I needed that...

My body still doesn't feel quite right, but hot damn did I need that walk. I just spent the last 4 hours wandering through the residential streets between here and the corner of Mount Royal and de Lormier, with a long pit stop at the Tim's on Mount Royal, somewhere around Mount Royal and Papineau.

I left my apartment fully prepared for anything. I had the essentials: wallet, 2 pens, keys, and mp3 player. I also had the backup provisions, held in my Crumpler bag, which included: a marble notebook, Pocket PC, wireless keyboard, bottle of water, Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto, The Dream Cycle of H.P. Lovecraft, A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein, Snow by Maxence Fermine, and The Collected Poems of Octavio Paz. I purposefully left my camera at home. I wanted only words and music on this trip.

The music that accompianied the trip was (in chronological order): Jet, Anthony Hamilton, Colin Hay, Michael Buble, James Blunt, Norah Jones, and Spacehog.

I walked at a slow, but steady pace around mostly residential streets. I wanted to avoid the people and the noise of more crowded areas in order to get in my head some more, and also so I'd be able to sing freely without bothering anyone. (I did catch one woman across the street from me (very close to A&C's place) who could hear me singing and was smiling at me. Don't know if she was laughing at me, or enjoying my singing, or if she just happened to be a Norah Jones fan.)

Right from the start, I knew that this walk was going to be a good one. I was only a few blocks away from my apartment and I had already pulled out my notebook and written a page of stuff (which I may or may not post later.) It was a very "in my head" time, so it's not very easy (nor interesting) to write about, but I should mention one bit of amusement.

On the way back (aka winding my way vaguely southwest,) I kept crossing paths with a guy who was out for a photowalk. Nothing extrordinary about him, he was just a black guy in jeans and a track jacket who was wandering around with his camera. I have a feeling, based on where he was stopping and what he was shooting, that he was an amateur, but eager to learn. It was just amusing because he would stop for a while, frame his shot and take it. I would stop in random spots and jot down thoughts, ideas, or whatever. He would wander on ahead, maybe disappear for a moment, then pop up again as I passed by and the cycle repeated itself. We kept crossing paths over and over. It was a cool little nighttime dance of artists.

A haiku of the night:
Moving away, I
Take stock and sort through hearts
Which to keep, or leave?

Yeah, that's all I got right now. Mike out.