under the bright grey daylight the skin is pockmarked like a teenager's face. not even worth the weight of two coins, i free the flesh within. drops of zest fill the air like dust. its irregular roundness is worrying. the translucent membrane skin glows like a baby's peach fuzz. i taste the crystalline drops of sunshine. happiness on earth is the first bite. 

thinking about not blogging anymore

After reading all her posts Ann thought that it was kind of pointless to continue blogging. She considered putting her energy into something else, like curating instagram stories or pinterest boards. The whole point of blogging, to Ann, was that she got to post a block of text that looked appealing to read later. Now she is wishing she was more organized with her journalling, google doc story, and blog posting. The problem with blogging is that it revolves around the "I," which becomes quite tedious to continuously read, because who wants to read about a random person's thoughts, with no consequence to themselves?

Ann imagined herself as a famous writer known for her "prolific stories about the present and past" but when it came to imagining the author's bio on the back flap of her books (published in hardcover, of course) her mind couldn't conjure up anything. That's probably because people with science backgrounds don't really publish much unless it was either extremely literary or extremely scientific. This fact may also be confounded by the fact that Ann doesn't really see herself fitting into any role anymore, unlike Ann from high school who was certain that she wanted to be an artist. She wants to know what to label someone such as herself, who enjoys doing a variety of creative acts, from painting to drawing to photography to writing. She has been wondering this exact question for a long time. It has been "in the back of her mind" and tends to pop up when she is feeling introspective. She does want to write a memoir now that she has read Trip by Tao Lin, because it was the type of writing that spoke to her, especially the end where Tao wrote about himself in the third person. 

She opened up Grammarly while writing this blog post. The tone detector detected confident, informal, and optimistic tones from her writing. She thought this was ironic. 

excerpts of emails i sent myself that i wished i could have used voice memos to record instead but was too shy to speak personal thoughts in public

October 22. Sometimes I feel myself speeding far away from my parents. It happened slowly over time without me realizing it. Reading tao lin gives me deep thoughts. I can relate to his discussion about feeling like life is mundane and boring. The way he writes in trip is very relatable and I wish I picked this up sooner

October 23. The older you grow the less black and white everything becomes. For example having a dog during the covid pandemic. It would make the dog happy to play with other dogs at a dog park but there is still a risk for it to catch something. Likewise, you're increasing your risk of covid exposure when you mingle with other dog owners at the park. Is there a compromise? Pragmatic people would say just don't own a dog. is my use of likewise correct? i saw a huge guy walking a tiny chihuahua today. I also saw a smiling man pass me with a little white dog. as I was leaving my house, I saw a girl walking her golden retriever, and then I saw her run up the street in the opposite direction as I was heading home. maybe I have enough material to write a poem chapbook about walking dogs and the meaning of life. 

October 25. Update on progress of trip reading: I find it hard to believe that an individual can obtain and use so many different types of drugs (opioids, amphetamines, methadone) without overdosing or having debilitating side effects. but i guess that's life. now i stridently march into this week. 

October 27. why is being professional harder than being friendly? every time i attend these zoom "career" sessions I get worried that I'm not doing enough with my career. I also realize talking about your "career" is altogether shameless. I am attracted to humble people who are just trying to do their best. When you talk career it becomes competitive and show-offish. You're only trying to  show off what little you have. Found a really cool tao lin poem.

Oct 30. how to make someone madly in love with me? 

Oct 31. Yani recommended this podcast during my bday zoom. it was nice to catch up with my network of friends in all sorts of fields. Since last week I've been offline. I am thinking of throwing away my phone for a day like tao lin did at the end of Trip. will update. It's hard to catch up.

Nov 1. I hurriedly did 2 assignments. 

Nov 2. I had my 2nd day of placement and it was really slow. Literally just did data entry using healthwatch the whole day and called some people. I applied for more money from the faculty. should have put my weekly "grosho" expenses as $500 grr. 

Nov 3. I received an email saying my memoir was accepted to the online QQ archive. after the acceptance e-mail, they asked if i would prefer e-transfer or direct deposit of $50. I cried after watching a particularly emotional episode of midnight diner. 

