Good Things

Ahead by a Century

Do you know the Canadian band the Tragically Hip. If not, you should…they’re something so very special. Here’s one of my favorites for you to listen to (the words are pasted below if you want to sing along):

First thing we’d climb a tree
And maybe then we’d talk
Or sit silently
And listen to our thoughts
With illusions of someday
Cast in a golden light
No dress rehearsal
This is our life

And that’s where the hornet stung me
And I had a feverish dream
With revenge and doubt
Tonight, we smoke them outYou are ahead by a century
You are ahead by a century
You are ahead by a century

Stare in the morning shroud
And then the day began
I tilted your cloud
You tilted my hand
Rain falls in real time
And rain fell through the night
No dress rehearsal, this is our lifeBut that’s when the hornet stung me
And I had a serious dream
With revenge and doubt
Tonight, we smoked them outYou are ahead by a century
You are ahead by a century
You are ahead by a centuryYou are ahead by a century
You are ahead by a century
You are ahead by a century
And disappointing you is gettin’ me down

Beautiful, eh? I know. ♥️ I came across this article recently and wanted to share it with you:

As an immigrant, I wanted to understand Canada’s fascination with the Tragically Hip. This is what I found

How the Hip gave writer Lindsay Pereira the key to understanding not just a culture, but a people

Posted: March 04, 2021  
Last Updated: March 05, 2021 

Tragically Hip
‘How could a band that had performed for more than three decades, with more than 13 studio albums and 50 singles to its credit, not be world famous?’ writer Lindsay Pereira, who grew up in India unaware of who the Tragically Hip were, asks. (Andrew Chin; graphic by CBC)

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Written by Lindsay Pereira.


Images of a weeping prime minister are what alerted me to the existence of the Tragically Hip, undoubtedly my most absurd introduction to a rock band. 

I see now that it was also fitting for a group fronted by someone as unusual as Gordon Edgar Downie. He died exactly one month and 17 days after I set foot in Canada, so most early impressions of my newly adopted country were crowded with people on the subway wearing T-shirts proclaiming “In Gord we Trust.” I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau wept on television as he delivered his tribute on Oct. 18, 2017, the day after Downie died, and one of the things he said prompted me to take a closer look at these musicians: “Gord loved every hidden corner,” said Trudeau, “every story, every aspect of this country that he celebrated his whole life.”

https://amp.cbc.ca/embed/index.html?mediaId=1076010563796&embed_type=videoplayer#amp=1Remembering Gord Downie of the Tragically Hip.  2:51

All around me that week, local venues dimmed their lights and audiences at hockey games stood in dedicated silence. It was the sort of respect traditionally reserved for heads of state, so I began spending as much time reading about the Hip as I did on job hunting. Who were these people, I wondered, and why had they left an entire country so bereft?

I had arrived in Toronto from Mumbai to spend more time with family members who lived here. What I had listened to while growing up reflected only what music companies thought we would all like to hear. There was Michael Jackson, of course, and Madonna, as well as bands like Guns ‘N’ Roses and Scorpions. Bryan Adams was a rare example from Canada, but one so successful that he would eventually add India as a stop on every one of his world tours. Anyone and anything that was commercially successful in America or Britain would inadvertently find its way to our shores, which meant that musicians doing anything out of the ordinary didn’t stand a chance until the internet arrived to save us. 

Every rock band I knew — from Aerosmith to Nirvana — had been created by young people trying to connect with their peers. Few had anything new to say after their third or fourth album, let alone their 10th. What the Hip had done, almost effortlessly, was tap into the collective consciousness of a generation and take them along on a journey as enriching when it ended as when it began. I could list the number of bands with that kind of influence on one hand: maybe the Grateful Dead, the Fall or Phish. If the Hip wasn’t as famous in Asia, was it simply because they didn’t tour that part of the world as often as their peers did? Was it because Gord knew he already had a huge audience for everything he had to say?

The first surprise, once I started diving in, was how prolific the Hip had been. How could a band that had performed for more than three decades, with more than 13 studio albums and 50 singles to its credit, not be world famous? How could I have heard of lesser groups that imploded soon after their debuts and not know about the Hip? The more time I spent looking for an answer, the easier it became to see why these unassuming rock stars from Ontario had turned their back on celebrity.

