Filed under: Bike Geek, Co-operator, Homebody, Music Lover, Romantic, Scavenger, Traveler
oats gave me an early birthday present!
it’s a reproduction antique compass in a brass pocket-watch-style case, and i LOVE it. i didn’t own a compass before this… which is odd, considering how important it is to my mental health for me to know my bearings. now i’ll always know what direction i’m heading, and have a something beautiful to look at whenever i’m fretting.
last night we went for a long stroll after dinner, down through the side streets to the ocean. right after we turned homewards, we came across an absolutely incredible piece of furniture at the curb. a quick discussion ensued, made urgent by the encroaching darkness and another passerby eager to check it out if we decided to pass.
the thing is, oats and i are suckers for anything made from solid wood, and we both love the lines of (most) old furniture. aside from that, we’ve been talking about diversifying our income by turning our scavenging into a more lucrative hobby, by selling the pieces that we refinish.
so, i stayed behind to guard our new treasure, and oats took off to find a co-op car. hooray for the car share: the closest vehicle was available, and it just happened to be a minivan! i’ll skip the drama of us trying to load, and simply tell you that i couldn’t even lift one side of this thing. we got it up to our 2nd story apartment by taking advantage of the kindness of burly macho men from downstairs who seemed pleased to work for a 12-pack of sleem@n’s.
and now! behold!
it’s true: we don’t actually need an RCA Victor Magic Voice combination phonograph and radio cabinet from around the 1940s. but it’s so gorgeous, and we got it for the price of some beer and a car booking (totalling ~$31, in case you were wondering). my original thought was that we’d gut it, refinish the wood, and use it as a sideboard with storage underneath… perhaps making the speaker section into a glass-doored display shelf lit from above. however, at the urging of the burly macho men downstairs, that thought is on hold as we try to suss out some more information about the piece. maybe it’d be smarter of us to restore it to working condition? we already have a functional and sexy record/radio cabinet, though very different from this one: it’s more 1960s, but still solid wood, with a low profile, modern lines, and metal legs. personally, i’d rather turn the Magic Voice into something that suits my more immediate need for attractive storage space.
or… sell it? the old sticker on the back says $445 (8th photo from top of series), but who knows what the value is these days. of course, any real value is dependent on what a person might actually pay, which is conditional on a few other factors that aren’t really in our favour: the economy’s crappy, we live on an island, and this thing weighs a ton so is hell to move. also, i like it, and i’m not desperate for cash at the moment. i think my minimum selling price would be $500, because that’d pay for oats and i to each put together a touring bike (using my stash of cherry components, a couple 2nd hand frames, and some new parts too). otherwise, i think i’d rather keep it.
all round, my birthday’s looking pretty great.
**********
i’m having a bday bbq this upcoming tuesday! it’s at oats’ place (now mine as well), above the square! 5 pm onwards! there’ll be sangria and mojitos and sausages! also, veggie stuff! also, cake! please come!
oats left this morning, and i miss her. my sadness is tempered by the fact that in one week, she’ll be picking me up at the vancouver airport and spiriting me away to our island home. fuck, i’m looking forward to that.
i went with her to the airport shuttle, which left from southern cross station at 8:30 am: it was dark when we got up, and now i’m tired and achy. it doesn”t help that i fucked-up my back a couple days ago… the muscles are seized in my neck and shoulders and there’s a lot of pain. aside from these complaints, and the loneliness that comes from the sudden absence of my beloved after 19 days of constant companionship, it was kinda nice to take the tram home from downtown just as all the commuters were heading the other direction.
what else is new? like i said last post, i’ve applied for two jobs, either of which would be very, very good. one of them pays really well and is professional-ish, though is a 35-hour workweek and could be a lot more admin tasks than i’m used to, plus involves one or two characters with whom i’ve indirectly had problems in the past… nothing serious, just that their attitudes and ways of working have had a negative impact on projects at a previous job. i think i’d really like the rest of the staff, and as much as i’d prefer to keep my workweek down to a 30 hour maximum, it would be nice to have the extra income. the other job is only 15 hours per week, and is everything i’d want in a media/personel position, including a commitment to radical politics and anti-oppressive practices. it pays less, but i’d be collaborating with great people, and the environment would complement my work at the bike shop as well as the workers’ co-op. both are union and come with benefits, which is very important cuz i haven’t seen a dentist or had new glasses since i became a non-student contract employee two years ago.