Nov 4. I watched the election numbers. They have been stuck all morning. 

i would like to stop being zen. i want to make people accountable for their behaviours. i dont want to be taken advantage of or feel like im being taken advantage of even though it might not really be happening. what is reality when you're being nice. everything feels fake. my friend invited me to go grocery shopping and then asked me not to come and instead to join next week because she invited too many people and assumed that i would be okay with this. does this make sense and is it okay to feel annoyed by this type of behaviour? i just want to have people commit to me and not the idea of hanging out with me. i probably did this to other people in the past but never said something like this to their face. i messaged her back saying don't invite me if you're going to un-invite me later. it felt like i stood up for myself, which is probably an overly dramatic way of putting it but hey, i was angry. (righteously?) doesn't matter. there have been other instances where it was clear that i was a second thought. when this happens i would just detach. or get back at them by unfriending them on facebook in high school. how un-zen of me. there is a purpose to this post, and it's to tell whoever's doing this to stop taking advantage of people. 

stream of consciousness

whining 

i am again lost in my sea of tabs that i've opened aimlessly, greedily, reading "blogs" nowadays 

attempting to fill a void with "tab shopping" 

this makes me feel like I'm supposed to reach out and share my thoughts, to stay connected 

even if i hand out pieces of my identity to the internet to swallow, who cares. 

the internet engorges its megabolism on misinformation and information alike 

paywalls or popularity contests? 

Scenes from Trillium Park

sally pt 1

september

sally turned into the driving lot of the gas station to fill up her car on a rainy morning. She was on her way to her boyfriend nathan's house, and he lived on the north of the province. she had 3 more hours of driving to go. 

it was quiet at the gas station. there was no one around, except a middle-aged man letting his dog out of his parked car for a stretch. the road was empty. this was a drastically different scene compared to the crowded city where sally drove out of, where cars were jammed bumper to bumper and people shoulder to shoulder. 

coming back to the present, sally idly imagined herself in third person, filling up her fiat 500, hunched over in the blue-grey haze. the rain was pouring down hard enough to drench a water-resistant jacket, which was what she had on. she thought about lighting a cigarette and enjoying the rain while the smoke dissipated around her like a bad headache. 

she looks forward to seeing nathan’s house glow warmly in the rain, especially as it gets darker. she associates nathan’s house with the smell of potpourri and casseroles. she remembers his visits to the city, holding hands at the museum, sharing sweet mornings in her bed, walking around downtown together. 

she savours the thrill of simultaneously being alone and seeing someone she cares about as she pulls up to his house. 

Hi, she says, shyly.
Hey! How was the drive? He looks at her intently, but with a big smile on his face. she withdraws gingerly from his embrace and looks around.
it was fine, just a lot of rain. i saw a guy with a dalmatian at the gas station. she smiles so nathan would interpret this as a good thing. he mumbles a vague invitation to come in, to make herself comfortable. she steps into his house and enjoys the familiar scent of potpourri and mushroom casserole. they head up to his room to unpack her stuff.

she spent her time at nathan’s poring over school and work-related stuff during the day and drinking glasses of red wine while eating casseroles at night. they read interesting things from twitter to each other and browse instagram individually when they need a break from talking.

sally leaves nathan’s house feeling a bit bored, but recharged enough to face the city. 

dog walking idea

It will slowly become your nightly routine. 

The night walks you take on your own will be replaced with the dog's walks.

The dog will pant beside you loudly at first but you will accommodate to the sound over time.
You weren't productive walking on your own but walking the dog will increase your overall productivity.

This will make you more tired. 

a review of Normal People by Sally Rooney

Normal People by Sally Rooney
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was a really easy read. The language and sentence structure was kind of jarring at first, but I'm really glad I stuck it through. I enjoyed Sally's succinct descriptions of the weather and the thoughts that characters had, which I could often sympathize with. I am curious as to what disorder Marianne has, and it is the same curiosity that compelled me to finish the book. I am not disappointed!

reading this book has made me want to write a book with a longitudinal timeline. With characters going places, doing things, thinking thoughts, experiencing the beauty of life. Going through different phases of relationships. That is what this book is about. I got a similar feeling from reading The World At Noon. The things they say to each other are simplistic and candid. It’s like me saying to my friend, “hey. i dont mean to be rude or anything, its just a thought. But your last name really sounds like the word schnoz when i read it in my mind.” 

ricoh pictures from august / september

I think this is the fastest turnaround time for my pictures in the history of my film career. I guess not swapping between 2 film cameras helped streamline this process. 

I can still remember feeling this relaxed. Especially today, with the abnormal 25 degree end of September weather. This was taken at Rouge park at one of the small isolated beaches. I got a lot of "swimming" done. 

