I have two couch surfers arriving any minute: Evelina Chen from Indonesia and her travel companion, an American named Rick. They were scheduled to arrive tomorrow night but I got an e-mail message asking me at the last minute if they could arrive tonight instead.
Evelina has had a series of courageous and widespread adventures in various parts of North America, including many of the parks in the American SW and looks like an interesting person to meet, but all of a sudden several red flags are coming up.
If finding a hotel might cost them hundreds of dollars in the peak season, why wouldn't they invest in a couple dollars to call me to confirm it would be OK, and who would be so inconsiderate to ask for such a last minute change without even apologizing for the inconvenience that might cause their host, especially since they'd be arriving in the later evening.
They didn't get my prompt reply to say it would be OK, so they send me a phone message when they knew I'd be at work today asking me to text them at Rick's work phone, which they failed to check. Finally they called me at home an hour or so ago from Burnaby, about half an hour away, but they had to drop someone off. Evelina asked if I go to bed early. I foolishly said by 11:30 or so, instead of 10, so they might not bother to show up until then. I obviously won't have much time to talk to them before bed, before trusting them with the keys to my place. Tomorrow night may be the only chance I get to spend time with them, if they make themselves available.
Hmmm. I hope I won't regret offering accommodation to them. The last couch surfer, an older gay American named Alan Hatch, stood me up without bothering to call or e-mail. I didn't give him a negative reference because, frankly, I was glad he didn't show up. I wasn't in the mood and perhaps the Universe was giving me the space I needed.
Monday, July 19, 2010
A Penney for my thoughts....
I am in lust, or longing, or whatever you call it. His name is Craig and we met on Halloween 2008. He's a friend of my friend Kal. He was dressed as a cowboy and I was instantly fascinated, but he was somewhat hung up on Kal, who was newly out and oozing freedom hormones. Kal fortunately didn't feel the same way about Craig, but I figured I had no chance given the circumstances.
I would see Craig sometimes on weekends at the Fountainhead Pub, a frequent hang out of mine. He would come in from New Westminster, where he lives, if Kal would be there, and Kal, a social butterfly, always had a circle of friends around him. Craig, on the other hand, was rather shy by comparison and felt more comfortable speaking only to those he knew so it wasn't easy in all the noise to get to know him. The circle of friends, outside of Kal and Craig, made no effort to include me when I tried to join them so I usually kept my distance.
Times changed. Kal met the love of his life and totally settled down. Craig gave up on winning him over and came in less often, but he kept in touch with Kal and Kal always updated me on what and how Craig was doing. Neither of them really knew how attracted I was to Craig.
A few months ago I saw Craig sitting with his group of drinking friends as I was on my way out, and I stopped to say hello. I placed my arm around his shoulders as I chatted with him. It felt wonderful and he seemed to soak it up, but I left after a few minutes so not to have my affection appear to be a cheap come on. The next day he asked Kal to arrange a time to bring him over to see my art. Kal told about his request but never followed through.
I was amazingly patient and waited for him to call me. Two weeks ago he was on my mind a lot, and the next day Kal told me Craig had called him to ask him again to arrange a visit to come see me. It was terribly old fashioned but totally charming. After prodding Kal a couple times he finally sent me Craig's e-mail and I invited him to come over myself.
That was a week ago. He didn't come over because he was in the last minute rush to get things ready for his trip to the Maritimes where he's presently visiting three elderly aunts on Cape Breton and Newfoundland. Before he left, he did respond to me, saying he's like to be a closer friend, and in a series of messages over the next 3 days we confessed wanting to take it much further than just being friends.
He won't be back in town until August 6th, and we will both be busy much of the rest of the month. He'll be camping and I'll be taking in the Queer Film Festival and going to Breitenbush for 5 days, I hope. In September Brian and Dean are visiting for a week and then Nina Spadtke is returning from Germany at the end of the month. Then I'll have 16 days at the Vancouver International Film Festival. There won't be much time for dating for either of us so nothing is likely to happen too quickly.