Over the months that followed, as I adjusted to a new life, two specific songs gave me glimpses of what made Downie so special. The first was “Ahead by a Century” from 1996’s Trouble at the Henhouse, which I was first drawn to by a cover version performed by Tori Amos while she was on tour in Canada. By the time I heard the original and watched the quietly absorbing music video, I knew this was something I wouldn’t forget in a hurry. It was the deceptive simplicity of the writing that moved me, an image of two young people sitting in a tree and celebrating the moment they were in. “No dress rehearsal, this is our life.”

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The second song that gripped me was “It’s a Good Life if you Don’t Weaken,” off the Hip’s eighth album, In Violet Light. I was familiar with the book that had inspired it, a gorgeous graphic novel by Canadian cartoonist Seth, but what Downie had created felt like a peculiar list of directives for a way of living worth aspiring to. 

“Find somewhere to go,” he sang. “Let’s get friendship right,” and “Let’s swear that we will get with the times.” It was hypnotic, with phrases like “improvisational skills” and “countervailing woes” thrown in. I had no idea a rock song could do that. This was careful writing, the words cherry-picked by someone attempting to pin down the intangible, the way only hardworking poets managed to do.

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Strewn across the band’s discography were also references to things that were quintessentially Canadian. “I think it was Algonquin Park, it was so cold and winter dark,” Downie sang on “The Bear,” from 2000’s Music @ Work. On “A Beautiful Thing” from In Violet Light, there was, “So randomly somebody calls, the phone rings and it brings Niagara Falls.” “Fifty Mission Cap” from Fully Completely spoke about the disappearance of hockey icon Bill Barilko. Everywhere else were local names and places, from Millhaven Maximum Security in Bath, Ont., to the city of Sault Ste. Marie; Ontario’s Regent Theatre to Quebec’s Lake Memphremagog; Mistaken Point Ecological Reserve in Newfoundland to the 100th meridian west through Manitoba and Nunavut.

After months spent listening to this music, I watched Long Time Running, the 2017 documentary chronicling the Man Machine Poemtour. It was legendary, culminating in the band’s final performance on Aug. 20, 2016, in Kingston. Nothing prepared me for the naked outpouring of emotion, with fans singing along at every venue, stopping only to wipe their eyes. It showed me what it must have been like to witness the Hip in the flesh, to watch these unassuming men play the music they had created over 30 years, growing up and old alongside the people who gathered to watch them.

https://amp.cbc.ca/embed/index.html?mediaId=748012611949&embed_type=videoplayer#amp=1Man Machine Poem tour, Kingston, Ont., Aug. 20, 2016  4:48

What the Hip gave me, eventually, was a key to understanding not just a culture but a people. The band’s songs reflected the hopes and aspirations of city dwellers as well as small towners, recognising a commonality in this shared experience that I began to appreciate as an outsider. The people wearing “In Gord we Trust” T-shirts weren’t just fans; they were identifying themselves as members of a club that had used this music as a soundtrack to their lives. 

The songs were like sonic milestones, marking loves, losses and a thousand tiny, incendiary moments. The Hip sang about what it knew, which made its music deeply, intensely personal. Everything the band played celebrated the notion of something eternal tucked away within the perfectly ordinary, which is probably why the Hip’s music resonates with as many people as it continues to. It’s why Justin Trudeau wept.

The nicest thing about the Hip, for me, is how I slowly began to treat the band’s music less as an artifact and more like a living companion. To be able to hum along made me happy, and feel a part of something bigger. That may be what fandom has always been about, of course, but I had never felt that need more than when I found myself in a country and culture radically different from what I had once called home.

It has been three years since I encountered Downie, Rob Baker, Johnny Fay, Paul Langlois, and Gord Sinclair, and I now find myself turning to these songs with the kind of regularity one reserves for comfort food. Snatches of their music now come to mind when I find myself outside Toronto, on long, empty streets bookended by farmland, where it seems as if the big cities have ceased to exist. There is a strange and intoxicating beauty in those moments, as I think of quiet lives being lived behind the townhouses and detached homes that fly past. This is the elusive essence of what Downie spent his life trying to turn into a song; now and again, it feels as if I almost get it.

A week ago, I saw a profile on a dating app with the request, “Will go out with anyone who can converse in Hip lyrics.” 

Yes, I thought to myself. I can see why that makes sense.

Xxx

Good Things

Not Forgotten

It’s been 17 years since my dad passed away.

