I realized the other day just how far away I have become from the person I used to be. The other day, I had a momentary flash – I’m older now, I have now hung up my underwear to dry in the bathroom.

M’love and I went out yesterday. We went to the Flea Market. A red warehouse full of things that weren’t interesting enough to ask after. A sad sorry look at our consumer culture. He walked away with music, Lina Lovitch, and a Gowan, as self amusement. I staggered away with a gothic monstrosity. Pedestal, painted silver, with three gargoyles. Speak Evil, Hear Evil, See Evil. 50c = 3 pounds worth of clay and silver paint.

This week I houseclean. It’s difficult with no hot water, and things tend to pile up. Still, there are things to hang up, and things to be put on shelves, and things to be organized to leave the house. Sold, bartered, tossed. Whichever seems best. Already there is a box in the livingroom fll of barbie dolls and toys. Fantasy books that were left on my doorstep and comicbooks dirt cheap.

Unexpected people are planning on appearing at the party this weekend. Drifting into people on Commercial Drive. My ghodmum, and her boy.

Unusual gifts, these people.

“I’m not a fig plucker, but a fig pluckers son, and we’ll all plck figs until the fig plucking’s done”.

We also ran into a David Bloom, and an Andrew, of The Hill and Biffy Perdu. I walked away from thier concert last night with a tiny pin, and an e-mail address of someone named Black. I should tend to my collection of people without names. They are fading away from me like dreams into morning.

Last night, someone stared at me from thier car as I stood at the busstop. He sparked conversation between me and my love. “I don’t like being in the company of people who wonder if my lipstick matches thier cock”, then I took satisfaction in naming names.