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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Part 2.

beebs looking out at passing scenery.
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

That's my cat, Beebs. She's looking out of the van window on our way to the North. I felt bad for her as it feels as though I've dragged her all over the province. She was born on the island and I moved her to Ottawa with me. Then from Ottawa to Sudbury. Sudbury to London. London back to Sudbury. Then back to London again. This trip was from London to the Island. She's as well travelled as I am, in the province of Ontario at least.

I had more dreams last night. This time I was in Hong Kong and all I could think about was where to get some noodles. I was checking into a flash hotel with some cranky people behind me. We slid off of the plane as if we were on a snowy hill, sliding down with abandon. Hands up, red faces from the wind.

Then I was in my bed, the cat was sleeping on my right hand, Buckley off to my left foot and Marble under the covers as usual. The bed I sleep in now isn't mine, but it's so soft like a feather bed. I sleep well, when I do sleep.

Is it odd that the only things I packed when I came here are the dvds I've been collecting for a couple of years?

Is it even more odd that the only person I feel like I can talk to is a rock star? How did that happen? Where are all the friends that I used to talk to? Oh right. They were jettisoned when the going got rough. Oh, the things I do for what I think is sanity.

In any event, it's time to let the dogs roam the yard, which consists of 200 year old oak trees and a bunch of angry squirrels. Bob Dylan plays in the background, my current soundtrack.

Good afternoon, readers.


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