I miss him madly. I think of him all the time and wonder what he would be like now, and what I would be like if I hadn’t lost him. I wonder what he would think of the person that I’ve become, and I often wonder what he would think of my beautiful Muppet of a child. I think he would dig her – who wouldn’t? She’s a cool kid. ✨

Losing him that early in my life had a tremendous impact on me, and completely altered the person that I was on course to becoming. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s shortly after I started university (I had just turned 17), and I must confess to not handling it all terribly well. I went through all of the expected reactions (and a few not-so-expected), and I found it hard to engage in the business of school. I wanted out, I didn’t do much, and it remains one of life’s great mysteries how I graduated with a Bachelor’s degree at all…but thankfully I did. After university, my acceptance of the situation with my dad only got worse as I faced all of the shitty milestones of dealing with a parent with Alzheimer’s: taking their license away, arranging home care assistance, and eventually moving him into a full-time Care Home facility. The stress and pressure that I felt was massive, and I struggled to deal with it, to find balance in my life. I acted out in a series of bad decisions, forever making shitty relationship decisions that defined most of my 20s (and 30s, let’s be real). I struggled to find my way, never staying too long in any one place, never letting anyone get too close…just in case they ended up leaving me as well. It was messy – I WAS MESSY. Yet I put on such a great outward appearance, pretending that all was cool and I was good – I was anything but good. 😫

Then things started to change. I turned 40 and finally felt like somewhat of a grown up (sort of). I started settling into the life that I had made for myself, and I began to treasure it, instead of taking shit for granted and trying to sabotage every single bloody thing. I quit chasing stupid decisions, I started choosing ME first, and low and behold….things got better. I got better. I felt better, it was amazing! 🙌

When I started choosing me, doors opened that I hadn’t even noticed before. I made my way through them boldly, done with a lifetime of pussyfooting around. I learned to say no a whole big bunch – and had zero remorse about it. (Note: still don’t) I focused on making the house I had bought into a real home, filling it with things and animals that I love (I’m a proud fish parent now, and my pups love looking at their Fishie siblings, hurray!). I’m happy here, I’m comfortable now…I used to feel so restless, but those feelings are mostly gone. And I love it. ♥️

I’m at a point in life where things will be changing again soon – nothing big, all good stuff….and I feel so absolutely at ease with things these days. It’s beautiful. I’ve taken up Transcendental Meditation, and spend 20 minutes twice a day on that – and I love it. Prioritizing myself and the things that make me feel good is great for everyone around me – I wish I had figured this out earlier in life. I probably wasn’t ready then – good thing I am now.

I’ve come so far since I lost my dad, and I hope he would be proud of me. I chat with him sometimes, and it brings great comfort to my soul to think of him chillin’ with the angels, watching over me. ♥️

I hope he likes what he sees. ✨

Good Things

Happy Birthday! 🎂

Happy Birthday to my long term love William Shakespeare!! (it’s also the anniversary of his death, but….we don’t focus on the negative ’round these parts) Our love affair began with me reading “Romeo and Juliet” when I was 8 years old (and yes, naysayers, I totally understood it!)…and continues to this day. We get each other – it’s a pretty deep and real love thing. 🙂 To honor him, I give you some of his finest…. 🙂

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Clearly Mr. Shakespeare knew some of the places I have worked over the years.... ;)
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Happy Birthday, my love! 🙂

xxx

Good Things

Sage Advice

Someone I know posted this online, and I had to share it with you – I seem to think it’s something Drew Barrymore posted on Instagram, but I could be wrong (it’s been known to happen):

How’s that for some truth? My life je more than half over, sadly…and I really feel this need to make the second act the BEST act. I’ve got to enjoy what health I’ve got going on, I’ve got to prioritize the things and people that matter, I need to simplify simplify simplify…and I need to forgive myself for all my wrongdoings. I’ve not turned out THAT bad – but why not use the time I have left to be the very, very best version of me that I can be?

Seems like a good use of time if you ask me. ✨

Xxx

Good Things

Open Book

I’ve never been a fan of Jessica Simpson’s music – I didn’t have anything against her, but she just wasn’t on my listening radar. I didn’t see her show on MTV either, but I was certainly aware of it (of the chicken v. tuna controversy, I recall exclaiming at the time that she had to be putting that shit on for TV as nobody could be grown and not know the difference between chicken and tuna). She was always covered in the magazines and pop culture media, so I suppose that my first real awareness of her came from the press discussing how “fat” she was, which I couldn’t understand for the life of me. Fat? Excuse me?? In what world was that tiny little slip of a woman fat? What bullshit. It’s no wonder that the majority of women these days are raised to hate themselves – the media can be so vile.

