Settling down for winter.

Powdered sugar snow.

Warm hands.

Falling madly in love with your record collection, when at first I thought it was you. It's less complicated this way.

Besides, no one could live up to those stacks.

Daydreams with amazing soundtracks.

Headphones as earmuffs.

Marshy law.

Ducks don't often talk about the mundane minutiae of their days with each other, I'm fairly certain they discuss the great questions of life. The Why's of the wise.

When the mundane of the city is replaced by the repose of the remote, we all become philosophers.

Soul.

I love it when a song makes you feel so good, your heart hurts.

That's the ache that makes being alive worth every sullen moment.

Misbehavin'

Your children are brats. They are walking all over you. This is your fault, and our patience is wearing thin.

Care to know the psychological effects of spanking in my own personal experience? Good behaviour and consistently happy and enjoyable family outings. Full stop. Spankings are not beatings. One swat on the bottom is a spanking. Somewhere out there on a slippery slope, a small, whiny special interest group has turned otherwise rational people into spies who call child welfare if they witness a bratty half pint being disciplined by their own parents. I challenge you to reason with a 4 year old- it is like reasoning with a stick. If I acted out while on an outing- guess what? The outing was over. Lesson learned.

Now, back to you, ma'am. Just because mommy needs a new blouse, doesn't mean the rest of the world should be subjected to the screeching and flailing and awfulness of your progeny because of YOUR poor parenting skills.

There are so many good kids out there that I meet every day (and great, patient parents). And well-behaved kids. And no, I realize this is not the library in an adults only complex. Kids will be kids, but your kids are giving kids a bad name.

Actions vs. Words

Thought: If you have a problem with it, perhaps you should march your manicured nails down there and volunteer your oh-so-valuable time, instead of standing on a soapbox ranting about how deplorable the situation is. Help. For fuck's sake. Stand there for yourself, elbow deep in hurt every day, and see just how little there is that you can do. Too much? Start something better. You clearly have a vision, and enough free time. Your lifestyle would suggest financial backing as well.

There is nothing more pathetic than words that don't carry any weight. Come on, humanity- rise above it.

Dear internet-

It's a lot harder to say what you want to when you're anonymous. I thought there would be some kind of freedom in it, but how we feel is so entirely wrapped up in who we are that I'm finding this exercise more difficult, and less liberating than I thought it would be. I suppose my desire for anonymity has always been accompanied by the need for silence. I will keep trying, though.

In other "reflections on the day" news....Sometimes I really enjoy taking the bus- no, really. Travelling with strangers can occasionally be a redeeming experience. For instance, tonight I shared a relatively empty bus with two Japanese kids, acoustic guitars slung across their laps, dressed in full 80's leather-metal regalia (one even had a gauntlet- A BONAFIDE ROB HALFORD GAUNTLET!). Though I don't think they spoke much English, at one point their conversation was punctuated with "LOCK AND LOLL!" complete with fist pumps. It made me want to buy them a beeru, and see what Japanese acoustic hair metal sounded like.

Though sometimes it's hard to wipe all the dirt away, even the shittiest cities have warm, bright spots that can make you feel a little more human.

With love,

The Ghost Hare.

Shostakovich is on the radio.

I'm imagining myself wearing an ushanka, thick coat, and worn boots, trudging through the Caucasus with a rifle slung over my shoulder.

Or maybe it's pre-revolution, with Romanoff-ian furs, woollen blankets and horse-drawn sleighs.

Either way, it sounds like Russia. All the same slow snow, black humour, hardened grandeur tempered with sadness.

I don't know why I started with what seems to be free-form prosetry- my sincerest apologies. It makes me feel like I'm 17 again.

This morning has been fraught with awkwardness, and anxiety, in spite of the sunshine. I'm trying to revive my optimism, but if I had the choice, I'd pull my head under the covers and opt out of today. And no, I don't want to get into a choice/ free will rant. Baby steps.

My desk is so cluttered I can't see the formica for the trees. On the to do list.

With love,

The Ghost Hare.

Sunshine

Ice forming on the river.

Not yet solid.

Taxicabs that smell like bubblegum.


The sky was so huge this morning it made me feel invincible, and light.

First.

To renew/ to new beginnings.

To breath ringed with snow.

To trudge on with cold paws, lukewarm tea, and a heart filled with curiosity.

And change.

It is going to start here.

More to come, but until then tread softly and mind your way.

With love,

The Ghost Hare.