Have you got the Prince in a can? Better let him out then!

It was nice to curl up with someone last night. Stupid, in it’s own special hormone driven way, yes, but nice. Allowing me to hold a body, it’s like a gift. This week it’s not so simple as sleeping. It’s a void beside me, a lack in the night. I despise need, but giving in can be like breathing fog. Letting in what beautifully obscures the world.

We left just after the halfway point, Robin and Alistair and I. The poetry was uninspired, uninspiring. Robin to the bus and we on our bicycles, riding homeward. To his home or mine, it wasn’t spoken about. Instead we called back and forth about desire and emotional entanglements and what we mean to eachother in our actions. First Street caught us for a pause. Jacques was just arriving home as we whirred past. I left him there, after confirming Withnail and I on Friday, to continue to fly. The weather outside cold yet pristine. Riding with someone else feels so right and perfect. No light in the sky but for the chilly moon, everything lit by sodium lamps. Spinning in under blocks of orange light and black shadow, commercial sold halloween colours. I can almost ride again with no hands steering. Freedom to move, like soaring. Standing on the pedals, I brace myself and let go. We went and picnicked at Trout Lake. Nutella sandwiches and an apple each, like children. There was no-one else there at midnight. Only the two of us discussing wretched literature on a bench dedicated (like them all) to the dead. We can go there now, though it’s raining. Clouds came bringing water sometime in the early morning while we lay asleep. It’s cold today, gray and Fall-time. The ever present Vancouver Talk About the Weather.

I want there to be great damp piles of coloured leaves today. I want there to be pumpkins wet from the sky.

Javina and I are going to meet for coffee tomorrow. The internet becoming a tiny bit smaller. I’ve noticed that people tend to flock by interest here. No matter where it is I’m going, there’s some incestuous overlap of friends. Less than six degrees, more like three. Where I find is defined by what I like, roving tribes of us brushing up against eachother. Who are you that you read this? How do you know me?

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