Disturbing the peace…
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Sunday is the most popular day to write songs about.
…for a grand total of seventeen songs.
Out of curiosity, I looked through my music for how many songs were composed about the rest of the week ->
…curious. Curious indeed.
I think this may stem from Sunday being the strangest day of the seven day week; somehow it manages to be serene, somewhat hopeful, and simultaneously drenched in nostalgia and melancholy. There’s a stillness to it that one can’t ever really escape, even in movement, and whether it’s the morning, afternoon, or evening part…it drags, pulls at your soul a little. I always dread their beginnings, and am always glad when Sundays come to an end.
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That time I went sailing…
In the past four months I’ve lost my keys three times.
I wonder if this means something.
The last time was a week ago, and on it was the key to my bike lock…the last copy.
Needless to say, I haven’t been able to adequately sleep for seven days.
Can’t stop listening to Good Morning Spider by Sparklehorse. Favourite song off the album? St. Mary. I’m dong that thing that I do of putting a song on loop, and have been slow dancing around to it in my apartment, heart yearning for something I’m not quite sure of yet. But something. Definitely something.
1. At 24 years old, after giving up on reading the instruction book, doing the online tests, and then writing the actual test in under 7 minutes…I finally got my G1 (a.k.a. the first step to getting your license; YAY).
2. Tomorrow I’m going sailing. Why? Because.
3. Tuesday I have a sword fighting rehearsal for an episode of a TV show… the fact that I have the greatest job on planet earth? Confirmed yet again.
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The internet tells me I’m stylish.
(Ps. Me to the left, lovely Miss Kendra Timmins to the the right)
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Mind is rebelling against any attempt to focus…it’s taken me nearly three hours to memorize three pages of dialogue.
The internet vortex.
I’ve watched an innumerable amount of videos of the cutest Korean baby alive, at least half a dozen cat videos (as well as other animals/reptiles of sorts), and spend far too much time in both the Huffington Post and NY Times arts sections. They’ve informed me of incredibly important news, such as the possibility of new Salinger books, that is was Man Ray’s birthday (*insert cultural pride * both Russian Jews…obviously means me n the Man would have been bffs) and the fact that George W. Bush is now painting cats. …yeah. Go figure.
Tomorrow marks the last day of night shoots, and I have a confession…I’ve missed day time.
I firmly still stand by the fact that afternoons are the worst - Sartre said it best, “Three o’clock. Three o’clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do” - but there’s something about that lazy, almost stupid time, when one can’t do much, that I sorely miss.
…I give myself a week back to normal life before I fully retract this statement.
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Disengaging from the regular routine of life is dangerously thrilling; some people have vacations…others (yours truly) have three weeks of night shoots, filming a slasher flick in a town outside of Toronto.
This has resulted in a couple of things:
a. I’ve successfully adopted the life of a vampire; the hours of 9am-3/4pm are virutally unknown to me, as I sleep through them.
b. Lack of a normal schedule means no one expects replies to phone calls, texts, or emails at a normal time, and that removal of responsibility is oddly freeing; being anti-social is suddenly made acceptable.
c. The anonymity one derives from being in a new place gives me a rush and a strange kind of adrenaline that the comfort and stability of home never does; confirmation that the gypsy life is the only life for me.
Books finished in the past week and a half: Tender is the Night and Man’s Search for Meaning. The first - utterly heartbreaking, something Fitzgerald does quite well. The second - makes one adore life, and bash your head against the wall for wasting/complaining about it. READ ‘EM.
Remember this song?…
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I don’t trust people without opinion - they’re dangerous.
They agree with whatever is presented, swayed to the side of whoever they are with at the moment…and a day later will be persuaded to the polar opposite by someone else; people who want to be liked are similar. Both are to be avoided at all costs.
The weather has been rather fall-esque the past couple of days, and it makes a feeling of nostalgia set in…Jackson Scott’s songs intensify this feeling (conveniently, my favourite song by him is [a variation of] my name).
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