my fingers are crossed, especially for the second opportunity, but i’m not stressed about it. if neither one pans out, then i’ll have more time for other work, both self-created and external. aside from the usual small businesss plans i’m always cooking up, i’ve been thinking a lot about credit unions as of late, and would like to see if i can get some sort of part-time entry-level position.
in case it isn’t obvious, i’ve reached a point in my melbourne life where i’m no longer really here: my heart has returned to canada, and my mind is quickly following. a few more days of tying loose ends, and then the body goes too!
okay, kids, i’m done. another three months on the other side of the world is sounding like a terrible idea, especially when said world isn’t doing very well in terms of distribution of economic gains. it’s simply very difficult for a person without local connections to find employment here. i love the volunteer work i’ve been doing at the community radio station, but really… if i’m going to work for free, i have a new co-op business venture taking off back in canada that could use my attention!
besides which… well, have *you* tried being away from your lover for this long? it’s just wretched.
i changed my ticket, and will be back on the island at the start of july. anyone want to meet for beer? anyone know of any work i could do? anyone want to bike out to the lake and go for a swim?
This is a crab, trying to hide in a hole. Kinda like me. I'm better now, I swear. (Tooradin)
The Charles Town Library Society kept its books and maps in a room on Union Street. The keeper of the books sat at a desk at the entrance. He glanced at me quickly and turned away, as if from something distasteful.
“Ah yes, Mr. Lindo,” he said. “I’m afraid we don’t allow Negroes here.”
“Mr. Jackson, don’t you have a brother in the indigo trade?”
The library man carefully closed a book on his desk. “I’m sure nobody will object this one time, Mr. Lindo.”
“Good. We need some books by Voltaire, and your most recent maps of the world.”
The keeper led us to a table at the far end of the room, brought us two of Voltaire’s books and some rolled maps, and left us alone.
“Keep that fan going,” Lindo said.
“He’s not watching.”
“Use it anyway,” he said, “it’s hot in here.”
While I fanned him, Solomon Lindo untied a string around a large scroll.
“I have never seen so many books,” I said, looking around and wishing that women and Negroes were allowed in the library.
“They have a thousand books,” Mr. Lindo muttered, “and I paid for half of them.”
“Where are we?” I asked, pointing at the map.
“This is British North America,” he said, indicating a mass of land.
On the edge of the land, right up against a huge swath of blue named the Atlantic Ocean, Lindo put his finger by a dot, beside which was the name Charles Town.
“And here,” he said, “is Africa.” Across the blue sea, I saw a strangely shaped mass, wider at the top, curving in the middle and narrowing at the bottom.
“How do you know?”
“You can make out the letters if you look carefully. See here? A-F-R-I-C-A.“
“That is my land? Who says it has that strange shape?”
“The cartographers who make the maps. The traders who sail the worlds. The British and the French and the Dutch and the others who go to Africa, sailing up and down the coast, mapping the shape of the continent.”
On the map I paused over some squiggles in the form of baseless triangles. Lindo said they were meant to indicate mountains. I saw a lion and an elephant sketched in the middle of the land called Africa. I saw that it was mostly surrounded by seas. But the map told me nothing of where I came from. Nothing of Bayo, Segu, or the Joliba. Not a single thing that I recognized from my homeland.
“Here on this side of the water, in British North America,” I said, pointing, “it says Charles Town. I can see where we are. But there are no towns written on Africa. Only these places along the water. Cape Verde. Cape Mesurado. Cape Palmas. How are we to know where the villages are?”
“The villages are unknown,” Lindo said.
“I have walked through them. There are people everywhere.”
“They are unknown to the people who made this map. Look here in the corner. It says 1690. This is a copy of a map first made seventy-three years ago. They knew even less back then.”
