Well - it's been something.
For the past month, I have been in Ottawa exclusively as a 'ringer'
to help my dad during the tumult of tax season. In that time, I
worked some serious 13-14 hour shifts, gave up luxuries like 'the
weekend', spent a lot of nights watching old Bruce Campbell movies
with my Campbell-obsessed brother, had a few pints on Elgin st,
met with some good friends, spent some time with the family, played
a little folk show at the Avant Garde while drinking Russian beer and
pounded out some serious T1 action. All in all, it's been a full month.
Heading back to Port Hope, I'll have to remind myself that we are
all nomads - never truly here nor there. Towns and cities are a
figment - a partial view of a whole piece that is missing from our
psyche. I believe that the concept of 'home' is not one that has to
do with geography - but one that is deeply rooted within our hearts
and souls. When you are truly 'home', you'll know.
Yeah, I've done stupid things. I've made mistakes. I've tread where
boys dare not with courage - but I've also stood by in fear and done
'bad' when the 'good' has stared me down. As I pluck out this post
on my parents clunky PC computer, staring out the window into
their well-hedged backyard, I realize that life is a series of
fuck-ups - and that if there is one thing that I'm very certain of -
it's that most of the time, I have no sweet fucking clue what I'm
doing. Anyone who says they know what they're doing is, in my
mind, a pretender.
So long, capital city.
Go home, now. Everyone.