But then again, an awful lot happened over a couple days just with e-mails. It felt like a Copernicus shift, when instead of the sun going around the world it's the other way around. I have lost interest in the chat lines and any faint glimmers of hope that were still smoldering (mostly illusions and there haven't been many). Neither of us have dated since the last millennium so it should be interesting. He is well aware of my disability and sees beyond that to something more beautiful, which isn't easy to get to with another gay man. But I still cannot quite believe that anything will ever happen. I am too defensive to go there yet, which is probably the true source of my incredible patience. But wouldn't it be wonderful....
I would see Craig sometimes on weekends at the Fountainhead Pub, a frequent hang out of mine. He would come in from New Westminster, where he lives, if Kal would be there, and Kal, a social butterfly, always had a circle of friends around him. Craig, on the other hand, was rather shy by comparison and felt more comfortable speaking only to those he knew so it wasn't easy in all the noise to get to know him. The circle of friends, outside of Kal and Craig, made no effort to include me when I tried to join them so I usually kept my distance.
Times changed. Kal met the love of his life and totally settled down. Craig gave up on winning him over and came in less often, but he kept in touch with Kal and Kal always updated me on what and how Craig was doing. Neither of them really knew how attracted I was to Craig.
A few months ago I saw Craig sitting with his group of drinking friends as I was on my way out, and I stopped to say hello. I placed my arm around his shoulders as I chatted with him. It felt wonderful and he seemed to soak it up, but I left after a few minutes so not to have my affection appear to be a cheap come on. The next day he asked Kal to arrange a time to bring him over to see my art. Kal told about his request but never followed through.
I was amazingly patient and waited for him to call me. Two weeks ago he was on my mind a lot, and the next day Kal told me Craig had called him to ask him again to arrange a visit to come see me. It was terribly old fashioned but totally charming. After prodding Kal a couple times he finally sent me Craig's e-mail and I invited him to come over myself.
That was a week ago. He didn't come over because he was in the last minute rush to get things ready for his trip to the Maritimes where he's presently visiting three elderly aunts on Cape Breton and Newfoundland. Before he left, he did respond to me, saying he's like to be a closer friend, and in a series of messages over the next 3 days we confessed wanting to take it much further than just being friends.
He won't be back in town until August 6th, and we will both be busy much of the rest of the month. He'll be camping and I'll be taking in the Queer Film Festival and going to Breitenbush for 5 days, I hope. In September Brian and Dean are visiting for a week and then Nina Spadtke is returning from Germany at the end of the month. Then I'll have 16 days at the Vancouver International Film Festival. There won't be much time for dating for either of us so nothing is likely to happen too quickly.
But then again, an awful lot happened over a couple days just with e-mails. It felt like a Copernicus shift, when instead of the sun going around the world it's the other way around. I have lost interest in the chat lines and any faint glimmers of hope that were still smoldering (mostly illusions and there haven't been many). Neither of us have dated since the last millennium so it should be interesting. He is well aware of my disability and sees beyond that to something more beautiful, which isn't easy to get to with another gay man. But I still cannot quite believe that anything will ever happen. I am too defensive to go there yet, which is probably the true source of my incredible patience. But wouldn't it be wonderful....
Saturday, July 10, 2010
a hazy, warm summer Saturday
Summer finally hit last Monday, a wall of sunshine and patches of cloud that will stretch until mid-to-late August, when our 6-week quota of warm weather dries up. It was a hottish week, temperature reaching 28C but the water and 33 inland. I've been low energy in the heat of my condo, falling asleep stretched out naked on top of my sheets and throwing one sheet over my legs in the middle of the night when the night air cools off.
Last night a thin layer of clouds came in, more a streaky haze than actual cloud. It has lowered the temperatures a little and made working on my glass work a definite possibility today. I went to bed late but woke up early, around 7, a filtered sunlight already streaking through the red-orange-gold-tan coloured abstract mosaic I put into my French doors that separate my bedroom from my workshop.