I felt cheated. Now that I could read so well, I had been excited by the prospect of finding my own village on a map. But there were no villages – not mine or anybody else’s.
“Is there nothing more?” I asked.
Solomon Lindo looked at his watch, and said we had time for one more map.
Mapp of Africa, the second one said, Corrected with the latest and the best observations. I checked the date. 1729. Perhaps it would be better than the first. The map showed land in the shape of a mushroom with the stem shoved to the right. Near the top, I saw the words Desert of Barbary or Zaara, and below that, Negroland, and below that, along the winding, curving coasts, sections named Slave Coast, Gold Coast, Ivory Coast, and Grain Coast. There were tiny words scribbled where the land met the water, but inland was mostly sketchings of elephants, lions, and bare-breasted women. In one corner of the map, I saw a sketch of an African child lying beside a lion under a tree. I had never seen such a ridiculous thing. No child would be foolish enough to sleep with a lion. In another corner of the map, I studied a sketch of a man with a long-tailed animal sitting on his shoulder.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a monkey,” Lindo said.
This “Mapp of Africa” was not my homeland. It was a white man’s fantasy.
“There is some lack of detail,” Lindo said, “but now you see the shape of Africa.”
I said I had seen enough. After all the books I had read, and all that I had learned about the ways of white people in South Carolina, I now felt, more than ever before, that these people didn’t know me at all. They knew how to bring ships to my land. They knew how to take me from it. But they had no idea at all what my land looked like or who lived there or how we lived.
the book of negroes
lawrence hill
the subtitle to this post is “why the book of negroes should win canada reads“. in the annual competition for top honours in canadian literature, avi lewis (forever loved by those of us in the co-op movement for his film the take, made with naomi klein) is proposing that every canadian needs to read lawrence hill’s the book of negroes because it effectively tells a gripping story that runs contrary to the smugness of how canada countered slavery in the united states as the destination of the underground railroad.
i’m proposing that everyone needs to read this book simply because it demonstrates the way that geography functions as a tool of colonization, power, and oppression.
up the geographers!
>>> vote for your favourite and join the discussion over at the cbc website…
Filed under: Animal Lover, Athlete, Bike Geek, Co-operator, Critic, Homebody, Queer, Reader, Sailor, Scifi Fan, Student
wrist
the nerve conduction testing was good, in terms of results as well as experience. the tests felt the same as when i’ve accidentally touched an electric fence; i doubt it will surprise you to learn that this is a mistake that i’ve made many, many times. the other folks in the waiting room seemed pretty old and feeble, which might explain why the doctor was so enthusiastic about my health: in direct contrast to the other two doctors that i’ve seen about my wrist, this specialist said it was great that i’d been able to assemble a bike with a coaster brake so that i could rest my hands while riding. the others told me i couldn’t cycle anymore. they also told me i should find a new career, one that didn’t involve my hands. ha! instead, the specialist asked me a lot about my life, and then said that i seem like i’m someone who simply is very hard on my hands, and that i need to learn my limits. huh? limits? que es?
anyway, to summarize: tests are normal, i’m to get an ultrasound and blood tests to see if anything else could be causing the pain/stiffness, the doc doesn’t recommend surgery, and i’m to check-in after i get home from oz in august. i still have days when i’m shocked by how weak my hand is, but it’s manageable.
dog
my ex has gone away for ten days, and so i have her dog. it’s nice, though i’ve been driving everywhere instead of biking: dawson does not do the bike trailer. still, we’ve been walking a lot, and i have plans to do an overnight next weekend… maybe to mystic beach, or sombrio.
house
i’m waiting to hear back from my landlady about subletting my place while i’m away; she might prefer to take this opportunity to end my tenancy, then renovate and turn the apartment into a vacation rental for wheelchair-users. as sad as i’d be to lose my home, i love that idea! though, i think the driveway is too steep for anyone without a powerchair or companion… but i could be wrong about that.
