Let it be known that lingerie-shopping is second in soulcrushingness only to bathing suit shopping.

colds and needles

Out last night to Richelle and Ed's for dinner and drinks.

Nothing fancy, just a cozy chill night getting caught up with friends and conversation that bubbled until the not-so-wee hours of the morning.

Good for what ails you.

Hair of the dog for breakfast and an afternoon of tidying and laundry.

tonight i sew.

tomorrow brings an early surgery shift and an afternoon root canal.

I am sick of colds and needles.

some things

* the slow ache of muscles that tells you you're alive, and that you've earned the right to a hot bath and to be tired in a good way
* metallic taste of nightime air, when snow is on the way
* walking home with no headphones on to hear the thrumm of the city - crystal clear sound that winter brings - echoing footfalls and eavesdropped conversations
* delightful sense of urgency from a full tilt run to catch the bus - the arch look from the driver's lofty perch that says "you're lucky i'm in a good mood, kid"
* revolution is good for the soul
* honour bestowed by a cat that declares you fit company and worthy of lap time.
* in bed, swaddled in a nest of egyptian cotton and goose down, i notice that my hair still smells like cold air

i saw you in the morning
huddled against the crowd and the cold
squinting into the light
breathing fog and steam

you looked straight at me, but didn't know me
didn't remember our time together.

how we sweated
how we ached
how we fought

only recognizing that my gaze lingered on your face
a little longer than was comfortable
you turned away.

on the crowded bus
we are two strangers with a history

truants and quitters
dereliction is our bond.

and i am the only one here who knows your secret.

...

your Kung Fu is weak, sir.