I was at Joe's Diner by 8:10 and on my way to Kona to buy more background glass for Yves' bamboo window. I am using Duncan "Rain", an elegant and expensive glue chip I am quite fond of but which Kona will soon stop restocking. I bought 4 sq ft just to have a little extra around. The half-hour bus ride to the store was pleasant but already getting warm. I am glad I got this done early. From the upper part of Knight St the blue, almost snow-free mountains don't look so wonderful through the warm brown haze. Still, the sunshine and warmth, accompanied by the early morning quiet and the promise of a full day ahead of me, put me in a positive and loving mood. I was thinking that if I had someone, it would be a perfect day for cuddling romantically in each others' arms.
But no such luck. I finally connected with Craig P after Kal forwarded his e-mail. It has been perhaps 5 months or more since I last saw him at the Fountainhead Pub. That last time I held his shoulders in a gentle, protective embrace as we chatted. He seemed very receptive to my touch and later suggested to Kal that he bring him to my place to see my glass. Months passed. For some strange reason I thought about him again the week before last and the next day Kal told me he had received an e-mail from him asking again when Kal would bring him over to my place. With a little reminder from me, Kal sent his e-mail and I contacted him directly to invite him to visit me.
Nothing has happened since then. Craig said he was probably coming downtown last night (he lives in New Westminster) but he didn't contact me. He hasn't yet phoned me or offered me his number. Ours will be an e-mail relationship for now, until he either decides to respond to my show of interest (which will probably not happen now that I have expressed it) or until we lose interest in the endless procrastination. He emailed me this morning to say he is off home to Newfoundland for his summer vacation very soon. The optimism of a new friendship has been moved to the back burner after only two days.
But there is always the glass and the writing inviting me to spend quality alone time with myself. I have only 47 pieces left on the bamboo window, most of which I hope to have done by this evening.
Last night a thin layer of clouds came in, more a streaky haze than actual cloud. It has lowered the temperatures a little and made working on my glass work a definite possibility today. I went to bed late but woke up early, around 7, a filtered sunlight already streaking through the red-orange-gold-tan coloured abstract mosaic I put into my French doors that separate my bedroom from my workshop.
I was at Joe's Diner by 8:10 and on my way to Kona to buy more background glass for Yves' bamboo window. I am using Duncan "Rain", an elegant and expensive glue chip I am quite fond of but which Kona will soon stop restocking. I bought 4 sq ft just to have a little extra around. The half-hour bus ride to the store was pleasant but already getting warm. I am glad I got this done early. From the upper part of Knight St the blue, almost snow-free mountains don't look so wonderful through the warm brown haze. Still, the sunshine and warmth, accompanied by the early morning quiet and the promise of a full day ahead of me, put me in a positive and loving mood. I was thinking that if I had someone, it would be a perfect day for cuddling romantically in each others' arms.
But no such luck. I finally connected with Craig P after Kal forwarded his e-mail. It has been perhaps 5 months or more since I last saw him at the Fountainhead Pub. That last time I held his shoulders in a gentle, protective embrace as we chatted. He seemed very receptive to my touch and later suggested to Kal that he bring him to my place to see my glass. Months passed. For some strange reason I thought about him again the week before last and the next day Kal told me he had received an e-mail from him asking again when Kal would bring him over to my place. With a little reminder from me, Kal sent his e-mail and I contacted him directly to invite him to visit me.
Nothing has happened since then. Craig said he was probably coming downtown last night (he lives in New Westminster) but he didn't contact me. He hasn't yet phoned me or offered me his number. Ours will be an e-mail relationship for now, until he either decides to respond to my show of interest (which will probably not happen now that I have expressed it) or until we lose interest in the endless procrastination. He emailed me this morning to say he is off home to Newfoundland for his summer vacation very soon. The optimism of a new friendship has been moved to the back burner after only two days.
