Making plans. They fall together like loosely knitted stitches on a hand made scarf. Warm and wooly, for the winter. This pleases me.

I type this in my soon to be non-bedroom. Meaning, I've been offered a new job, back home in Ontario. Well, not really 'back home' but given the amount of traveling I've done the past couple of years for work, to go back to my home province to work is like going back home (in my mind). The job itself is a step up in level and responsibility, as well as something I've always wanted to be involved in. And it's in my chosen field.

For the first time as an adult, I'll be living in the same city as my father and my youngest sister. I'm looking forward to the piano lessons I will take, as well as the guitar lessons I will squeeze out of my dad :)

Just a couple of weeks to go here in Hay River, then it's a jump into the cockpit of my car and away I go...onto the ever bidding highway of my life.


Can't wait to see what happens next.

Labels: life experience, moving, new job, travelling, work

there's something in the way you move...
I'm back home now, in the Northwest Territories of Canada. The trees burst into green flame while I was away, everything seems to be the same colour as it was in Ireland, minus the almost carnal colours of the blossoms and blooms that entranced me. But there's a lot to be said for velvet greenery, in any case.

As for me and my house, it is not in order. I came home to the quiet chaos I ordinarily live with and when confronted with that, as compared to how other people live, I cringed and shut the door behind me. Surveying the mess, I decide to put off any cleaning duties minus laundry until the weekend, when I can dedicate a day or two to it. A piece of furniture appeared in my absence, it will house my collectibles nicely.

Sometimes, I think I ought to do the dishes daily, and sweep, dust and complete a multitude of household tasks that normal people do. But then I think, screw it. I can live with dust and a few dirty dishes. It just takes a little getting used to, when I came home this time.

Bailey, one of the furry loves of my life, was happy to hear my voice and we just hung around last night watching Michael Clayton and eating Big Macs (he likes the pickles and I had to bring the McD food in from Yellowknife). I slept in my own bed (of 2 months) and liked it. I guess I like it, enough.

But, in my little bruised up purple coloured heart, I miss Galway. I mostly miss the people, maybe. Not sure. I just feel sad about having to leave and come back. I'm not used to that bit. Usually I am glad to see the last of one place and return and/or go back to another place. Remember with me, it's usually about the journey, not the destination.

I dreamnt last night that I saw you...
But I feel as though I really clicked with that place. My footsteps on cobbled stone and tiny doorways where I was constantly banging my elbows and knees. Ireland felt too small for me but I somehow shrank and it seemed to fit.

In any event, I also went to Scotland for a short trip. A sort of pilgrimage to where my father's people came from. The house is still there, ruins of it. But that's where my father's family originated. For the longest time, being a Native Canadian, a First Nations person, I used to long for a place where I could go that part of me came from. I didn't know of this family history until a few years ago, and since then had wanted to go there, touch the stones and feel it.

So, I did.



Champions of Nothing - Matthew Good
A Single Spark Explosion - Matthew Good

Labels: Galway, Ireland, Scotland, travelling

In Ireland. It really is as green as you would imagine it. I take photos, and agonize over which ones to post to Flickr and gab on about. I've trawled shops and acquired many new things to drape over my body and adorn my face. I even went on a tour bus to check out Irish countryside.

I'm in new Brand heaven, almost overwhelmed with the choice of different kinds of cheese and what to drink in the grocery stores. I don't particularly care for chocolate but seem to be eating a lot of it. Galaxy bars seem to be the fave, so far.

I'm having a great time talking with my old best friend from High school. She's getting cozy in her nest, awaiting the birth of her first child with her awesome husband (who I really dig because he's himself, no matter what). I wish all of mine could be so happy.

Above shot was taken in Connemarra. I wanted to stop and pet the sheep but they probably wouldn't have liked me anyhow. They reminded me of Bailey.



I'm aware I post a lot of photos of myself. Quite the opposite of early journal days. But here's another, taken in a little Mexican restaurant a couple of days ago. My awesome new 70's style sunglasses and air of aloofness that I am eager to break. Aloofness, not sunglasses. I like this photo. I feel pretty when I look at it.

