Been thinking more and more about living on an island. What the hell, eh? Me, who couldn't imagine not living in Toronto up 'til a few months ago... I think it all started when I read "Griffin and Sabine" again. It's a neat book, in letter and postcard form, about two "mystically connected" people, one in London and one on an island, somewhere warm. It made me really want to get away from this.
Last night, Mum and I watched a show on Cinquaterra, a small area of southern Italy made up of (guess how many?) five towns. I wanted to live there. SOOOOOO badly. No cars. No mo-peds. No subways. Just narrow little medieval streets and alleys, overlooking the ocean, all barely hanging onto a cliff-face. Beautiful. I wanted to be there, not here.
Seriously thinking of taking off, maybe next year, the year after, going to Europe for a while. Living in Italy. Anything to not be here.
Readin' "Soul Music," "Erewhon"
Listenin' to computers humming
Thinkin' about going to the bathroom?
Most recently I was 