Anyway, I came across her book recently and decided to check it out – and, somewhat surprisingly, I’m so glad that I did. She tells the tale of her life with bracing honesty, something that is frankly refreshing as hell. She admits to feelings of jealousy and to her own shitty behavior in a way that so many celebs avoid…I loved that. She shared excerpts of her journals (I don’t think I would be brave enough to broadcast some of the tales I’ve committed to the page of my journals over the years!), she talked frequently about the process of journaling and what that’s meant to her – all good stuff.

I can’t imagine a life like hers – she has taken her GED, singing talent, and good looks and managed to make all of that into a billion dollar business. I respect the shit out of that, you know? Some folks have the kind of mind that sees opportunity at every door…I am sadly not that kind of folk. I LONG for a way to make a living that’s not ‘working for the man’…I want to work for myself, find things that are exhilarating and fulfilling – and make enough money to live comfortably without worry. I haven’t found that thing for me yet, and, at the ripe old age of 47, I fear that I never will. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, and I think it may be too late to forge a new path and start a new career, which stinks. I’ve got about 18-20 years of working left (that’s so gross…I wish I was on the Freedom 55 retirement plan!), and I would like for them to be pleasant, enriching years for me. I just don’t think that’s going to happen. 😔

By choosing education – and now education within the non-profit arena – I’ve guaranteed myself a life that will never be rich. I won’t have the million(s) needed for retirement unless I win a lotto, which seems rather unlikely, sadly. I know that I can take great personal satisfaction in the work that I’ve done and the difference I’ve made – and I do – but some compensation would be nice. ♥️

Instead, I will continue to dream of working for myself, of coming up with one really good idea that sets the world on fire 🔥, that one thing that will get me out of this rut of making ends meet and catapult me into a life of less stress and so much more fulfillment. Until then? I’m going to keep dreaming. That idea is out there waiting for me, I just know it. ✨

Xxx

Good Things

First Prize

This is one of my very favorites – I’m not cool enough to be on TikTok, but I’ve had friends send me the amazing chanteuse Nati Dreddd – this here is one of the best. It combines the things I love – a drunken Scotsman, a kilt, saucy fun….and it sounds like a sea shanty. Love. ♥️

You’re welcome, friends! ✨

Xxx

Good Things

Meet Prancer

Dog foster parent posted this on Facebook for her current foster Prancer – and I can’t stop laughing:

Ok, I’ve tried. I’ve tried for the last several months to post this dog for adoption and make him sound…palatable. The problem is, he’s just not. There’s not a very big market for neurotic, man hating, animal hating, children hating dogs that look like gremlins. But I have to believe there’s someone out there for Prancer, because I am tired and so is my family. Every day we live in the grips of the demonic Chihuahua hellscape he has created in our home. If you own a Chihuahua you probably know what I’m talking about. He’s literally the Chihuahua meme that describes them as being 50% hate and 50% tremble. If you’re intrigued and horrified at how this animal sounds already, just wait….there’s more.

Prancer came to me obese, wearing a cashmere sweater, with a bacon egg n cheese stuffed in his crate with him. I should have known in that moment this dog would be a problem. He was owned by an elderly woman who treated him like a human and never socialized him. Sprinkle in a little genetic predisposition for being nervous, and you’ve concocted a neurotic mess, AKA Prancer. His first week he was too terrified to have a personality. As awful as it sounds, I kind of liked him better that way. He was quiet, and just laid on the couch. Didn’t bother anyone. I was excited to see him come out of his shell and become a real dog. I am convinced at this point he is not a real dog, but more like a vessel for a traumatized Victorian child that now haunts our home.

Prancer only likes women. Nothing else. He hates men more than women do, which says a lot. If you have a husband don’t bother applying, unless you hate him. Prancer has lived with a man for 6 months and still has not accepted him. He bonds to a woman/women, and takes his job of protection seriously. He offers better protection than capitol security. This also extends to other animals. Have other dogs? Cats? Don’t apply unless they like being shaken up like a ragdoll by a 13lb rage machine. This may be confusing to people, as he currently lives with my other 7 dogs and 12 cats. That’s because we have somewhat come to an agreement that it’s wrong to attack the other animals. But you know that episode of The Office where Michael Scott silently whispers “I’ll kill you.” to Toby? That’s Prancer having to begrudgingly coexist with everyone when I’m around.