work
i’m having a meeting this weekend with a couple of conspirators, to talk about drawing up a business plan for a co-op. like, for realz: i want a job that has meaning, and i want to use my skills, and i want to work with people who share my values, ethics, and goals. as much as the deconstruction of my workplace has really sucked, it’s creating a situation in which i now know a couple of people who are in this exact same position. up from the ashes, my friends, our phoenix shall rise.
school
fuck, i hate it when academics tell me that i’m wasting my life by not going to grad school.
i mean, it bugs me when people in general say this, but i forgive them because i figure they don’t know that of which they speak. but academics? and specifically the one who’s responsible for creating such a craptastic work environment these past 6 months? yeah, NO. go away.
wardrobe
i went to a clothing exchange this past saturday, and gave away ~1/3 my shirts plus a whole bunch of stuff that i’d barely worn since picking it up at the last clothing exchange that was populated by this same group of people. we just keep switching outfits: it’s pretty fun to watch. i came away with a cute pair of shoes and two dresses: a more utilitarian one that i wore to work at the bike shop yesterday, and a fancier one that i’ll be saving for an upcoming hot date (i believe the term “pin-up girl” was included in the comments made when i tried it on).
run
i’m on week 5 of the c0uch to 5k running program. it’s the second time i’ve gotten to this point, and i’m looking forward to pushing past it instead of getting distracted as i have in the past. two things are making it easier this time: one is that i’m running with my lover, whose chosen pseudonym is oats (i’ll have to get her to explain that one), and she’s just as wheezy as i am. three cheers for asthmatics! the other thing making it easier is that we’re running on our lunch breaks. aside from the bonus of post-run showers, a midday run puts me in a better position to maintain my daily cycling commute. before, i would get up and run, then eat breakfast, and then ride 10k: it was too much for me, and i’d feel drained all day. now i feel like the hours spent at my desk between activities are well-earned rest and snacking periods.
book
some friends of oats’ were getting rid of several boxes of books, and i got to go through them. score! a copy of herland, charlotte perkins gilman’s 1915 utopian feminist novel! there’s an excellent review over at the feminist sci-fi blog.
sail
my boss gave me a woolen sailing sweater that she bought in france, eons ago. it’s all rad and stripey and warm as-all-get-out, and has buttons on the shoulder. i can’t wait to wear it out on the water… or incorporate it into another sort of situation… “oui oui, vien ici, ma petite chaton, heh heh heh…”
bike
yesterday i was reminded of a valuable lesson: before putting all the effort into dismantling, cleaning, greasing, and reassembling the hub of the rear wheel for that crusty raleigh cruiser you’re rebuilding, check the rim. just… look at it. if you do this, you may notice the massive fucking rusty bulge on the side of the rim, a bulge that is impossible to hammer out. then you will have the opportunity to stop and find yourself a new wheel or rim, before you’ve wasted most of your day on something that is not worthwhile.
this, my friends, is why i remain a devoted bike geek instead of a paid bike mechanic.
[photo: dawson at mystic beach, august 2007]
More info to follow shortly… With more photos, including some of the panniers on my bike!
For now, I simply have to tell you how amazing this is: Through my job, I know someone who works with womens’ felt-making co-operatives in Mongolian, and in chatting with her about new products for the international market, I suggested that cycling panniers would be pretty cool. Next thing you know, she’s taking my ancient cheap nylon panniers on a trip to Central Asia, and a month later here I am with the most beautiful panniers I’ve ever seen!
Especially because they are far above and beyond all of my hopes for ethical consumption: Constructed primarily from renewable resources! Made by women in a democratic work environment! Created using traditional skills! Marketed at fair trade prices! ZOMG!
These are a prototype: When I suggested the idea, I said that I’d buy the first pair and try them out, so that the co-ops don’t lose any money on the project. I iz teh guinea pig! And paying for the privilege, gladly. Tonight these are going onto my bicycle, and we will see what happens. I’m predicting that they’ll get covered in mud, and that despite this fact, I will still be flooded with compliments on how gorgeous they are.