I'm a little awed by the Chanel mascara sample (something I covet but would never pay for) and the little things I pick out in tiny shops all over the place. Indian print fabrics, jangly bracelets and a huge moonstone ring to grace my ring finger on the left hand. Scarves of many colours and some shoes that punished my feet for the past few days but in the face of fashion (and how awesome the shoes are) I wear, still.

All in all, it's been great here so far. I would consider moving here (why not?) as it's a good a place as any. But who knows what the future holds for the next big move. Here I am, barely settled into Hay River, and already planning my next jump. I just need to relax for a little while. In 3 months I'll be ready to start planning.

In any event, must get going. It's bed time here and a new friend is taking my to the Cliffs of Moher tomorrow morning. Can't wait.

Also, a short trip to Scotland on the 17th to see where my father's people come from. Exciting, exciting.

Sleep tight, dear ones.


even here, you cross my mind like a breeze. Happy belated Birthday.

Labels: Ireland, photographs, photography, pictures, travelling

the time is now, we're getting old...
It's almost time to jet. I've got 99.9% of my things boxed up and ready to go. I've stopped buying food. I've decided on the sets of dvds to keep in my luggage for Easter Weekend Marathon. My shoes, my curtains and my lovely photos are stashed away in sealed cardboard boxes, waiting for the time to be unpacked in a new space.

It's exciting. Anti-climatic for sure (I always find it is that way). But maybe in my mind, I've been gone from here for a long time. It's just time for my body to catch up with my head.
Always seems that is the case.

I've been looking at airfare for Cuba, thinking of tacking a week on to my Ireland trip so I can roll and smoke cigars with Leesa and Caleb. Not sure that will happen, but it's kind of fun to see what something like that would cost.

Tomorrow is my last full day in Nunavut. I will spend part of Wednesday climbing in and out of airplanes but I won't be spending a whole day in Nunavut. On to a new province/territory. Time to shake off some of this old, and paw my hands through the new. That is the part I'm most excited for. The new.

The unknown.

So I leave my last entry in Nunavut, with a photo taken of me last year in Pangnirtung. Fun times in a dry community...who would have thought?

I'm tired of seeing you bundled up in all those clothes...
I've definitely had an adventure here. It wasn't the swash-buckling, crazy marathon adventures some can claim. I never did get to see a polar bear, or sit in an igloo but I met some fantastic people and bonded with a community in such a way that it almost pains me to leave now. Countless airplane rides, frequent flyer miles and a grinning face no matter which way I turn. Yeah. It's been good, but I'm really ready for something else.


Next, please.



Mexico - Hawksley Workman

Labels: 'North', Arctic, Arctic Circle, going, Nunavut, travelling

The sun has come back for short appearances at 10 in the morning. It sneaks a peek up over the farthest southern horizon you can look to, then sinks back down like a balloon losing air. Truth be told, I hardly missed it's absence. The dark is so soothing.

the baffled king composing Hallelujah...

Well, its been a bit of a rough day. Work demands strain the quality of my time spent in isolation at my new perch in Igloolik. Just here for work matters until Thursday. I have a new roommate in Hall Beach and she seems great so far. But there always is the honeymoon period. So I'm not expecting much, either from myself or her. No expectations, means no disappointments later on.
One of my secrets has been aired by another. Despite the initial burst of anger and self-righteousness, things seemed to have calmed down in my mind. I guess this stage is what one would call: Damage control. So I've sent out my white flags, and can do nothing now but hope for the best. Silly really. I never hope for the best. I have just gotten used to expecting the worst.
but I'm not really in the mood for damage control, either. In this instance, I'm hoping (oops, bit of an expectation here) that we can all act like adults and move on. But I sense that is unlikely. I can blame the one who spilled the beans, or I can blame myself for indulging myself in his audience. Either way, the damage is done.

So, I'm sitting here in the chilly living room of the house I am temporarily occupying, typing this out and listening to an old favourite. A hot bath has been drawn and bloodletting is on my mind, little silken swirls of it in steamy hot water. Memories, I suppose. Or scenes of a movie I can't look away from.

My fingernails are painted baby blue, an opposite to the black I had gotten during my airport manicure in Toronto last week (feels like a month ago). I've only been home for a week yesterday and yet, it feels as though I've been missing in action for quite some time. Or that I've been underwater, swimming. Night swimming. And only coming up for air now. This past week has felt absolutely endless.