This was taken at the High Park zoo. They had a capybara! Here is my attempt to document this moment. 

I can only imagine how great the capybara would have looked if this picture was focused. 

Here we are at the Riverdale ravine observing the shelters made by people that have left society. 

These were taken on the day we went to 小郡肝串串香, a hotpot/skewer place. The menu was completely in chinese, but we were able to google translate the more advanced foods. The skewers were dipped into the boiling soup and eaten with either dry seasoning or vinegar/soy sauce and diced cilantro. The menu consisted of pork tongue, beef slices, chicken hearts, you name it. We got one of everything 😋 

After the cooking session, we bought freshly made egg tarts from a bakery stall next door. The plaza has about 6-7 restaurants and its own food court with $5 meals. I will definitely go back and get their combos some time. What a great day. The following week was not so great, though. The hotpot was so intense that I ended up getting acid reflux (which I originally thought was COVID because of the persistent sore throat). But thanks to the walk-in doctor's phone consultation, I was deemed gastrically acidic. Is that a thing? 

I wasn't sure which picture to post, so I'll post both :^) hey ma, I can drive! 

sept 22 walk

There were 3 masked teenagers standing at the intersection, waiting to cross. This is the time of day when the sunlight filters through the houses and trees. Compared to summer sunlight, the autumn sunlight has a red tint. The neighbourhood settled down into a dinnertime stillness that was reflected in the empty streets. A chinese family is crossing the intersection. A chinese van driver patiently waits for them to cross before turning left. By the time I think to look back at the teenagers, they had already crossed and were entering the convenience store.

quick reflection

i was happy at the mcdonalds inside the wal-mart. there was a plastic statue of ronald sitting on a bench with a space for one or two kids beside him. there was fluorescent lighting. i had a cheeseburger, which had a very sweet-tasting bun. 

hauling my heavy body up a wall

my hands were chapped. i could only watch despondently as multiple climbers took on the routes i had tried and failed. then one by one, they left, chatting happily about their great workout. until there was one man left that i had met at another climbing gym. we briefly exchanged greetings, then he left too, hauling along his tripod and CamelBak. i was the only one in the gym but could not climb any further, so i sat and stared at the walls for a good twenty minutes. the walls seemed to be caving in and the boulders mocked me with their colourfulness. you'll keep trying but never reach the end of my route, which isn't even that high up, they were saying. the lights were on, the music was playing. no one was climbing. i decided to try a couple of medium difficulty routes. more people walked into the gym. their presence bothered me. i decided to sit and watch the more successful climbers, and analyze their back movements. i learned nothing, except for the fact that everyone was stronger than me because i had already climbed for one and a half hours. my forearms felt stiffer than before. i decided to leave. 

gift

As a kid, my parents would sternly tell me to always remove the price tag on a gift before wrapping it. If I remembered anything growing up, it had to be this fact.  The alternative scenario was too mortifying to them, they were that ingrained in whatever etiquette lessons they were taught growing up in China. Although, Chinese people will all emphatically reject any money or undeserved gift; a universal tremor can be seen running up their arm into their flapping hand.

去去去，不用不用 >:( 

安和桥

让我再看你一遍
从南到北
像是被五环路蒙住的双眼
请你再讲一遍
关于那天
抱着盒子的姑娘
和擦汗的男人

我知道
那些夏天
就像青春一样回不来
代替梦想的也只能是勉为其难
我知道
吹过的牛逼
也会随青春一笑了之
让我困在城市里
纪念你

让我再尝一口
秋天的酒
一直往南方开
不会太久
让我再听一遍
最美的那一句
你回家了
我在等你呢 

我知道
那些夏天
就像青春一样回不来
代替梦想的也只能是勉为其难
我知道
吹过的牛逼也会随青春一笑了之
让我困在城市里
纪念你

我知道
那些夏天
就像你一样回不来
我已不会再对谁满怀期待
我知道
这个世界每天都有太多遗憾
所以
你好
再见

宋冬野

balcony

She was sitting at her desk, lost in thought. It was quite late at night, and she still had some reading she wanted to get done. She had a tendency to chew at the corner of her lip and finger while staring into deep space. Her desk was facing the window, looking onto the neighbouring house. The balcony lights suddenly turned on, which startled her out of her reverie. Three people walked onto the balcony, stretching and taking in the night air. Candles were lit, adding to the bright glow of the balcony. Good idea, it was cold outside... Her thoughts drifted along with her eyes, settling on the face of a young man, who was staring right at her! Her attention was focused for a second too long to look away. She gave a tentative smile and wave, bringing a wide grin to the man's rosy face. He was wearing a cap, but she could see some of his curly golden hair underneath. She thought he looked at ease and very happy where he was. After a few minutes goofily smiling at each other, he waved and went back to his phone, so she pulled out her book and started reading. In a few moments, the balcony lights went out, and everything outside her window became black again. 