We also mentioned no kids for Prancer. I think at this point, you can imagine why. He’s never been in the presence of a child, but I can already imagine the demonic noises and shaking fury that would erupt from his body if he was. Prancer wants to be your only child.

So what are his good traits? He is loyal beyond belief, although to tell you a secret his complex is really just a facade for his fear. If someone tried to kill you I can guarantee he would run away screeching. But as far as companionship, you will never be alone again. He likes to go for car rides, he is housebroken, he knows a few basic commands, he is quiet and non destructive when left alone at home, and even though we call him bologna face he is kind of cute to look at. He also “smiles” when he is excited. His ideal home would be with a single woman, a mother and daughter, or a lesbian couple. You can’t live in an apartment or a condo unless you want him to ankle bite your neighbors. We already addressed the men and children situation. If you have people over he would have to be put away like he’s a vacuum. I know finding someone who wants a chucky doll in a dogs body is hard, but I have to try.

Prancer is available through Second Chance Pet Adoption League. He is in New Jersey but can be adopted anywhere in the general tri state area. If you’ve always wanted your own haunted Victorian child in the body of a small dog that hates men and children, please email njwoof@cs.com. Oh, also he’s only 2yrs old and will probably live to be 21 through pure spite, so take that into account if you’re interested.

Hahahahaha – don’t you love it? I hope Prancer finds the home of his dreams, bless his crabby little heart! ♥️

Xxx

Good Things

What I Know

Yesterday was my 47th birthday – I know, I’m shocked, too…I barely look a day over 35! 😉 It was nice having my birthday fall on a Saturday – and this year’s celebration turned out to be one of the best I’ve ever had. I had breakfast and coffee in bed, a trip to Austin for Gus’s World Famous Fried Chicken for lunch (so friggin delicious, no lie!), back to SA for kayaking on the river through the King William district, ice cream BEFORE dinner from Baskin Robbins…and cauliflower crust pizza (with pineapple on it) for dinner – followed by some tv shows at home and just chilling. It was the perfect day from tip to toe – I’m so thankful for my peeps who love me and listen to me enough to know the things I like to do….they made my day simply the best. How lucky am I?

I would appreciate a day like that any year – but, in light of all that’s gone down in the past 13 months, yesterday was truly so special. My one takeaway (apart from the fact that I could work from home forever and be a-okay with that) from all of this is a sincere appreciation for the little things – I don’t need grand gestures to be happy. What I need is those I love, doing the little things that I love – that’s it. That’s all. I used to think that grand gestures were all that really mattered – they aren’t. Happiness is receiving coffee in bed, made just the way you like it. It’s time set aside in the day to cuddle puppy dogs. It’s getting dessert before dinner (always a winning idea, btw). It’s time spent with people who understand you – and love you anyway. Hurray!

Come on, 47…let’s do this. 🙌

Xxx

Good Things

What’s the Frequency, Kenneth

Some folks operate on a completely different frequency from most everyone else around them, they just don’t connect with the masses…and I believe that I am one of those people. I don’t think like most others do, I don’t do the same kinds of things as other people are inclined to do…I’m just basically an odd duck. I have tried to do a better job of fitting in with the world around me, but the results of these efforts have been bloody disastrous, not to mention more than a lot comical. I guess I was just born to stand out – and not fit in.

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I have come to accept this, and most of the time I revel in my weirdness. I am flattered when someone comments on the odd uniqueness of me, and if I was to be called boring, I would probably weep real tears. However, I have come to realize that while I may think this is an awesome way to be, it is not awesome even a smidge to have to try to deal with me. The people around me have had to put up with a lot of shit from me over the years,  and….well, that’s probably not fair. I’m not entirely sure why this has come to my attention recently, but it has. I feel like I should contact everyone I’ve ever known, everyone I’ve ever dated (now there’s a list), everyone I’ve ever worked with, and try to make amends, AA-style. I need to somehow tell them that I’m sorry that I’ve been strange, odd, and difficult to tolerate. I need to apologize and acknowledge that my quest to find my best self has interfered/wreaked havoc on their existence…and I need to say sorry for that. I don’t really know the way to fix all of this, but believe me, I would sure like to. I know some very kind people, it seems….and they all put up with me. Angels, every single one of them – thank goodness I found them at just the right time.