Filed under: Co-operator, Cynic, Dreamer, Family Member, Feminist, Friend, Queer, Reader, Scifi Fan, Student, Traveler, Worker
there’s nothing like hanging out with a regular reader to remind a blogger of all the things she’s left hanging over the past several posts. last week, i was lucky enough to share breakfast with the sagacious rrr (and his equally astute romantic companion), and the dude was all like: “ummm… aren’t you supposed to be in japan right now?”
oooh, right… maybe i shouldn’t use this space as a *partial* brain dump, considering that somebody reading it might be wanting continuity or an actual storyline or even just the odd tying-up-of-loose-ends. obviously, it’d be better it i simply downloaded all contents of my mind into these pages. or stop blogging. how about i compromise, and do a monday round-up post?
japan
i’m not going. reasons: i can’t afford it. my regular life is too full of stress as it is, and trying to make it in a country where i don’t speak the language will be very exhausting. my main reason for wanting to go was because i wanted to spend time with m., and really, we could easily do that right here in the city where we both live. my other main reason for wanting to go was because i wanted to live in a different part of the world, and i’m eternally grateful to m. for getting me thinking about this, cuz honestly: until that afternoon when we bumped into one another and she started talking about japan, i had forgotten that i could leave this island.
australia
i’m going. i have a plane ticket to melbourne: i’m leaving on april 3rd and coming back on august 10th. i have a work visa, and hopefully will be able to room with friends (if they find a big enough place!). otherwise, i’ll just find some rad unknown roommates, ideally bike geeks who are down with critical analysis, queers, co-ops, and DIY. from what i hear of the city, this should not be too hard. my friend who is living in melbourne has been recommending clothing choices, my mom sent me the lonely planet guide to east coast australia, and i’ve got a very wonderful person making plans to visit me there in june: these things make it feel more real, because suddenly it’s not all in my head.
job
i started a new contract today, and as per my request, it’s only three months long. this morning, i told my boss that i’ll be leaving after that, and she told me that she doesn’t blame me, considering the situation around here (currently, a power-struggle involving the five project directors… five!!!). so, i’ve got twelve weeks to wind up and document 2.5 years worth of publications and event coordination: a sincerely delightful prospect.
school
i took a class this past term, something you may not have known because i barely mentioned it. it was a graduate level course, though i was taking it as a non-degree undergrad… the only one in a seminar with 7 other students who were all working on their masters’ degrees. this could have been overwhelming, but was actually quite good. i do well with a small audience. the course was in feminist research methodologies: i loved it, i hated it, i was in frequent crisis about it… and i pulled off an A, as well as a general sense of relief that i didn’t get accepted into graduate school cuz otherwise my days would be full of that sort of thing.
instead of trying for graduate school again, i am back to thinking about my plan to become an electrician. i couldget some scholarships and start the 6 month foundation program next fall, with the long term plan of getting together with all my other rad tradeswomen friends and forming a feminist workers’ co-op contracting business. eventually, we’ll get our own reality teevee show, in which pink will act as host while we build affordable and sustainable housing, are damn clever, and look damn hot. we’ll mentor young women in trades, and generally be a successful community economic development initiative. yay, dreams! srsly, it could be fantastic.
carpal tunnel
my (hawt) acupuncturist went to india, and i’m no longer a student so don’t have extended health coverage and thus cannot afford the massage therapist. have not been to a doctor in months, and don’t plan on it. i wear the wrist brace (fake-honky-flesh-tone corset!) most nights while sleeping, and received a p0werb@ll gyroscopic hand-exerciser-thingy as a solstice gift, which i think has been helping. for the most part, i’m hardly in pain anymore: my wrist is just very stiff, sometimes the fingers are numb, and it cracks a lot when i twist it. i’m going to start a 12-week set of (queer!) yoga classes next week, to aid in strengthening muscles as well as relaxation.
new year’s eve
i spent nye waiting for my neighbours to arrive home from south carolina, because we had plans to eat dinner, drink wine, and fry some oliebollen. they never showed up (stranded in toronto), so i had an unexpected and delightful night with my best friend instead. we had such a good time, it’s surprising that we didn’t plan it. or maybe that’s partly what made it so good.