My thoughts have turned back to what to do, where to go next and the center of my mind has been focused on teaching english overseas. Vietnam calls me, has called me in the past and it looks like a reality. Or it looks like it could become my reality. If I so choose. The idea of social work in another community or back in Ontario is not an attractive one....just now. Perhaps later.

you know, I used to live alone before I knew ya'...

My bath water is waiting, but I just got off the phone with Craig who is on his own tonight with his very busy offspring, Benji, so he has to call back once things are settled down in his household. In effect, I'm on hold. Just not on the line. Nothing's on the line. He tells me about the song he wrote for me, the lyrics should make me uncomfortable, they are that close...but instead, I'm just eager to hear the finished product and add it to my collection. He's so dear to me in an abstract sort of way, this Craig.

I'm still even, I think. Despite my efforts to sabotage the sense of being even just to see what would happen. Nothing is what has happened. And this makes me feel content.

I just want to get moving. Time to go somewhere else. Time to plan, makes solid plans and follow through. My trusty little dog packed up with me, and off I go. But that's a little ways away yet. Now is the money saving time. Later, will be the fun time.

It's just a shame I can't combine the two and do what I do best....leave.

G.

Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley

Labels: Arctic, Bailey, betrayal, friends, Gish, how not to be an idiot, Jeff Buckley, layers, mistakes, secrets, stupidity, travelling, we all lose in the end

December 13, 2008. 2:00 p.m.
get the wheel, lets go for a ride...
Jesus Fucking Christ. I love going to places. Staying in one spot for too long drives me a little batty. But the getting to the plane, being in the plane also drives me a little nuts. Sartre was totally spot on: Hell is other people.

Let me repeat: Hell IS other people.

No one has any consideration for anyone else. They are all just yackity yack at you no matter how engrossed you appear to be in your book. They listen to music (which in istelf is completely fine) but with ear phones that seem to be broadcasting the music to the rest of the plane rather than the person they are actually plugged in to.

I wasn't planning on pulling out my iPod to listen to music during the shorter flights because I've been totally lost in A Dull Roar by Henry Rollins (who, by the way totally gets what it is like to want to be alone) but the guy in the NEXT aisle over is listening to his iPod at some insane volume on the worst headphones, ear buds whatever...they are obviously not doing the trick. And I think it's old ACDC he's listening to. Great, the trailer trash music follows me everywhere.

go ahead, I said....erase
So, I'm sitting here, typing up a new entry on my laptop, trying to drown out the smells and noises of the people surrounding me. I guess I've been in the North too long, living it up on my own with too much relish, because last night I went into a bar to get a G&T and got a little twitchy for all the people in the place. All of them loaded, leering and loud. That didn't stop me from snorkeling down 4 drinks in 45 minutes before tottering out, but it wasn't the most enjoyable experience. I went back to the hotel room, listened to music, read and surfed the net.

I can see the airline ladies serving food ahead of me, and pouring drinks. They actually have wine. I wonder if I will have any. I don't think so. I am more hungry than anything else. It's a long plane ride (for me, anyway) of three hours, so maybe a bit of wine will help me conk out for a bit. Interesting to see my thought processes, isn't it?

Food time.

9:03 p.m.
are you still there? Yeah, I'm here
In Toronto. At a Perkin's restaurant next to the hotel I'm staying at. They lost my bag, which I expected. I don't know why. I just presumed that there would be an issue. Any time I am not dragging my luggage off a conveyor belt at each airport I ghost through, I just presume no one else will do it for me. And apparently I was right (this time). Luckily, I am used to travelling somewhat lightly, and packed everything essential in my backpack which comes on with me. Camera, laptop, sleeping clothes.

December 14, 2008. 9:08 a.m.
On a small plane to Sudbury, Ontario. Met up with Pam, a friend of mine from a few years ago. We keep in touch but so weird to run into one another just out of the blue. Took a photo. Will post later.