Alternatively: 

She was reclined at her desk on the third floor, thinking. It was 1 am, and she still had some reading that she wanted to do. She had a tendency to chew at her index finger while staring into deep space. Her desk was facing the window, looking onto the neighbouring house. The balcony lights flipped on, startling her out of her reverie. Three people emerged onto the balcony, stretching in the night air and talking. Candles glowed crisply across the dark 4-meter distance, which made the floating balcony appear inviting and warm. It looks chilly out tonight... Her thoughts drifted with her eyes, settling on the face of a young man, who was staring right at her! Her attention was focused for a second too long to look away. She gave a tentative smile and wave, bringing a bright grin to the man's face that revealed some dimples. After a minute of grinning at each other, he waved and hunched back over his phone, so she opened her book and started reading. After a few moments, the lights flickered out, rendering the balcony instantly dark again. Illuminated by the light in her own room, she continued to read into the night. 

Poetry over 3 years

Skinning a salmon

Colourful leaps!

glistening, burning flesh

shimmering across the walls,

it could have grown a glass eye here.

Smooth and sinuous under my nail,

from my hands scales fall,

a fish’s ashes.

I pay no respects

slide the blade across

and separate.

-July 2020

Working in industry

I'm interested in working for a pharmaceutical company such as GSK, Roche, etc.
Yesterday in conversation with my friend working in industry everything was put into perspective. The job feels very glamorous and planning-heavy. Having a good team is key, it will make those 60-hour weeks pass better.

Ideas

I am writing as a male.

I walk around the room with my arms at my side. They easily glide acros my chest, which is flat.

Blurry vlog in toronto
Another idea. Writing about moving all my belongings from one room to another. Memories assiciated with it. Short story format
Can there be an intermediate type of text between a poem and short story?
Megan boyle is candid
Candid cam
Reconnecting with long lost people you said hi to once

Bridge and Train Walk

It was a beautiful sunny day. Few clouds, blue sky. The CN tower appeared taller today. Mounds of human shit were on the path by the Cityplace bridge, probably left by the homeless people that live by the go train tracks. They probably wiped their asses with leaves. I imagined a wind blowing leaves around me, one leaf with possible human shit hitting my arm. Walking underneath the spadina bridge it becomes dark. I sit at the ledge by the train tracks and think about surviving the fall. The day passes and I miss my meetup with a friend at the MOCA because I am sitting by the tracks.

tattoo

Some days ill want to remain pure and tattooless
And some days ill say fuck that shit and consider getting a yakuza full back tattoo

drinking alcohol

Sometimes I will want to drink medium sweet white wine. I don't know when or why. I feel stressed and tired from work so then I will drink a glass or two. I stop at 3 glasses, but it depends on how full of a glass I pour.

My mom is afraid of alcohol. She thinks it will force her to become addicted with one sip. She can tolerate the idea of me drinking, though. Maybe because she does not see me do it as often as I do. There are people that drink even more than I do, mom.

I think about how I have no life experience. I don't even drive. I feel strongly that driving will answer all my questions about life. I have met people that have done a lot of travelling and they seem to have expertise on important things such as currency exchange and how not to get scammed by locals.

I am drinking a glass of $8 toro bravo merlot. it has a smoky taste and a creamy aftertaste. The next glass I will drink my $19 bottle albert bichot 2018 bourgogne pinot noir. It is more sour, but again light bodied. The description reads "Flattering nose with an appealing palette of fruity aromas (blackcurrant, redcurrant, plum). Fleshy and balanced on the palate with oaked notes and a pleasing finish."
I am wondering if it's possible to write a sex scene without using swears.