But there is always the glass and the writing inviting me to spend quality alone time with myself. I have only 47 pieces left on the bamboo window, most of which I hope to have done by this evening.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
of Singapore, cats and cargo
My old friend Wai Sing swung through town last weekend, on his way from visiting his family in Montreal to his new home in Singapore. He was hauling an amazing amount of luggage, including a 50 lb suitcase with wheels, a sports bag with about 40 lbs in it (by the time he left) and a 20 lb computer bag.
He arrived around 8 pm, the same evening as I was coming down with a whopper of a head cold, my second this year. For the entirety of his 27 hr visit I was having alternating coughing and sneezing fits. Other than that his visit was wonderful.
He had brought many gifts for his family and friends, a Singapore T-shirt for me, and was hauling back a cargo of items he could not easily buy in Singapore, including canned sardines, Premium crackers, black peppercorns and two cat carriers, amongst many other things.
The cat carriers are for two street cats he and his wife have become extremely fond of. Their housing authority does not allow couples to keep cats in their condo and there has been a complaint about the cats Wai Sing and his wife feed. Wai Sing is afraid the government will have a cull of stray cats in the area, so he plans to vaccinate and ship their two favourite strays back to a better life in Canada. Lucky cats.
Wai Sing had many observations about Singapore. He says it is a rule-driven city and that's its people are very shallow, mostly concerned with acquiring wealth and image and little more. Local men don't like marrying local women, he says, because they are only after the 3 C's: cars, cash and condo. The city is 70% Chinese and there is a strong disdain for Malays amongst them, which is why Singapore was forced out of Malaysia in 1960. The government encourages the growth of the Chinese population over other races so it upsets them that so many Singaporean men bring in foreign brides, often not Chinese. This time a Singaporean woman has found a foreign husband who, although Canadian, happens to be also Chinese, but it hasn't helped him get his landing papers any faster.
Wai Sing loves to cycle, though Singapore streets are too narrow and the weather too hot. We met while we were on our respective tours of Europe in Lille, France, in 1991, though we have never cycled together. He was injured by a taxi just before I met him in the Lille youth hostel, and could not ride for a couple weeks. We exchanged addresses and, when we were both back in Canada, he in Montreal and I in Toronto at the time, we reconnected. A year or two later he moved to Toronto with his current girlfriend and started the Ontario Cyclist newsletter, which I contributed articles to.
Since I moved to Vancouver 14 years ago I have only met him once, when I visited Toronto in 2004. He has taken on another role, being my web master for my stained glass art website -- www.intergate.ca/~tomilson This was his first visit to my home since then, and I had to have a major cold. Of course, I complained about how I felt like shit, which was honest. He told me I was being a drama queen. None of my gay friends has ever accused me of this, but then perhaps I am not in comparison. Since he has pointed it out to me, yes, I do appear to be a bit of a drama queen from time to time. Being sick does bring it out of me.
Wai Sing left Saturday night, after making two separate trips to the airport so that he wouldn't have to carry all three bags at once. He was already so tired after he dropped the first one off that he fell asleep and missed his exit on the return. He showered, changed and was out the door again with his last two bags in 15 minutes. His flight left at 2am Sunday morning, probably arriving late Monday in Singapore. It takes 13 hours to get to Hong Kong and probably 3 more to get to Singapore and a stop-over.
Thanks Wai Sing. Hope you made it safely.
He arrived around 8 pm, the same evening as I was coming down with a whopper of a head cold, my second this year. For the entirety of his 27 hr visit I was having alternating coughing and sneezing fits. Other than that his visit was wonderful.
He had brought many gifts for his family and friends, a Singapore T-shirt for me, and was hauling back a cargo of items he could not easily buy in Singapore, including canned sardines, Premium crackers, black peppercorns and two cat carriers, amongst many other things.
The cat carriers are for two street cats he and his wife have become extremely fond of. Their housing authority does not allow couples to keep cats in their condo and there has been a complaint about the cats Wai Sing and his wife feed. Wai Sing is afraid the government will have a cull of stray cats in the area, so he plans to vaccinate and ship their two favourite strays back to a better life in Canada. Lucky cats.