Bag found. All harmony restored to present state. Looking forward to landing and getting a coffee and having a long cigarette. This is only an hour long flight. Had one last night as well from Ottawa to Toronto. Watched a small part of The Dark Knight. I have a little thing for Heath Ledger. But we landed too quickly for me to get too far into the movie. Will have to pick it up at some point.

Almost 'home'. Where is home exactly...?

December 18, 2008. 10:32 p.m.
Updating journals. Alone in the house in Northern Ontario. Parents have gone to pick up one of the nephews in London. The christmas lights are on, the house must look like a beacon of sorts. The northern ontario winter is in full bloom and the snow falls while I'm outside smoking. Buckley and Marble in some sort of glory, with the treats I hand out and Beebs sleep beside me at night. I wish they were packable so I could bring them with me wherever I go.

Small road trip planned for tomorrow. Just me, music and the road. Black ribbons of it rising up in front of me. My mascaraed eyes and plumes of cigarette smoke.

Can you picture it, beauties?

Get the Wheel - Greg Dulli
The Lure Would Prove to Be too Much - The Twilight Singers

Labels: 'North', music, Northern Ontario, Nunavut, packing, pets, The Twilight Singers, travelling, Twilight Singers, writing

When I went away to Igloolik for a couple of days, I had to get a 'dog sitter' for Bailey. I could have taken him with me, but given that even I didn't know where I was staying, I didn't think he'd look too kindly upon too much change. So, I went to the family I had adopted him from and asked them to look after him (for a small fee, of course). They agreed and even offered to through in a hair cut. I said "Sure!" and even told them to just do the cut in the way they normally did (he is around 12 or something). So, I left him in those caring hands and went about my business. I missed him but not as much as normal, knowing he was with his old family and probably loving it.

So here is a photo I took this past summer of Bailey. He was slightly puffier a couple of weeks ago, but this is generally how he looked.

Old Bailey:


Then. I picked him up after his baby sitting adventures. And this is what I got:

New Bailey:


I didn't even recognise him. I kept looking over the smiling children and jumping little dog, wondering...where's Bailey? Then I realised that the skinny, jumping little dog WAS Bailey. I was speechless.

Poor guy. I mean, here we are in -36 (with the windchill) weather and he gets stripped of all his insulation. It definitely limits the time he spends outside. Although, truth be told, he didn't spend that much time out there to begin with (thank god).
But, I just wanted to update quickly before heading home for a veggie dinner and Bailey, to watch Frasier reruns and go to bed early.

Aloha,
G.

Labels: Bailey, dog, Nunavut, travelling, weather, winter

You say you wanna play Country but you're in a Punk Rock band...
Did I tell anyone that's my new favourite song? Have I sung along to it enough in the car, as I'm gliding along those endless ribbons of black highway?

I'm a hotel room in Timmins. Back here, getting ready for bed so I can get up early and catch a plane back to the nowhere world I live and work in. Looking forward to going back. Not looking forward to going back.

I already miss my family, despite all of the crisis' that have risen up over the past three weeks, I was still glad to be among blood.

Rose just posted a photo she took of me in the old days.

Sometimes, it's really nice to see the old me. Suddenly, I feel better.

Labels: Gish, myself, travelling

I got off the plane last night. It was raining. I breathed in the Northern Ontario air automatically. And immediately recognised the scent of wet spruce trees. It smelled so delicious. I knew I was back on my own sort of soil.

The flight was so smooth, I wish I could fly that way all the time. I was the only passenger and every time I got off the plane (to refuel) I felt like a rockstar or something. It was fun. The flight was so smooth, those pilots really knew what they were doing. I thought because it was a smaller plane that it would be rocky but nope. Awesome.

Checked into a cheap motel and went next door for a Gin & Tonic. It was so good. Then grabbed something to eat and came back to the room to eat and watch The Breakfast Club.

Now I'm back on Manitoulin and I can't get over how green everything is. It's like I forgot how green, green can be. I took polaroids during the drive home and of Marble and Buckley when I arrived. They seemed happy enough to see me, but it's really Beebs that has stuck to me like glue. She's so soft and pretty, and I missed her so much.

