saturday night's

alright for fighting the urge to go out just for the sake of going out.

and sunday morning's perfect for waking long before the bleary-eyed club kids, and soldiering out for coffee and a clear mind to start the day. it's a long weekend - the last long weekend of summer - or the first long weekend of fall - depending on your level of optimism. personally, i've always seen september as this magical pause between the two seasons. sure the light is autumnal, but the temperature often soars to dizzying heights, which brings back tinges of the sultry, silly of summer evenings, wasted away in wasted splendor.

and speaking of wasted splendor, as i walked back from the coffee shop this morning i noticed a guy, in his early twenties, sitting on the sidewalk. he was definitely dressed for a night out on the town that had long since disappeared into the bright and unforgiving light of day. he gazed around woozily, as if trying to get his bearings, to piece together the hazy sequence of events that brought him to this spot... 'booze clues', as a friend once beautifully put it.

that he actually had to pause and take a little time out from his walk of shame struck me as half pathetic half delightful. i remembered the days of looking forward to friday and saturday nights, if only to get obliterated. which at the time, was a good time. but the funny thing when you live only for the party, is those next mornings. when you sit up groggily in bed (or on the curb, as the case may be) you have the strongest sense that everyone else has somewhere to go and something to do, and there you are, with nothing but a feeling of being left behind.

of course, you don't realize this at the time. after all, you've got youth on your side, which makes sketchy slips and dignity-dips seem kind of cute. but as you get older- even just a little bit older - anything too lurid just seems a bit passé. now this is not to say that i don't have my fair share of ridiculous, but these days, i know when to stop...most of the time. and even when i don't, well, i've got places to go and things to do in the morning, so i can't plunk myself on the curb and reconstruct the events of previous messy evenings - instead i toddle to the office and let others fill in the blanks for me.

which is so much more grown-up, wouldn't you agree?

tuesday's gone.

and so is most of august. and as summer tapers off into the leafy loveliness of autumn, i try to recall what has been a whirlwind of a season. which, of course, sounds like a phrase from a regency romance - all masquerade balls and strolls through manicured gardens and flushed frivolity. the whirlwind here really only refers to the speed. the speed of days turning into nights, nights into new mornings and months collapsing into each other like tired lawn chairs.

this summer has been the fastest yet. possibly because there was more drizzle than sizzle - the rain rain wouldn't go away and then had the nerve to come again another day - and another and another, until the summer slid into a sloppy, soppy mess.

and while it might have dampened my shoes, it certainly didn't touch my spirits - yes, i'm still chipper and un-hipper than ever before. after all, it's been a bizarre yet wonderful little chapter. and i am the wiser for it all.

now, how much more randomness can fall possibly bring?

a truckload i'm sure.

i can't wait.

the early bird.

gets the what, the worm? or just the glimpse at a morning that others have yet to glimpse - awash in pinks and greys - seemingly lit from within?

yes, i think that is all the early bird really gets. and along with it, a sense of calm. the condos that surround her - that were hopping and bopping till 3 am - are now mercifully silent. the drunken squawks of homeward bound yuppies have faded away, the labored disco beats of the rooftop party have beaten themselves to death, and the wailing sirens have sung themselves into a deep, deep sleep.

and for once, not a peep from the vast construction site that occupies a gaping city block across the way. gone are the typical wake up calls of yore - the cocking crow, the ringing bell - replaced with the urban alarm clock of clanking and cranes and building up, up and away with your view.

it is 6:45 am and the world is semi-quiet, cautious almost - like the day ahead is dipping its toe into the pool of the unknown, and hasn't quite decided to go for it. and of course, it will eventually throw itself headfirst into the sun-drenched splendor of sunday - but for now, for now - i enjoy the beauty of its hesitation.

another sunday.

another rainy day. well, perhaps that's a bit of an unfair dismissal. it was a rainy day, but has since blossomed into an overcast evening. what a delight this summer has been! last night was particularly pleasant - ice-cold, saucer-sized drops splattered onto sidewalks and up my bare legs as i staggered down a sidewalk masquerading as a giant puddle.

for some reason, we decided it was a perfect evening to venture out for dinner, and as we crowded under a crappy little umbrella from walgreens, all i could do was laugh - there was absolutely no way we were escaping with even an inch of dry. i gave in and got soggy. at least the food and company were grand. by the end of the meal, i'd forgotten about my sopping shoes, and suggested the three of us head onto a little bar that just opened down the street.

today it's been back to reading. this holiday i have successfully traded in meeting and greeting for reading and eating. already midway through book #6. i forgot how wonderful it is to lose yourself in a book, reading by dim lamp light well into the early hours of the next day. i was up till past 2 the other night finishing a gorgeous and funny book by joshua ferris, called "then we came to the end". nailed office life. nailed advertising. nailed the ache and bemused fear of cancer diagnosis. just a fantastic novel.

i am getting so used to not working, it will be strange to head back. and of course, when i do- well, it will be different. different because my perspective has changed a bit from this little mental vacation, and also because my perspective is about to change even more. can't wait - and yet, i am thoroughly enjoying this calm before the storm of ch-ch-changes and logistics and details and organizing and and and and and...

i better nap while i can.

funny how time slips away...

yes, i just threw down an al green song lyric (or song title, even) to start what promises to be a schmaltz-ridden homily on the passing of time, and how it just...well...goes. but never fear, i shan't discard you into that particular lost & un-profound. instead i'll simply say this: time is something i don't have too much of. at least, not in this current situation. which just makes it more precious really.

so beyond the gigantic to do list, what is to be done?

enjoy people. things. places. faces. stasis, all that's put me through the paces here. because though i gripe, i also have had a rather delightful little ride through the past 10 years in this crazy little city. when i was 18, straight off the plane from moscow, i had no clue what was in store for me here. so many things have happened. since i have a to do list ahead of me, here's a little "have done" list. since i moved to toronto, i:

lived at 8 different addresses.
graduated & post-graduated college
gathered gads of useless knowledge
fell in love a few times.
fell on the pavement a few times.
fell into a career one time.
survived cancer.
realized i wasn't a good dancer
foolishly decided rhyming is always the answer...

consumed too many beers, food and
enough music to furnish eternity with a playlist.

and all the while, i've daydreamed myself out of this town.

well, looks like i am finally getting my chance. or rather, finally putting plans into action. the next month or so is going to be one bittersweet bonanza. i'm sharpening up my sense of nostalgia in preparation. shouldn't be much of a stretch for this sentimental hack.