08.26.2005 || 12h09

Many little things...

Something weird happened a couple of days ago: my phone rang while I was at work, I guess. I didn't hear it because I was, well, at work. After work I went for a pint with my barista and her roommate, then got on my bike and pedalled home (I had *one* pint, so don't get on my arse). When I got home, I figured I'd check my messages before bed, and one of them was from Mysteria, who'd had a biking accident and needed someone to take her to the hospital. Of course, I wanted to call right away, but I figured she'd found someone to take her and would still be in the ER -- ergo, no cellphones. And if not, it was still 2h30 in the morning. So, I went to bed and text messaged her the next morning to see if she was okay. turns out she's not doing to badly, though the bike'll need some repairs.

So I checked her page to see if she'd written about it. Silly girl wasn't wearing a helmet. I guess it's a good thing I wasn't around to take her to the ER, because I'd have given her a hiding for not wearing her helmet.

Then I read back a few days. It seems she's still mad at me, which at this point seems pointless. Especially as she's been moving on, or seeming to -- So why the hell did she call me?

But I'm glad as hell she's not too seriously hurt. That would have been fucking awful.


You know, there's a point at which you're lying in bed at 2h00 and the roommate's guitar is calling faint chords from within and the whoosh of traffic outside is so light that it almost sounds like the wind. That's the point where the empty hole inside you let's you know what it really is: It's the part of you that allows itself to cry over absent love. It's the part that *doesn't* speak bravely about 'only four months,' and that allows itself to feel what you can't let yourself say. It's the part that holds onto the image of Her with that baby like it's an icon or some sort of fucking allegory that's too sacred and mysterious to ignore but too limitless to really imagine.

She's coming to town again to-day. It was unplanned, and it just ends up being fortuitous that I'd called S to cancel biking this week-end due to a lack of funds. I'm so excited that I can hardly stand myself.


I've been thinking about cooking lately, about how no-one's got time to cook because of yadda yadda yadda and alladat. I've been thinking about how an answer to the problem might be to create mini communities, along the same lines as the small groups of condos being built to-day (where the units face a central court or common area), but with a communal kitchen as well. If you re-create a communal cooking system, where whichever parent is actually home creates part of a larger meal as prepared by a couple of neighbours, then there's less pressure on the parent or child to create a full meal every night. It would cut down on the time it takes to cook a meal, and if it's in the same communal area as the yard, then it could take place alongside other activities like homework or whatever.

Pie in the sky, I know. But you know...

||Gods save the Queen,

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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