Wai Sing had many observations about Singapore. He says it is a rule-driven city and that's its people are very shallow, mostly concerned with acquiring wealth and image and little more. Local men don't like marrying local women, he says, because they are only after the 3 C's: cars, cash and condo. The city is 70% Chinese and there is a strong disdain for Malays amongst them, which is why Singapore was forced out of Malaysia in 1960. The government encourages the growth of the Chinese population over other races so it upsets them that so many Singaporean men bring in foreign brides, often not Chinese. This time a Singaporean woman has found a foreign husband who, although Canadian, happens to be also Chinese, but it hasn't helped him get his landing papers any faster.
Wai Sing loves to cycle, though Singapore streets are too narrow and the weather too hot. We met while we were on our respective tours of Europe in Lille, France, in 1991, though we have never cycled together. He was injured by a taxi just before I met him in the Lille youth hostel, and could not ride for a couple weeks. We exchanged addresses and, when we were both back in Canada, he in Montreal and I in Toronto at the time, we reconnected. A year or two later he moved to Toronto with his current girlfriend and started the Ontario Cyclist newsletter, which I contributed articles to.
Since I moved to Vancouver 14 years ago I have only met him once, when I visited Toronto in 2004. He has taken on another role, being my web master for my stained glass art website -- www.intergate.ca/~tomilson This was his first visit to my home since then, and I had to have a major cold. Of course, I complained about how I felt like shit, which was honest. He told me I was being a drama queen. None of my gay friends has ever accused me of this, but then perhaps I am not in comparison. Since he has pointed it out to me, yes, I do appear to be a bit of a drama queen from time to time. Being sick does bring it out of me.
Wai Sing left Saturday night, after making two separate trips to the airport so that he wouldn't have to carry all three bags at once. He was already so tired after he dropped the first one off that he fell asleep and missed his exit on the return. He showered, changed and was out the door again with his last two bags in 15 minutes. His flight left at 2am Sunday morning, probably arriving late Monday in Singapore. It takes 13 hours to get to Hong Kong and probably 3 more to get to Singapore and a stop-over.
Thanks Wai Sing. Hope you made it safely.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Quiet chaos
It was a calm pleasant morning on Monday, cloudy but mild. I was awake by 6:20 and into the shower half an hour early. I made my lunch and got out the door a few minutes after 7, 40 minutes early. I used my head start to go for breakfast at Joe's Diner, a block away.
Being out early is like a blessing. The sidewalks are empty, the traffic still fairly light. That morning was gentle, fresh and alive. I felt grateful for our peaceful world where there are no government oppression, no gangs, no squalor, no violence.
I made my way from the back door up the hill through the parking lot to Burrard St. I had just reached the street when I noticed a Busters tow truck hoisting up an illegally parked car. I was thinking to myself how fortunate I am not to be a car owner.
The driver hopped into the cab and began to drive away just as I was along side of him. He was towing the car from the rear, but its front wheel steering had not been locked. As the driver gently pulled away from the curb the front wheels turned and the front end of the car swung into the curb. As gentle as the morning breeze, it rolled up onto the sidewalk and hit the parking meter beside me, bending it flat to the ground, but not before it tore a size-able hole in the side of the car's front end.
The driver got out and calmly surveyed the extensive damage as I continued on. It was a simple mistake with undoubtedly huge consequences to follow He had ruined not only the side of the car, the parking meter, his day and his week, but perhaps his employment as well.
Chaos comes suddenly, without warning or provocation, and the damage is extensive and non-retractable. My life is peaceful and consistent for now, but any day chaos could arrive in the form or a fall or an accident I cannot step out of the way of. It will be much like this.
Being out early is like a blessing. The sidewalks are empty, the traffic still fairly light. That morning was gentle, fresh and alive. I felt grateful for our peaceful world where there are no government oppression, no gangs, no squalor, no violence.
