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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.

Drinking tea as hot as I can stand it. It burned my tongue earlier, but I can’t get enough. When I was driving in this morning, I could see the fog snuggled against the ground, not rising and burning off the way it normally does. I was cold, so I left the window closed and listened to Josh Ritter until I hit Brantford, changing over to Matthew Good.

I keep waiting to slide into the routine of working, and living life like an ordinary person but I guess maybe I’m too eager to get back to it. Listening to really old music in the car on the way home last night, I realized that I missed who I used to be. I used to be in control. I used to have fun sometimes. Now I just look for it, where it used to be.

I left my window open last night, the wind brought the rain in onto the edge of my bed. I fell asleep like that, watching the final episode of Carnivale and Buckley under my hand, his nose tucked beneath his tail. My new hospital green sheets are lovely. They stay in place and keep me warm under my flimsy duvet.

One of the things about my new job is that in the event I get a full time position lasting more than a few months, I will move to the Brantford area and live in a motel until it's time to flee the country for New York City. I can just picture the entries and the photographs now....seedy little neon lights on the strip street in the city. Cigarette butts and non-smoking rooms. Me and Buckley languishing in free cable t.v and bad t.v dinners.

Ahhh...the things I do to stay employed.

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