Clark
I am a completely different person; (& I know this sounds insane)
Notably, it's because of Clark - the rue-cum-man of the hour at the moment in my life. (Figurative men are the best kind)
Laying together long nights listening to the random cyclists along bike path outside our window, or spending sunny mornings sitting on the back gallerie with espresso to lips, a book in hand and clothing on the line in the breeze, or eating epic, friend-filed breakfasts, brunches, lunches, mid-afternoon salads and bbq dinners consecutively since moving in, Clark has been, quite frankly, the best thing a not-really-working gal could want for the summer.
And I am ever, ever so grateful that our time has also been peppered with people - mostly winnipeggers mind you - who have dropped in at random, rejuvenating this change, nodding me on, reminding. My lady love was here, followed by my mother, my cousin and a friend. Everyone partied with the best of them, but props to momma for not giving into the peer pressure to smoke up at our "goodbye H2L guido party" or disowning me for dressing like a dirty jersey shore knockoff.
H2L is like another life when I think about it now, which is crazy because it was my life for three years. But it's done. It's over. We've moved on, and some of us even have poke-and-stick tattoos to remind us of our postal code.
Dancing until the sun was up on the front balcon and taking in the Molson sign, the clouds in the sky, and how the light hit our supple, swaying bodies, it was the last morning on that balcony with the cars going by and the elders in rocking chairs. It was the last look at the Jaques Cartier in the morning, (an old roommates voice in the back of my mind: "if you hate it here you can see your way out") or the CBC star at night, lighting my way home from wherever I was on the mountain.
It was a great last everything. Salut Maisonneuve, merci beaucoup for being, literally, my new home...
----
And later, when everything was built and pret, "this is the best it’s ever been," she said on my bed with a frame.
I don't know about that last bit, actually. Maybe the best in Montreal so far, but maybe it's too soon? How can you organize experience hierarchically? Everything is different now, and it feels good, but better? To be continued... (and new apt pictures to come!)
----
Lawrence
Notably, it's because of Clark - the rue-cum-man of the hour at the moment in my life. (Figurative men are the best kind)
Laying together long nights listening to the random cyclists along bike path outside our window, or spending sunny mornings sitting on the back gallerie with espresso to lips, a book in hand and clothing on the line in the breeze, or eating epic, friend-filed breakfasts, brunches, lunches, mid-afternoon salads and bbq dinners consecutively since moving in, Clark has been, quite frankly, the best thing a not-really-working gal could want for the summer.
And I am ever, ever so grateful that our time has also been peppered with people - mostly winnipeggers mind you - who have dropped in at random, rejuvenating this change, nodding me on, reminding. My lady love was here, followed by my mother, my cousin and a friend. Everyone partied with the best of them, but props to momma for not giving into the peer pressure to smoke up at our "goodbye H2L guido party" or disowning me for dressing like a dirty jersey shore knockoff.
H2L is like another life when I think about it now, which is crazy because it was my life for three years. But it's done. It's over. We've moved on, and some of us even have poke-and-stick tattoos to remind us of our postal code.
Dancing until the sun was up on the front balcon and taking in the Molson sign, the clouds in the sky, and how the light hit our supple, swaying bodies, it was the last morning on that balcony with the cars going by and the elders in rocking chairs. It was the last look at the Jaques Cartier in the morning, (an old roommates voice in the back of my mind: "if you hate it here you can see your way out") or the CBC star at night, lighting my way home from wherever I was on the mountain.
It was a great last everything. Salut Maisonneuve, merci beaucoup for being, literally, my new home...
----
And later, when everything was built and pret, "this is the best it’s ever been," she said on my bed with a frame.
I don't know about that last bit, actually. Maybe the best in Montreal so far, but maybe it's too soon? How can you organize experience hierarchically? Everything is different now, and it feels good, but better? To be continued... (and new apt pictures to come!)
----
Lawrence
posted by Loco at
1:59 PM
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