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runswithscissors


Thursday, August 09, 2007

Woke up yesterday morning during the wee hours to the sound of rain drumming on the roof. Outside: gray skies, mist cloaking green hillsides -- Vermont looking primeval.

A drive north to Montreal was on deck, yours truly fleeing the States for three days and nights of wholesome fun. I'd avoided packing bags the night before, leaving me no option but to drag adorable ass out of bed and stuff clothing into wheeled duffel as I gradually came to, gray, weak daylight gathering outside. Surprised myself by working efficiently, surprised myself more by getting underway on schedule. Spent the morning in Montpelier (caffeine infusion, gym, errands) where gray clouds gave way to hazy blue sky, humidity high, air soft. And found myself on the interstate -- on schedule once more -- miles slipping past, green mountains looming.

Had expected a more difficult experience crossing into Canada than in years past, given all the talk there's been about intensifying border control. And traffic in the other direction was lined up like I'd never seen it before, lanes of vehicles stretching away from the customs booths and well into Canadian territory. Canadian customs slowly came into view, I saw... nothing, essentially. The customs version of ease and tranquility. Two lanes open for business, each with one car, mid-processing.

Pulled in as the car ahead moved out, no waiting. The customs agent took my license/passport, firing questions at me about my stay, voice softly accented. After a minute of that -- him looking at a computer screen as he quizzed me -- he handed me back my things, sent me on my way.

Quebec. Farms, grain silos, cornfields, the occasional house. Small villages appeared, disappeared, some featuring oversized roadside crucifixes. Reached Montreal in shockingly good time, arrived at the B&B early, dealt with changes of situation there (the room I'd been booked into had developed a water leak in the ceiling, they siphoned me off into a comfy, larger room; the downside: comfy, larger room is booked tonight, I'll have to move into the smaller room, which will by that time be, I hope, dry). Lucked into a parking space. Called friends, hooked into the B&B's wireless network. Headed out shortly before 5 to make the rush-hour slog to a friend's place.

Out on the main drag, a bus had paused to pick up passengers. My bus. The driver must have seen me coming, must have seen me accelerating my pace, must have seen the expression of hope on my face -- as I drew close, the doors closed, the bus pulled away from the curb, angling out into traffic and moving away. I watched it go, mentally giving a shrug. Rush hour, I figured -- another'll be along soon.

Half an hour of waiting later, bulging with people looking to get home after a long day, the next bus showed. I eeled my way inside, found a spot to stand, started reading. Around me, two or three people talked into cellphones, women in summer dresses looked casually lovely, passengers came and went with each new stop. Traffic surged, slowed, squeezed around clots of construction, pressed ahead. 45 minutes and one transfer later, I stood on T.'s front porchette, rapping at his door as swallows streaked overhead.

T. is someone I've had the pleasure of knowing for three or four years, via the internet at first through an online community of wackos, then in 3-D during my periodic trips north to enjoy this city. He's a person whose life is taking off -- I've spent time with the 3-D him on several occasions now, each time months after the last, and on every occasion he's looked better and better. The very first time I met him in person, he looked a big, friendly bear. Now he looks sleeker, more focussed. Life is bringing him fun along with increasing possibilities, and it shows.

[continued in next entry]

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Doorway, Montreal




Espaņa, te echo de menos.

rws 10:47 AM [+]

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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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