Friday, February 1, 2013


i had a moment the other week, though.

for some reason, i woke up with the memory of moist's most excellent old song "machine punch through" in my head, and i started putting that song on a repeated loop. that day at work, i listened to the entirety of moist's silver, and then creature, and then our lady peace's naveed, and i closed my eyes at my desk. all i could think of is listening to those albums when i was a teenager, dreaming of something more - something bigger, something meaningful that would make me happy - then i opened my eyes, and saw how far i'd come.

as soon as i was finished with the music, i escaped outside into the winter cold for a cigarette, and my hands were shaking as i lit it.

i felt derailed.

because i remember boston and new york, connecticut and pennsylvania, montreal and ottawa, chicago and kansas city, kingston, sudbury, quebec city, albuquerque, tucson, flagstaff, vegas, vancouver, everywhere and back again to toronto, my eventual home. i remembered how i found where i belonged, but how i couldn't stay. i remembered them, and how no matter how far away the memories get or how much it all becomes just sounds in my ears, i can still bring it all back in a beat of my weary heart.

i am almost thirty years old.

and i thought about the vow i'd made, how someday i would be someone, how they would know my name. i thought about how far i'd gone, and how i wished i could have gone further, but even now i know i probably wouldn't have survived it. i thought about the concern on my friends' faces and in the voices of my parents when they all ask me if i worry about the impact any of this has had on my psyche, but the only thing i can do is shrug and reply that this is the life i've chosen, and that this is what i know. this is more or less the only thing i know.

somehow i didn't realize how far down the rabbit hole i'd end up going, and how, in the end, i wouldn't change a thing.

[ music | none ]