I'll sleep early again tonight and wait for my parents to get home tomorrow, then it will really feel like I came home. The house now is empty except for the pets and it feels a little like a motel. Maybe I'm travelling too much. Maybe the smell of burning rubber from the wheels of planes has corrupted my mind. Sometimes, I think I smell like burning rubber. Or that my breath smells like the inside of every plane. My couch, the window seat I covet.

But for now, any angst aside, I'm glad to be here. Maybe some photos tomorrow.

Everything is in bloom. Maybe me, too.

Labels: holidays, music, pets, travelling

my feet don't touch the ground when you come around...
I'm exhausted. This week has been pretty brutal with travel and training. We're working right through the weekend which means no time off until next Saturday. I shouldn't whine, but I like to sleep in (if I can) so after awhile, it all catches up with me and sends me over the little deep end.

I wanted to post this. I posted it when I first got the tattoo years ago but I just wanted everyone to see it...again. Like it was the first time.


I've been spending a lot of time with the local social workers which is kind of fun. Every day, the covering social worker cooks dinner and we sit around and gab until I see how late it's getting and rush back to the hotel. I use the term 'hotel' loosely and will post photos at some point. They book the rooms by the bed, so if anyone else checks in, I'll have to share a room. That's when I'll be begging for the couch at the social worker's house. Oh yeth.

I bought two perfect red pears. I set them on the dresser so they can ripen a bit more. They look delectable from where I am sitting, typing this out for you, and I want to taste one but it will be too hard against my teeth and unready to eat. Unready. I like to make up words, sometimes.

I'm getting excited about my trip to London in June. The shopping. The fact that I will be renting a car and will feel the warm June night air on my skin. I'll take nostalgic trips to Port Stanley and sit in the sand as the water waves over itself. I'm looking forward to it. I like the Arctic but I still have fond memories of other places.

The Devil's in the Details - Matthew Good.'

Labels: Apostle, Arctic Circle, girls, Gish, holidays, job, Matthew Good, music, travelling

I sat down at this little fake rosewood desk and started to type the entry for the day. I'm in a rather classy hotel in Aqaluit, that actually offers highspeed internet and doesn't really seem to be kidding about the 'highspeed' part. A glass of ice cold water at my left hand, my toes toasty in super workman style socks and I'm trying to decide on whether or not to post a photo. Ryan Adams and Hawksley on the stereo. Sweet voices. I always fall for the voices.

Today was really warm when I got off the plane in Aqaluit. I jumped into a taxi (now that I'm a seasoned northern traveller) and went straight to the hotel where I unloaded luggage and went straight back for another taxi whereupon I directed him to take me 'to the shopping'. I bought silly things for my house like tealights and incense, a candle holder. Stuff I could have picked up on my way back but that for whatever reason just decided to get now.

Here is a photo of Jackie's birthday celebrations last Friday:


I really liked the light of the photo. Even though my intention was to travel light, I ended up bringing my camera. I would love to get more shots of the mountains in Pangnirtung and whatever else takes my fancy. Like more hotel rooms. Trust me, the next one is going to be a gem.

But I should go to bed. I have an exhausting 2 weeks ahead of me, with this mandatory training to complete. We will even continue through the weekends, so I won't have a day off until possibly next Saturday. So, now I'm going to jump into the hotel bed and cuddle up, fall asleep to some familiar music, a tea light and a a soft blue ride. It swells like the ocean in front of me, that deep, dark blue that you can't believe is natural light against water until you run your hand through it. Or take a dive.

I'm going to take a dive.


The Rescue Blues - Ryan Adams

Labels: hotel, Ryan Adams, travelling

I want to say I don't want to update, or that I don't have time. Twice, today I have thought that I was leaving in the morning and had absolutely nothing packed. I'm going to live in the stupid arctic circle and haven't packed so much as a sock. Or, I'm sure that I will get there and remember every single little thing that I need, that is not available to me.

Or the fact that Buckley, Marble and Beebs are sticking to me like velcro, and it's making me sad that I won't see them or be with them all the time, like I am now. Always with them, unless I leave the house. Something is making me tip off balance but I can't figure out what it really is, if it's just the leaving. But I like leaving. Leaving means *going*. Going somewhere, doing something else. And believe me, there isn't much here I that I enjoy. It's an island, with a bunch of deer. Not as though I'm leaving anything spectacular.

