things carried

Things in my extra carry bag (stenciled "Eat From Kingston's Countryside") this morning: one thermos cup of coffee with lid tightly secured, one peanut butter sandwich in a sandwich bag, one single-serving yoghurt, two overripe bananas (C won't eat them), one metal pencil holder, one cereal bar (sweet & salty), one old copy of Communication Arts (Illustration Annual 42), one copy of Surrealist Painting (soft cover, Phaidon).

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Things I've overheard this week, walking home from work:

Shaggy, snaggle-toothed man >> You like her. She's your buddy.

Middle-aged woman wearing a hoodie over a nightgown >> She's lucky I don't punch her in the neck.*

* I have to say, the phrase "punch in the neck" has gained considerably more currency in the last couple of years.

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Fell asleep on the couch last night with Oona on my chest. Total heat-seeking suckyfest. I think that was around 8:30. C says she came and 'rescued' her around 10:30. Then she had to come back for me around 12:30. All I remember is the suddenly strong smell of alcohol (bourbon? gin?). Repress, my friend. Repress.


  1. re: smell of alcohol--You are so bad. And you lie.


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