I made my way from the back door up the hill through the parking lot to Burrard St. I had just reached the street when I noticed a Busters tow truck hoisting up an illegally parked car. I was thinking to myself how fortunate I am not to be a car owner.
The driver hopped into the cab and began to drive away just as I was along side of him. He was towing the car from the rear, but its front wheel steering had not been locked. As the driver gently pulled away from the curb the front wheels turned and the front end of the car swung into the curb. As gentle as the morning breeze, it rolled up onto the sidewalk and hit the parking meter beside me, bending it flat to the ground, but not before it tore a size-able hole in the side of the car's front end.
The driver got out and calmly surveyed the extensive damage as I continued on. It was a simple mistake with undoubtedly huge consequences to follow He had ruined not only the side of the car, the parking meter, his day and his week, but perhaps his employment as well.
Chaos comes suddenly, without warning or provocation, and the damage is extensive and non-retractable. My life is peaceful and consistent for now, but any day chaos could arrive in the form or a fall or an accident I cannot step out of the way of. It will be much like this.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Chat lines
I am effort to put myself more "out there" for making new social contacts, such as friends and potential dates, I have tried frequenting gay.com over the past two months. I cannot yet say anything good has come out of it, but I can certainly say lots of bad things have.
The very limited number I have met through the lines have all been either frauds, freaks or con artists, but usually it never gets anywhere close to that. The first step is to make contact, which either involves lying in wake awaiting for a prey to bite, like a tarantula or a venus fly trap, hoping that someone will IM (instant message) me to start a conversation, or by taking the rejection risk of inviting others to partake in a conversation.
One can grow moldy waiting for the first option to happen. I have learned that of 100 people signed in, 90 may be away from their computers or have the chat line running in the background while they do other work all day. Some, for some unknown reason, even leave it on after they have gone to sleep, though it could be said many signed on are permanently in a state of sleep.
The second method is definitely harder on the ego, especially if you don't have a headless naked torso shot of a defined hard physique and are under the age of 32. 95% of my attempts to strike up a chat fall on infertile ground. Most (80%) don't bother to reply at all. Some will reply with the standard tit-for-tat pat introduction phrases (or single 'words' in some cases) that can have very extended gaps between replies. They usually fall silent after 3 to 6 exchanges, rarely revealing anything real about the person I was talking to.
A few others actually start a real conversation about art, travel, or life problems, something beyond just an interview for their next sexual or marital experience. Some of them take my phone number or give me theirs, though they never call and are not there when I do. One from Colombia even talked to me for two hours, over which time we agreed we were mutually attracted, had many similar interests, were likely sexually compatible and had similar emotional needs. The next day though, after making me promise to meet on line again, he told me he wasn't interested in any kind of on-line dating, which I quickly agreed to, and then proceeded to block my responses using a setting that makes his presence invisible to me. Only 3 calls have led to a meeting, all very dead end and regrettable, but never has it led to a possible friendship.
I have 3 remote possibilities which have not yet crashed and burned; one an intelligent Thai guy who chats between serving customers in a hotel in Penticton, another a local fellow into yoga who is mildly interested in chatting but is always multi-tasking as we do, and a young lanky blond fellow (31) in New Westminster who I just contacted two days ago.
I always feel like apologizing for being 55, almost a sin on the chat lines if you initiate a conversation, though I hate setting myself up in a beggar situation. I am not desperate and am actually NOT hunting for a fuck. I am one of very few (less than 10%) who actually have taken the time to write a profile describing themselves and/or what they are looking for. I am getting exasperated by my frustrated efforts.
I suppose, as a generalization, chat lines are no more intended for chatting than bath houses are for bathing.
The very limited number I have met through the lines have all been either frauds, freaks or con artists, but usually it never gets anywhere close to that. The first step is to make contact, which either involves lying in wake awaiting for a prey to bite, like a tarantula or a venus fly trap, hoping that someone will IM (instant message) me to start a conversation, or by taking the rejection risk of inviting others to partake in a conversation.
