Fading angster ❙ hiver, solstice

Okay this one is short I swear.
I'm here before the clock strikes twelve.
I feel joy, for it is the winter solstice, and I haven't blogged at night in such a long time!

Mon arbre favoris; ma stabilité naturelle

Segue equivocation into Grammatical commentary

Oh hey, I think it's another one of those "it doesn't matter what you write as long as you write" kind of posts, so I better watch out how I'm going to format this one lest someone try to infer some deeper meaning from the stylistic choices that I make about how I write and present said writing.

I'm in a slowed-down reality because although I'm pretty much doing some freewriting/free-journaling again, it won't purely be this method because I'm using pen and paper first and then transcribing onto the screen. Thus my idea-to-writ time has changed.
I type much faster than I write and that's a double-edged sword because, generally speaking, this difference in speed enables me to publish a lot of junkspeedily-typed things out there - sometimes even imaginary words - and it also enables me to be far more efficient, if not prolific.

Un des chats qui m'apporte un support moral sans équivoque avec ma vie d'écrivain non-payé

Words, clouds, lists, material

I learned a technique a few years ago. It's not a particularly secret or innovative mode of behaviour, but because it was explicitly taught to me by a group facilitator and our collective temporally-conscious inputs as group members at one of the many support groups I've attended in the Big Smoke, it holds a special place in my hippocampus (or wherever it is that long-term memories are stored; I know and remember that it's not Broca's area).

Anyway all you need is a 1 pen, 2 paper, 3 the capacity to write lines & words, and 4 a meticulous, obsessive, goal-driven personality that constantly bombasts you with curious ideas that seldom mesh together except in the nether realm, like a series of bad staccato notes slightly off-tune from one another, written on the walls of an empty, desolate, and capitalistically barren grand piano ballroom - think a mix of Mr. Kalorium's Lonely Western Shoppe and a dusty composer's den. That or an automaton who can do it for you.

If you meet only 3/4 requirements for the technique, that's okay: you might get some benefit out of it just the same, but beyond the 50% and I make zero claims as to the efficacy of this technique for countering boredom and the growing unease at the lack of balance between your ego and your id.

You make lists.
It doesn't matter when.
This is a list.
But it's a faiku.
And then you cross off things that are done.
Again it doesn't matter when but convention seems to indicate that it's a good idea to cross something off at the end of the day, or, if you're feeling bold & disorganized like I sometimes just am, at the end of the week, fortnight, month, and - do I dare dream - the end of the year.

Anyway that's the technique that I claim as my own to make me feel like I accomplished something during some of my downspiral, Laura days. Remember her, reader?

Drawing art seems to help, too, just don't go submitting your *ahem* early works to OCAD anytime soon or else I might have some competition for my loosely abstract representation of what it's like to be a materialist obsessed with sounding cool in english. Or like, whatever, man.

Sharpie on construction paper

Happy chair-tonique: Partie un + deux + trois

Why does no one in the city care about health?

Partie 1 - Friday the last of November


Aside from the fact that Hayley sings to "stop asking why" and the fact that some of my voices are making it incredibly difficult to focus, I think it's completely bonkers that adults who care about their mind & body get completely shafted by corporations. I'll give you three examples. Pardon the grammar - as usual, what.

If I want to practice yoga in a clean (read: free from cat dandruff), fresh, and safe studio, I have to pay upwards of $12 for simply doing my thing and I can't bring my own food because it tends to smell too offensive to the vegan + vegetarian crowd that, last I checked, was a majority in these places. And I think wool is an awesome material.

If I want to meet new people at cool hangout spots, they all sell overpriced junk like beer, grain-based foods (too much popcorn, man...), and otherwise high-carb frankenfoods that usually cause long-term dysfunction in the brain.

If I want to play a new sport, even the community centres cost me too much: there used to be drop-in programs that were free. The only cost was your time spent enjoying community, team-based games, and if the government employees didn't set up the space, it was not a problem to set it up yourself - as long as you cleaned up after so that the the next eager facility users wouldn't grumble.

I know! I need decent, enjoyable, good-stress work in Toronto. The problem is I spend(t) my money on stupidly overpriced things like the aforementioned junk foods and - let's be honest - stupidly overpriced marijuana and vaporizers (and their accessories) last time I had a job and I'm desperately trying to save to lead a less stressful life - in the future, whatever that is.

I love gaming. Why is no one (read: my empty social life) into the same things I'm into like card games without lattes, or tabletop games without acohol, or even PC games without lonely individual booths? More importantly (for many of you), why is all the food at 90% of the Toronto & bar buildings just NOT good for me (and consequently, you)? Why does no one care about their health just like I do? It just ain't right, and no one believes in the power of food to heal as opposed to sustain or harm. It's sickening that it's so hard to find a place to enjoy my favourite hobbies with others who are also part of the human family (and personal social fabric).

-Part one is drawing to a close-