I am again scared to touch my hair.
I have all these pencils and ink pens but I keep thinking I will never make anything substantial. A failed investment.

instagram

#猫 got me thinking

Im sure there are hashtags in different languages on instagram. But what if, in the future, alternative formats to text such as images and sound clips could be used as hashtags?

idea about instagram.
after updating the account there was a consistent flood of activity. the page overall probably got 147 total engagements. I call them engagements because they were not just likes.
There were comments. my high school friend liked 4 posts. then my pharmacy friends liked 3-5 posts each. then my high school friend liked some more stuff, around 7 posts. then a person i've never met before liked 10 posts. my sister liked 7 posts. then a mutual friend liked 10 posts.
even liking something can be turned against you. the internet feels too political right now.
i just discovered donald trump's instagram today. i swear it was never linked to his infamous twitter page until today. makes sense, because he is launching his campaign right now. according to the news he bought a lot of advertising space for his campaign on youtube.

some tao lin-esque links

 http://www.bearparade.com/todaytheskyisblueandwhitewithbrightbluespotsandasmallpalemoonandiwilldestroyourrelationshiptoday/

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1981/05/04/safeway

I'm disgusted at the $100 digital-only subscription fee for the new yorker. i am interested in testosterone shots. not for myself, but to write about maybe. 

Tao Lin writes very similarily to Frederick Barthelme, who invented "minimalist literature". 

Every plot of a story has a good idea. Tao lin’s Richard Yates even has a good plot. It’s written blandly but it has an underlying idea or circumstance driving the story. In his case, superficially it’s about a bored couple whose ages don’t match up: a completely emotional minor with a bored male protagonist (but really he’s the antagonist), but if you go deeper it’s about an autistic vegan not realizing the legal consequences, and the mom trying to stop them but she is a victim of her own depression and mania. The story mimics reality, because there’s no ending. No names. 

Some good lines:

• I want to apologize ahead of time for my inconsistency.
• I try to imagine myself standing in the shade of one of the buildings at Brentwood plaza. The summer heat is buzzing around me like a broken cooling unit. I feel anticipation to meet up with friends simultaneously with endless boredom. It is set down, block by block during the summer. 
• I can’t wait to go downstairs and make instant noodles at 1 am, triggering the aging cat to wake and rub against my legs. On one hand, the noodles will make me feel good, but on the other hand, the slowly dying cat makes me feel bad. 
• It’s funny how you can trick yourself into thinking you’ll never be sad again. 

Thoughts on august 18

I walked to the library to return the book Unless by Carol Shields. There was a sunshower on my way to the grocery store. I didn’t need extra bags this time, so I bought bubble tea after. I realized the August special deal was for a milk tea slushie after I got the drink.

I boiled spinach, bok choy, and simmered daikon (or icicle radish according to the Loblaws cashier) in dashi and sugar. I caramelized onions and king oyster mushroom in butter. I am also making a batch of pork side ribs marinated in bulgogi sauce, onion, garlic, green onion, and cilantro. I plan on making noodles for dinner. But I am eating so much at 4 pm that there will be no stomach room.

I am sleep deprived and my eyes hurt. I updated my blog yesterday and I updated my instagram today with film pictures. The effort is exhausting. I showed a PhD student around the house today in order to rent the last room, which is why I woke up so early. I am now reading Tao Lin’s short stories online from http://bearparade.com/. I now want to write a short story.

I have this twinge in the upper left quadrant of my back that started yesterday.
I am afraid to touch my hair.
I only want to eat meat, but it has been probably 3 days that I’ve eaten something green. I associate green-leafed vegetables with a cold feeling. Cold but cleansing, my one chance at improving my health.
I am trying to ascend to the level of consciousness that writers of depressing fiction have.

I just sent in my “recovery” creative non-fiction snippet to Room magazine.

Short story idea 
Intro: We are inside trump’s mind. He is narrating his daily life, but an incident keeps distracting them.
Middle: the incident is hinted at. Trump goes to lunch with his wife.
End: the incident is a leakage of a surveillance video that thankfully people on the internet have deemed fake, but it was real. Trump and the two women are the only people that know.
Questions I need to be asking: Consequences if the video is real? Motivation to continue lying? Concept of kidnapping vs consensually held

Another idea
A man is running through the streets away from someone else. he sees a person entering a house. he enters the house and explains the situation. The person lets him hide in their small room with one 1x4 ft window. The person that owns the room is in the middle of recreating a famous painting. The runner pushes through the door to the other side of the house, opens another door and goes onto the balcony. There is a raccoon growling at him. The pursuer has caught up and is now on the balcony. The runner jums onto a roof in an attempt to hide, but he cannot pull himself up and slides down into the garden of the neighbouring house. The pursuer is not there. He catches his breath and walks into the neighbouring house. The next day he calls the painter to thank them for letting him run into their small room.