One can grow moldy waiting for the first option to happen. I have learned that of 100 people signed in, 90 may be away from their computers or have the chat line running in the background while they do other work all day. Some, for some unknown reason, even leave it on after they have gone to sleep, though it could be said many signed on are permanently in a state of sleep.
The second method is definitely harder on the ego, especially if you don't have a headless naked torso shot of a defined hard physique and are under the age of 32. 95% of my attempts to strike up a chat fall on infertile ground. Most (80%) don't bother to reply at all. Some will reply with the standard tit-for-tat pat introduction phrases (or single 'words' in some cases) that can have very extended gaps between replies. They usually fall silent after 3 to 6 exchanges, rarely revealing anything real about the person I was talking to.
A few others actually start a real conversation about art, travel, or life problems, something beyond just an interview for their next sexual or marital experience. Some of them take my phone number or give me theirs, though they never call and are not there when I do. One from Colombia even talked to me for two hours, over which time we agreed we were mutually attracted, had many similar interests, were likely sexually compatible and had similar emotional needs. The next day though, after making me promise to meet on line again, he told me he wasn't interested in any kind of on-line dating, which I quickly agreed to, and then proceeded to block my responses using a setting that makes his presence invisible to me. Only 3 calls have led to a meeting, all very dead end and regrettable, but never has it led to a possible friendship.
I have 3 remote possibilities which have not yet crashed and burned; one an intelligent Thai guy who chats between serving customers in a hotel in Penticton, another a local fellow into yoga who is mildly interested in chatting but is always multi-tasking as we do, and a young lanky blond fellow (31) in New Westminster who I just contacted two days ago.
I always feel like apologizing for being 55, almost a sin on the chat lines if you initiate a conversation, though I hate setting myself up in a beggar situation. I am not desperate and am actually NOT hunting for a fuck. I am one of very few (less than 10%) who actually have taken the time to write a profile describing themselves and/or what they are looking for. I am getting exasperated by my frustrated efforts.
I suppose, as a generalization, chat lines are no more intended for chatting than bath houses are for bathing.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Friends
It's amazing how dependent on my friends I am. I haven't seen any of them for a week, since Eric & Fred came over last Sunday. Normally on Sundays between 11 and 1, I go to Faerie Coffee to meet several of them, but now Faerie Coffee is suspended and will likely relocate to another part of the city to make it more accessible to other Faes. It has replaced with a big emptiness, fitting for such a grey, wet day.
There was a long line-up at Joe's Diner today. This morning was the Sun Run around Stanley Park and the West End, one of the most popular annual events in Vancouver. I had forgotten. The restaurant was filled with lanky runner types and their friends who came to cheer them on or celebrate over brunch with them afterwards. It took a long time to get a seat and another long wait to get my food. I could have made breakfast at home but I needed to get out and be around other people, even in the line-up, although I didn't talk with anyone.
Now I am at home wondering how I will fill the rest of my day. I need something to motivate me and take my mind off my isolation.I am considering a new stained glass project, either Yves' bamboo window for his bedroom door, a dragonfly sun-catcher for Stitch or perhaps a new design for myself, an autumn tree in a wind storm, although I have no place to hang it.
There was a long line-up at Joe's Diner today. This morning was the Sun Run around Stanley Park and the West End, one of the most popular annual events in Vancouver. I had forgotten. The restaurant was filled with lanky runner types and their friends who came to cheer them on or celebrate over brunch with them afterwards. It took a long time to get a seat and another long wait to get my food. I could have made breakfast at home but I needed to get out and be around other people, even in the line-up, although I didn't talk with anyone.
Now I am at home wondering how I will fill the rest of my day. I need something to motivate me and take my mind off my isolation.I am considering a new stained glass project, either Yves' bamboo window for his bedroom door, a dragonfly sun-catcher for Stitch or perhaps a new design for myself, an autumn tree in a wind storm, although I have no place to hang it.
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