I dyed my hair so you carry me with you when you leave.

Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Minesh has left, gone back to The Smoke. Sweetheart that he is, I saw him to the airport Wednesday and took a bus back into town. He’s left me a small stack of fascinating seeming books with erudite notes written in the cover pages that I know I’ll never have the cleverness to match. They’re sitting next to my bed, now, waiting for me to pick them up and soil their pristine pages with my fingerprints. When he sent me a note to say he got home safe, which I never doubted he would, I sent him a copy of Maginalia.

As if to gracefully ease absence, the airport then apologetically delivered up Michael Green late Thursday night for the tail end of the PuSH festival. Which means, lovelies, that I am generally unavailable for shenanigans until Tuesday. Call me then and don’t expect me to be home checking my messenger.

Heart of the World news, there isn’t any positive. Monday I sign papers to the effect that if I give them the deposit, they will not pursue any legal action against me. There’s nothing else I can say.

It tears my heart.

I need to download an MBA into my brain

Weather Canada has issued a snowfall warning for Greater Vancouver.

10-20 cm of snow is expected to fall overnight.

Gregory Colbert clips are beginning to appear on YouTube.

I have a habit of not spending nights home. I fall asleep on couches, at tables, pen still in hand, my head cradled in papers, in someone else’s pillows. My bag, invariably it carries books, my camera, and a small overnight kit. Always carry a toothbrush, always carry something to read, never say no to a free plane ticket. Lately, though, it’s like I’m trying to make up for lost time with my room. I stay up late in my own house, writing at the keyboard, trying to grind a miracle out of my business plan. I delete and re-edit until the original version of my paragraph returns to glare at me from the screen with a malevolent beauty. I chase sentences until I simply have to sleep, frustrated that I don’t have a choice. My regular nights out, Sunday’s etcetera, I think I’m feeling too delicate to be around such a false sense of security.

Yesterday, however, I took a day off. I met Minesh at City Hall, and instead of spending energy in a double-run at the office desks which had already individually thwarted us, we sort of did the whole run, really. Lunch at Tomato, then to the Lennox, (consistently a place to run into people – Ryan first, then Kit said Hello, and my brother Cale and his girlfriend Chloe joined us for drinks), then a movie, then dinner, then staying up until 4 in the morning sharing pretty his and hers things on-line until we fell asleep in front of downloaded episodes of Heroes. We even had the most drawn out argument about who would get to sleep on the couch that I’ve had in years. (We’d previously stood outside for ten minutes, trying to get the other person to go through the door first. Who says chivalry is dead? People who aren’t around stubborn goofs like us, obviously).

Robert Altman died this week.

I remember at some point realizing that it was dark, that all I had to show for the day were some blueprints, and that I didn’t mind as much as I thought I might. It was nice, not having to pour myself into one thing, to rein in my recent obsessive focus and merely be social. Tonight, however, after work… I want this done by Monday. Sleep is for the week.