Dreampepper

Walkthrough.

It is not even a question anymore that given the opportunity I would go back in time to lay out a new life for my past self, sit myself down and explain where not to be, who to see, what, instead, I should be finding. Tony and I were discussing this recently, that we would change our history without any hesitation, in particular, the year we were almost neighbors, both wrapped in misery, walking the same streets at night, locked out of the house by abusive relationships, (it's very likely we brushed against each other as strangers, sat in the same places, rode the same bus, inches away yet years apart from saying hello). How incredible it would be to explain to our past selves, Do not continue with this. Instead, find this other person, tell them I sent you, tell them you'll care.

January - Seattle was the escape I needed. Not only does it have a refreshing amount of honest-to-mercy architectural and social diversity, it seems everyone I know there is brilliant, fun, and good-looking.*

February - He's young in that way that teenage girls find attractive, fizzing with ginger enthusiasm, wiry, laughing, his arms beaten with a couple of tattoos.

March - Ray and I are going sailing on a Viking War-ship tomorrow! Anyone want to come?

April - Once upon a time when time was shivering apart and memories seemed more real than reality, the girl who fell from the sky and the west coast hacker king came to an agreement.

May - A clean uniform of friendship, tattered in places, worn in the elbows and the shoulders, but strong all the same. I think of stone, how it erodes too slow to see, though it shapes itself to the wind almost perfectly.

June - Walking across the street in the rain, there's someone in front of me with a spiderman brand popsicle, the blue eyes two wan gum-balls that look like they were manufactured years before I was born.

July - I've been mistaken for a porn star.

August - Something's wrong with my internet at home. It's corpse blood sluggish, and flickering faster than an animated disco.

September - The weekend was spent moving David from his cave apartment of the mysterious smells to a pleasantly crooked #9932CC-darkorchid room in an old heritage style house on Arbutus street, right across the street from the Ridge Theater.

October - Something I can't seem to get over is how much mind-bogglingly delicious food there is in Montreal, for incredibly cheap.

November - We've decided to paint the guest room library the colours of a Hypselodoris nudibranch bullock, but darker and a bit richer, leaving us with aubergine, pumpkin, sunflower mustard, and crimson red.

December - Today we're hitting up, (or on, your pick), Lou O'Bedlam, Frederick's of Hollywood, Kevin again, (who will hopefully have recovered from his sudden death-flu), and somewhere delicious to eat, hopefully in Venice, with dear Crunchy of Mutaytor if we can line up with her lunchbreak.