the travelling ricoh camera

this picture was taken with an old film camera my parents brought from china. it is so old even they've forgotten that it's ours. this was taken on the day i left waterloo, right before i gave nina a haircut. i liked the darkness of the living room with the image of a girl sitting on the balcony reading. this was one of those images i had ready in my mind before taking the photo. maybe it looks too forced, though. 

the lens must not be opening properly in this picture, but it looks fine in the other picture. i can only hope she comes to visit again. 

pentax june photos

 here are some pictures of my roomate's old cat archie. this really bulky camera has a cooler tinted lens, which gave good results, but it's probably better for up close pictures (it has a macro setting).

pictures from july on the small kodak "pill" camera

Nina at the waterloo library picking up books:
who do you think you are, 在大雪封闭的山庄里, and large print format of the amber spyglass
she is also reading the sun also rises by hemingway and women by bukowski

a farmer peeling garlic at the st. jacobs farmer market in waterloo.

my horoscope

writing with purpose, here we go. As the cat snoozes by my leg (audible soft snoring like an old man) the night passes by slowly. In an effort to make something "relevant" I am afraid I will one day stop writing. 

"Scorpio is a transitional constellation between Libra and Sagittarius. It transforms the elegance and good social skills of water sign Libra into the changeable and philosophical thinking of fire sign Sagittarius." I love this sentence.

"If the moon is out of phase, you may have a narrow social circle." Tonight was the new moon. Does that make the moon out of phase? 

next goal: write a post with HTML formatting. Maybe I will try to flexbox this in CSS Later. 

Third Quarter
August 11
12:44 pm

New Moon
August 18
10:41 pm

First Quarter
August 25
1:57 pm

Full Moon
September 2
1:22 am
Full Corn Moon

it's still 2020.

2020 feels like the longest year yet. This time in previous years I would have been on a trip, or planning my school year. Time stands still for everyone. Hope this means my wrinkles will be delayed too. I’ve thought about writing a short story but need to research what exactly is a short story. 

I’ve attempted to stave off boredom with painting and seeing friends at patios and parks. There’s a weird balance of meeting new people and hanging onto old friends. We don’t talk much about the past but keep trying to move into the future. I end up walking the same Harbord st. route nightly in a desperate attempt to cling onto the familiar. 

summer hail

Night kind of falls, leaving a musky dark grey-blue sky. 

It is 7 pm and there’s a commotion outside again. Sounds like a tsunami rushing upon the house, but it’s just rain again. Oh, wait. It’s white hail! 

I climb onto my bed and look out the window, bobbing a little. I step out onto the old creaky wood balcony (attached to the house at the last minute and left to rot for years) to look at the hail. I wished my roof didn’t jut out so much so I could stick my hand out and feel the hail hit my hand. 

The rushing sound outside is incredible, and torrents of water are flowing southwards in the back alley. I look over to my neighbour’s house and see a man in a pink hoodie standing on his balcony, looking at the hail just as I was doing. I turn and we make eye contact, and we both say hi. Then I walk back inside.  

Romanticism is dead in this post-modern age.

je te veux

I like Kylin. I like Nina. I like Maya. I like writing in my journal. Creative writing is good too if you don’t overthink it. I like oil pastels. All the likes can be overridden with one hate. I like working one day a month. I like wondering what I’m going to do in the summer. It’s the tension in the background you don’t see, like student loans or even more in the foreground, bank loans. 

I seldom look up when I walk on downtown Toronto pavement, and when I do, I look past the mismatched buildings at the condos extending into the sky, which is where Naim now lives. 

I feel proud of myself after reading a couple of entries from 2017 and 2018. Progress. Time is muscle. 

I obtained a fortune from a cookie: “truth can be harsh, but it can be helpful”. I think of spilling my guts out into my journal, a negative emotion flooding the pages. 

This all started because I wanted to pen down a scene. 

It’s raining. Or is it snowing? Either way, there’s some sort of sleet in the air and falling downwards. I am at home, in my pyjamas. There is a grey tinge in the air. 

 April. Some days seem to never end. Everyone is staying at home, happily (?) 

Right now I am reading a story about a girl with an abusive mother. It reminds me of some bad thoughts I had a couple of days ago. My life is fiction right now. 

Sometimes you just need to let go of existing in the present moment. Easier said than done though, I’m constantly playing music in my room in an effort to 

-and then it ends

 

lol its april 1 202002020200202

ebola COVID this year yay