reading
current books that lay half-read next to my bed are alanya to alanya (2005) by l. timmel duchamp, marion zimmer bradley’s the winds of darkover (1970), and sappho was a right-on woman: a liberated view of lesbianism (1972) by sidney abbott and barbara love. i love sci-fi, i love feminism, i love stuff from the seventies. right on!
family
for solstice, i bought my 18-year-old sister some lube and a vibrator.
my buddy c was supposed to meet me for beer after work yesterday, at the grad lounge. while waiting for him, i bumped into m, whom i’d met at the dubcee some years ago. back then, we bonded over the fact that we both grew up in toronto. i think about her sometimes, cuz she’s one of those people who triggered my precognition: i’ve always felt like something in my future involves her. anyway, we chatted about academic angst/feminism/whatever while standing in the grad centre lobby. after a while, i decided that i’d been stood up by c, and accepted m’s invite to join her for a drink instead.
we only hung out for an hour or so, but it was one of those fast-paced energetic conversations that feed my expanding capacity for new plans and schemes.
remember last spring, when i wrote about deciding not to go to japan for 10 days? well, it’s come up again, but differently: m has invited me to share an apartment with her in tokyo for april-june. three months in japan… such a good amount of time! long enough to feel it, short enough to not get stuck in bad moods.
how could i afford it? m has a contract at a school for those months, and says i could probably teach too. but i don’t have any experience! could get some before going, i suppose: there are tons of ESL schools here in vic. m’s other advice is to simply get a working holiday visa, which is what she did when she first went there years ago. not sure if my smattering of bike mechanics/web programming/publishing software/co-op development/barrista skills would apply to many jobs, especially since i know next to no japanese. i’m a good copy editor, though. maybe i could just tutor english? or… be a conversation partner for queers wanting to learn english? heh heh. it’s a specialized vocabulary!
i don’t know. it’s an exciting idea. i’m doing pretty good financially, working evenings/weekends on website contracts. also, i used to be obsessed with japan, and even took a language class when i was fifteen. another consideration is that the visa is only open to people younger than 30 years old. i don’t want to regret that i didn’t take advantage of this opportunity. at the same time, it’s so unknown: whether i’ll hate it there, or not be able to find work, or if i’d be better off committing to bigger/better things here in my community. yeah. i don’t know. advice?
Filed under: Activist, Animal Lover, Athlete, Co-operator, Friend, Homebody, Sailor
i started running in january, because i want to do a 10km race this spring and figured i could use as much time as possible to get ready for it. i also am getting some help, through a weekly training clinic at the local rec centre. throughout this, i’ve learned that i have strong preferences regarding my running experience. or rather, there are several factors that make it easier for me to dress in un-cool clothes and shoes made by slave children, and trot around the block:
one, i prefer to run with no humans. humans talk too much. they also distract me with their mere presence, but that’s probably because i’ve been running with strangers. i might not mind so much, to run with someone with whom i felt comfortable enough to simply be silent. that’s what i like: to be silent, and let my thoughts wander.
two, i prefer to run with a dog. specifically, my romantic associate’s dog, though i suppose another one might do in a pinch. the dog likes to pause every so often, for peeing and sniffing, but that’s a good excuse for me to take a break. otherwise, he just runs and runs, slowing when he’s tired but never complaining. it’s a good incentive for me to act the same.
three, i prefer to run at night, or at least at dusk. when it’s dark out, people turn on the lights inside their homes and i can see inside as i run past. this satisfies my desperate curiosity to know the secret mundane details of other people’s lives, and also fuels the wandering of my thoughts.