I did manage to pack two BIG suitcases. Then after I've sat on them, and closed the zippers, I wonder if maybe I packed them 'right'. As in, did I maximize the space? Did I get in the big suitcases what I wanted to? Don't forget the carry-on.

My god. The carry-on is full of crap that I don't even know why I'm taking up there!

What's next?!?

Labels: Beebs, Buckley, cat, freaking out, going, Manitoulin Island, Marble, melancholy, moving, packing, pets, sad, travelling

how much do I hate Ottawa? I don't know, really. It's more of an abstract dislike just because it was a city I spent 9 years of my life in, with a man I am no longer attached to. But every once in awhile, memories of our life together (mostly the nice memories) surface and I miss it. And I hate that I miss it.

I just got my itinerary for my flight schedule and such, and I have a 15 hour layover in Ottawa, meaning I have to spend the night. I'm in the process of making plans to spend some time with a friend there, but still...I don't know if that will be enough to take the sting out of the whole deal.

And the stupid airport is right in the same neighbourhood/end of town of where I used to live.

Am I making a big deal out of nothing? Probably. But it's my deal, and I decide how big it is. I think. Besides...the shopping is pretty damn good.

Labels: drama, flying, neurotic, Ottawa, past, travelling

Dear Chicago,
There's always something left to say. I type this, my fingers numb from cold. My fingers hitting random keys whilst I try to spell words correctly. If that happens, then maybe this time, you'll get my note.
Do you remember those fiery nights in front of the fireplace, smoke occasionally sputtering from the fire, the light allowing us to see our work. Papers upon paper, scribbles and notes all in the margins. Creased photographs and glowing red bottles of wine. It's ok. I remember enough for the most of us.

words fell like water...

Sometimes, I don't know where these words come from. Are they like that Ryan Adams song you liked so much...just merely words? Could I be reading more importance to them then it's worth?

Right now, I light my cigarettes from burning candles that are meant to be in churches, prayers said for the dead. But I'm here in my cold, little room. With these candles that burn for endless hours, even while I sleep. A cheap glimmering light that is just *there* when I need it to be. So afraid to sleep, and for it to be another day. It just means it's closer to the time I have to go. And we both know how much I love leaving.
Maybe this time will be different.
Love, Gish

Labels: David Usher, Dear Chicago, opinions, pharmacology, relationships, run, running, sleep, travelling, writing

find somewhere to go...
In the wake of accepting the job in Nunavut (well, at least accepting in my mind), I've been shopping like a mad person. I've bought a lot of tv dvds that will carry me through some semi-dark nights, as well as the full light ones. If I have insomnia now, I am afraid of what it will look like when I am in a place where the sun doesn't go down for 3 months (June to August). I guess that is to make up for the two months of darkness in the winter months.

More shopping included a gigantic parka, proper winter boots, thermal underwear and a gazillion tshirts to layer up with. The parka. I hate it. It's brown, puffy and reaches to my knees. When I wear it, I feel like a big, brown, puffy Michelin Man. There's nothing for it. I have to wear it. My only consolation is that not a lot of people will see me in it. Yes, my vanity is still alive and strong.

I took this the other day. I'm a passenger.

We can slip into the fog together and get lost for awhile. It will insulate our noises and sounds. We can relax on a broken log and sip hot coffee, our edges blurred even to each other. It was just a thought.

Speaking of Lost. I'm Lost in Lost. I mean, I've become addicted to the show (note: dvd purchased). And it's a darn good thing I've bought all those dvds. I would be very upset if I had to wait for the 2nd season to come out after watching the finale last night of the 1st season. All in one bite. That's my kind of thing.

So, the fact that I'll be living in the Arctic circle has me thinking of things to do to pass the time. So far, tv is taken care of. I've decided to take my guitar, teach myself to play. Books, maybe some knitting stuff to see if I can figure that out on my own. Other than that, I can't think of anything....

I can tell you of the things I will miss. Summer shoes. Fresh fruit. Fresh vegatables. Chinese food. All night convenience stores. Driving. Gin and Tonics on the front porch. My nephews. My sisters. Wearing a tshirt and jeans while out shooting pictures.

