It really is the cutest, oddest sensation, exploring the outskirts of a new city: the streets with funny narrow houses above a steep narrow river, the endless crescent apartment building full of people I have absolutely never spoken to, any of them ... The random tiny cafe bars, bakeries, pet food stores, crammed into the niches, neat little gym parks and jogging trails... I am slightly disappointed in how filthy the river is, full of rotting bikes and shopping cars and disposed of pieces of furniture, tires or garbage bags, but supposedly they clean it out once a year. Pity. it would be a lovely river otherwise. I wonder how far down I could follow it?....

I was asked to take the books back to the library, heavy pointy little bastards poking me in the hip, and I can tell you now how awfully cool one feels when checking out their own books and finding them well-worn and read :D It's like hearing your poem sung by a street performer, or seeing your art stolen to promote some famous establishment. So cool.

Was a moment away from wondering whether to sign back into Facebook on my old account, which I've failed to eradicate, and I will need it to get my subscriber count above thirteen, (and I CBA creating a whole new fan base anew with Artsy), when spam informed me one of my besties has posted a pic and as I click on it, voila! I am back in my old, disavowed account like nothing happened.... Shitty shitty fucking creepy little stalking shit.

Like I'm in a fucking cult.