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Speaking of time….so much of life and your success in it comes from timing. I have notoriously BAD timing….no joke. If there was to be a super-great life opportunity about to happen, I would show up when it was over…not because I’m not punctual (because I totally am), but because that is just me. My timing is almost never right. I have struck gold with this issue the odd time – I had my daughter at the perfect point in my life, and she has been the most beautiful gift every day of her nearly 15 years. I happened to be at exactly the right place (working next door to my dream school) at exactly the right time, and I fell into an AMAZING position that changed my life in so many ways: helped me become the professional I was meant to be, helped me find the friends that make up my tribe, set me up for the work I’m currently doing, and showed me the way to my happily ever after. That was really fantastic timing….but that is the exception, not the rule. To deal with all of this, I have really worked hard on adopting an attitude of gratitude, and embracing the idea that at least something really great came along….even if the timing wasn’t quite there. I’m grateful for the opportunity. 🙂 Besides, when things are meant to be, they will find a way…good stuff will win. I believe.

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How do you see the world, my friends? Is your glass half-full or half-empty? Mine is generally half-full…with plenty of room for more vodka! 😉 I talk about this idea of being different with my little one all the time…she fluctuates between wanting to fit in with the masses in school, to marching to the beat of her own drum and letting her tiny freak flag fly any old time she pleases. I’ve worked in Education long enough to know the vital importance of acceptance from one’s peers during the tumultuous adolescent years, but I so hope that she holds on to some of that uniqueness, that vibrant personality that is coursing through her veins. Those are the things that make her sparkle…and what could be better than that? 🙂

xxx

Good Things

Feast Your Eyes

I’ve been thinking about Ernest Hemingway a lot lately, which is noteworthy in that he is someone that I think of on a pretty regular basis anyway, so why the uptick now??! Gotta be the Ken Burns PBS documentary that starts tonight – I can’t wait to check it out!

A Hemingway Cat

I’ve read all of his books, most of them more than once; I have delighted in visiting his Paris, and spending time swilling booze in his old haunts, imagining that the floppy-haired man at the next table might be the next Hemingway. I finally got to fulfill my lifelong dream of visiting his home in the Florida Keys, which, let me tell you, exceeded my every expectation – and I had set that bar VERY high. While there, I soaked up all of the details of the place (the tour was really great and our guide was outstanding), but the real highlight for me was his writing room above the garage – it was heaven to me. ♥️✨

My idea of heaven ✨

I think it’s pretty safe to say that I have a bit of a ‘thing’ for Papa, as I can count on his words moving me every single time. I’m rereading “A Moveable Feast”, and came across this gem recently : A girl came in the cafe and sat by herself at a table near the window. She was very pretty with a face fresh as a newly minted coin if they minted coins in smooth flesh with rain-freshened skin, and her hair was black as a crow’s wing and cut sharply and diagonally across her cheek. I looked at her and she disturbed me and made me very excited. I wished I could put her in the story, or anywhere, but she had placed herself so she could watch the street and the entry and I knew she was waiting for someone. So I went on writing. The story was writing itself and I was having a hard time keeping up with it. I ordered another rum St James and I watched the girl whenever I looked up, or when I sharpened the pencil with a pencil sharpener with the shavings curling into the saucer under my drink. I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.

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Gorgeous, right? Those words – I’ve seen you, beauty…it just kills me. There’s something so precious about a man who can express himself like that, and something so beautiful for a woman to be made to feel that way. Le sigh. Love this. 🙂

One other quick reminder of the beautiful life courtesy of Papa: A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway: AT NIGHT, THERE WAS THE FEELING THAT WE HAD COME HOME, FEELING NO LONGER ALONE, WAKING IN THE NIGHT TO FIND THE OTHER ONE THERE, AND NOT GONE AWAY; ALL OTHER THINGS WERE UNREAL. WE SLEPT WHEN WE WERE TIRED AND IF WE WOKE THE OTHER ONE WOKE TOO SO ONE WAS NOT ALONE. OFTEN A MAN WISHES TO BE ALONE AND A WOMAN WISHES TO BE ALONE TOO AND IF THEY LOVE EACH OTHER THEY ARE JEALOUS OF THAT IN EACH OTHER, BUT I CAN TRULY SAY WE NEVER FELT THAT. WE COULD FEEL ALONE WHEN WE WERE TOGETHER, ALONE AGAINST THE OTHERS. WE WERE NEVER LONELY AND NEVER AFRAID WHEN WE WERE TOGETHER. Love. 🙂

xxx