But, then I remind myself this is for a better cause then some summer flip flops.

Labels: insomnia, inspiration, Island, job, late night, Manitoulin Island, money, Nunavut, travelling, winter, writing

Hawksley Workman once wrote a song called "Tonight, Romanticise the Automobile". Now, whenever I hear the word 'romanticise' I think of that song, hum a few bars and continue on with whatever it was I was doing.

The word reminds me of what movies do to my psyche. They make me believe, for short amounts of time (around 5 or 10 minutes) that my life could be like the characters in the movie. That I could casually walk along Amsterdam avenue in New York City and buy flowers for my little kitchen table, or maybe come across a stand that sells apples. As if there would be flower sellers or apple buyers on Amsterdam avenue. Wrong neighbourhood, Gish.

Crisp Royal Gala apples (currently one of my little addictions) and sunny yellow tulips that sit in a clear vase in the throes of death, but looking stunningly beautiful whilst they die. Simple things like sweeping the floor, watching Fall leaves drift to the ground.

Oh, and consuming products like Coke Plus, or Diet Cherry 7-up, eating blueberry donuts and smoking Capri slim cigarettes. Those are the things that I managed to experience while driving around small town Michigan yesterday.

And of course, the reference to life romanticized into tiny manageable bites, is because You've Got Mail is on. Which I am sure is not an accurate portrayal of life in New York, but I suppose that it doesn't matter right now.

I'm going to fall asleep in clean bright red sheets that I picked up in Michigan, and dream of possible, attainable things.

Not things like buying apples from a stand in New York or ideas of snorkeling gin and tonics in a swanky bar in the Upper East Side. Although truth be told, I am not all that interested in the swanky bar bit. People don't really live like that, right?

People shop at Target, they eat at Chili's once a week, and then go home to their bedroom communities of large cities with matching bed sheets and non-slip decals in the bath tub. I've got to just give up the ghost and find my place amongst them.

Bed time. Red sheets, an apple and a novel I've read 10 times before.

Labels: hawksley workman, how not to be an idiot, layers, neurotic, New York, travelling

I got it in my head last night that I should be doing more with my spare time. I should be going out more, and attending to the things that I (think) I like. I was thinking last night that maybe a weekend trip to Michigan for some casual shopping would be a good idea.

Imagine my chagrin when I discovered that Michigan is not really one of the hot spots for shopping, per se.

Thus, I started looking at places in a broader manner. Scrolling around a map of the United States near my border crossing and I see that Chicago isn't that far. In fact, it's only about 6 hours door to door.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but there is quite a lot going on in Chicago. So, I called Rose this morning and asked her to come with me for a little road trip. An overnight in a classy downtown hotel and some night life. Photographs. Boat on the river. Just general tourist kind of thing. She's trying to make arrangements for her kids, I'm sitting here chewing my nails because now I *really* want to go.

However, given how quickly I change my mind, do not be surprised if I do not go.

Last night, eating cheese pizza in front of the television after coming home from spending time with my sister and her son, I was thinking about watching one of those gooey love movies just so I can be a little more brain dead for bed time. I decided on 'Say Anything...' with John Cusack. I have the movie because it was on sale, and I dig John Cusack (sometimes) and because it's the only time I've ever seen him act *that* way before or since in his acting career.

In that kind of mood, I'm thinking "Woohoo! I can watch this and goggle at Mr. Cusack in a manner in which I only would do so only in my living room, in my pjs with cheese pizza." However, once the movie started I realised that I was staring at John Cusack's rendition of an 18 year old boy.

That's when I stopped the movie and put on Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. It just won't do for me to be attracted to ANY kind of rendition of a child under the age of 20.

So. That's my exciting life. I'm planning an overnight trip to Chicago for the hell of it, eating too many Oreo cookies, and awaiting the release of Mattie's new album, Hospital Music. I refuse to listen to any samples until I have the disc in my car.

Oh, and I might be buying a new car too. But that is a maybe. You know me and making up my mind. It's a tricky business being Gish, let me tell you.
Love,
G.

Labels: drama, Gish, how not to be an idiot, John Cusack, Matthew Good, music, neurotic, photographs, photography, travelling