I've recently made scrabble moves, dance moves and moves from point a to point b (and c, d, e).
Scrabble is a series of careful decisions. I chose "Pi".
Dancing is a series of thoughtless actions. My feet choose for me; they do not always choose grace or dignity.
Moves from point a to b are difficult, particularly with the use of 50 cent pay-phones, more so when you do not know the neighbourhood you're in. You get crafty. I went into a Chapters and quickly found the travel section to plan my route. A subway ride later, then following much misguided direction and forfeiting to a gypsy-cab-co-esque taxi, I made it to the door I was to enter. Ascending one simple set of stairs can be a daunting task when you do not know the apartment call number to get you through a door, when you don't have a cellphone to find out, and when you don't know what to dial even if you did. I found myself in front of that very task. First, I walked out of the building to see if I could spot a room to throw stones at. I can't throw curve balls so I decided to try my luck guessing apartments. Numbers 1-14. I had an inkling it was 13. The building must have a suspicious landlord because these numbers jumped from 12-14. I tried 12. That was it. I was meant to get into that apartment. The evening that followed was too good to tell*. Good in that sad way, and good in that way that I just can't quite put into words yet because I can't quite understand it.
Eventually, after a short weekend that lasted forever, I brought myself home to to dream of puppy love. His name is Freddie and my mom brought him to Oakville yesterday. He is about the size of a shoe, soot-black, and really freakin' cute. One day soon I'll swing back into movement and meet this little mutt.
* I think I unconsciously took this from Kerouac, but inverted it's meaning. Apps?
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