———-
i went sailing this past sunday, invited along for a day trip with friends who have a small trimaran. good friends to have, indeed! many of you know that i have long-cherished dreams of living on a sailboat, which have thus far seemed kinda silly because i don’t know much about sailing… so you can imagine how absolutely amazing it was for me to actually be out on the ocean! i’d show you the photos, except that my camera fell overboard. (luckily, b took a few with her phone, as evidenced by the pic above)
———-
as i was going to spend some time with a baby this past monday, b sent me to following link:
http://www.makememinimal.com/2008/instrucciones-para-cuidar-un-bebe/
which made me laugh very very very hard, because i’d already told a friend that my plan for playing with the baby was to teach him feminist theory. gotta start the indoctrination process early, you know? my other idea was to play backgammon… *not* chess.
———-
i’ve organized a meeting with a rep from the housing co-op for this coming sunday, and now just need to get my housemates to attend. i went around the building last night, knocking on doors: only one person answered, even though i know some of the others were home. that’s the way it is in my house: people mind their own business. maybe a little too much.
the one person i talked with has to work on sunday, but will try to get out of her shift and wants to be kept updated on the situation. she also gave me the info that the co-op rep needs regarding each suite: how big it is and how much the tenant currently pays.
talked to another neighbour this morning, as our dogs played at the park, and she said she’ll be there. that’s one person at least, in addition to myself, b, and the co-op rep. a small party, but could be a fun one!
i don’t know if my downstairs neighbour (with the violent girlfriend) has been given 30 days notice yet, but it’s been pretty quiet. oh, except for a little while yesterday evening, when someone down there was intermittently playing “fantasy” by mariah carey at an extremely high volume. the floors were shaking. wtf? this worries me, because it could mean that my downstairs neighbour’s mental health is suffering, or that his crazy girlfriend is back (and maybe high).
i haven’t invited him to the meeting.
it’s a week later and everything feels better.
this past saturday morning, i was running out of the house to meet a friend for breakfast. as i was getting on my bike, my downstairs neighbour came out of his apartment. he saw me and suddenly looked kinda awkward, but we said hi to one another. then the damnedest thing happened: he thanked me for calling the cops on thursday night. “well… i was worried about you,” i replied. he told me that their relationship is over, him and his (ex-)girlfriend. he also told me how she’s younger than him and likes to party and she gets out of hand and he just can’t be part of that anymore. they had been together for two years, and he was worried about her coming to pick up the rest of her stuff, because she might be violent again. he said he was thinking of asking the cops to come and supervise. then he got a bit of a grin on his face, and asked “she sure was a cutie though, wasn’t she?”
i might have rolled my eyes if i hadn’t been reflecting on my own past crappy relationships, the ones that lasted way longer than they should’ve.
“you know,” i told him honestly, “i never really met her except when she was freaking out and banging on your door and windows in the middle of the night, so… no, i can’t really say that i found her very cute.”
at that, he nodded, and told me that he still has staples in his head from when she attacked him a couple weeks ago. he seemed so burdened and sad, which is probably why i was okay with us hugging before i got on my bike and zipped away: i don’t normally hug a lot of folks, particularly unfamiliar men, but this dude was just so fuckin’ vulnerable.
so yeah, i trust him: i want to have faith.
the rest of the co-op plan is moving along nicely: from the letter i wrote to the tenants of other 6 apartments in the building, i heard back from two neighbours who are keen to get more info. add that to the one tenant i’d talked with before sending out the letter, and that makes five of us (b, my partner and roommate, is also on board… duh). not coincidentally, we are the tenants with pets: there are four dogs and two cats between us, and all of us are worried about finding new homes that allow our daemons*.
an organizer with roots and roofs housing co-op has agreed to meet with us during the weekend of march 1-2, so i just need to talk with everyone and find a time that works for us all.
beyond that, i was talking with my excellent insider, the landscaper who’s been hired by my landlords: they told him they want to focus on selling another one of their properties before ours. also, they mentioned some building maintenance that needs to be done to our place, and also asked him to use a chainsaw on all the overhanging branches above the driveway, a task that requires dry weather. hooray for spring rains, postponing changes at my house!
in the meantime, b and i have painted our bathroom a yummy shade of avocado. it makes me very happy.
*go and see the golden compass. or read the book(s). do it!
[photo: i took this outside my office two mornings ago and sent it off to family in other parts of the continent. they are all jealous.]
