2004-01-27..12:51 p.m.

I�ll write a proper on later, when my brain is less like plum pudding. In any case, these really are the things my sleepy mind took far too long dwelling upon this morning. What that says about me I don�t really know, nor do I think I really want to come to that..

I used to think mothballs solely occupied the outer edges of Toronto�s Spadina Chinatown, or the inner reaches of the closet to Narnia until this morning when I was nearly gassed unconscious by the Mother of all mothballs. Did the neighbourhood OAP posse suddenly decide to prepare for the spring at the same time? Was there a sale on down at Poundland? Or did several shipments of them �fall off the back of a truck� in the middle of Perth Rd? It was terrifying. I felt like I was in a bad world war I flashback. I couldn�t see. I couldn�t breathe. You could practically hear the shrieks of small children pounding up the road, The Mothballs are coming, the Mothballs are coming! a la redcoats and headless horsemen.

Speaking of potential invasions, there's this fat kid i pass on the way to work every morning, and when i say fat, i mean British-fry-up every morning of his little life followed by two chip butte's for afters and a gallon of double cream FAT. Picture how a toddler looks as it's learning to walk - not yet sure of its weight, and so even though it moved forwards, its legs splay off to the side as though they have entirely different ideas of where this kid is going, that sort of thing � only as an seventeen year old kid wearing a beanie (actually NOT a toque, but a beanie..) and practising gangsta style glowers and YO WESTSIDE hand gestures at empty car windows. He moves like a slow train wreck, and while entirely repulsive, I just can�t not watch him. I end up wondering if he�s ever going to find some poor skinny girl who�ll fake her orgasms while he whales down on her, and expecting to find him one morning slowbarrelling it down the street hand-in-hand w someone of equal size and girth. Look out world if he ever multiplies.

There�s something deliciously Look at me, I�m living in a movie about hurrying down the street half-eaten piece of toast in hand like you�ve got somewhere really important to be, but still couldn�t be arsed to get out of bed on time. Possibly bc there�s someone IN the bed who wouldn�t take no for an answer. Or bc latenight soiree�s are an everyday affair. Sadly attempting to use an washed out Cadbury�s No Fat Chocolate Mint Drinking Chocolate jar as a travel mug rubs some of the shine. Which is another thing: you CANNOT get travel mug�s in this country. Giant faux-chrome walking-holiday thermoses, yes; gal about town travel mugs, no. Fastest town in Britain and no concessions made for the late for work caffeine addict, I ask you.

Sunshine is disconcerting. I�ve spent the past three months in pools of yellowed halogen light and the glare of pollution. To suddenly have to start walking to work with the sun peeping over the rooftops seems wrong, like I just walked in on a brother-in-law showering. I think it�s because I�m used to the sun being a sort of weekend treat, like chocolate and wheat.

I can�t take people Darling-ing me when I�m still not sure I managed to wash out all the gunk from my eyes. Particularly when they�re strangers and all I offered was a cursory smile. I don�t care if you have been up since 4, leave me the fuck alone! Fucking greencoated grocery boy.

It�s taken me FOUR HOURS to write this.

Now half2. So yeah, the dude has arrived at long fucking last. He got in too late last night to crash at mine, which means I�ve got to meet him after work and lug luggage (is that why �luggage� is called �luggage�? bc you �lug� it? The same way you have �usage� or �foppage� as the noun forms of �to use� and �to fop� � I know technically �fop� isn�t an actual verb, but I enjoy creative verbing whenever possible, which naturally translates into creative nounage) all the way to the pad. Blarg. Ah well, at least he�s a boy and can carry it (dainty wee things like my girlie self couldn�t possibly be called upon for such rigorous efforts..) He called me all sleepy voiced and dishevelled sometime around 11. Mmmmm. Quite in keeping w my contrariness, the fact he didn�t stay last night has made me all the more attracted to him. It would have been too easy. Do like a challenge. Feeling v full after lunch. Rather wish I could sneak away for a sneaky cig now instead of waiting. Bother.

smoked deprived, meep