The Bloody Doors Off

I have no idea what this post is about.

Just felt.

Compelled.

To open up a page and begin typing.

Aaaaaaand then I draw a blank.

Conducive.

I love our neighbourhood. Living next to the Distillery, I never get tired of walking through it on a near daily basis.

I miss the open stores. Can’t wait for Biltmore to open again. Love walking through their shop and finding vintage treasures. An ornate lock and key purchased there prompted the short play, First Watch. A tin angel inspired Snow Angels (wish I hadn’t given it away, but I couldn’t find room for it; oh I’m sure if I’d asked Marlo, we’d have found a spot. Sometimes I’m too impulsive for my own good.

We’ve bought fantastic bowls and plates. An old tobacco tin sits in the bathroom, collecting bibs and bobs until it fills and can be tossed into the garbage bin.

Soulpepper. God I miss in-person theatre. I think the last thing I saw there was The Secret Chord: A Leonard Cohen Experience. (Look for it on Spotify; it’s great stuff.)

Taking Auggie to Sniffany & Co. for dog treats.

Enjoying the atmosphere (and chocolate milkshakes) of Cacao 70.

The back patio at Mill Street Brewery, where the cast and crew of The Promised Land celebrated our Hamilton Fringe run.

And, despite the constant headaches it generates, the Christmas Market. Because of that ginormous tree, the twinkling lights at night.

I miss visiting friends at Proof Gallery.

The pandemic shut the whole system down..

And I’m tired.

So.

Fucking.

Tired.

There are certain things COVID inspired that should stay. Remote working, online theatre (I’d need to count how many of my plays were picked by theatre companies or festivals. Seven, within the last 12 months.)

But I need to sit in a cold movie house with my drink and a hot dog, watching The Black Widow.

I need the weekly trek to the comic book store, even if I’m only collecting 2-4 titles total now. (And I’ve got a shit ton still to read; you’d think, given all this time on my hands, I could’ve fit in some light reading.)

I need.

Something to occupy my time.

Oh, that’s what this is about.

I’ve got recurring customers. I’m on contract with two at the moment, with a third possibly starting at the end of the month. One of my clients today asked me to take on more graphic design responsibility, which I’m happy to do.

But, up until now, because my simply saying this will surely cause fate to laugh and say “You asked to be busy!”, I’ll get slammed and the problem will resolve itself.

But.

If it doesn’t.

I can’t sit in front of the computer all day, watching mindless television. (Shhhh, Marlo.)

I need mental stimulation.

Not that working alongside Marlo doesn’t supply that. She does. But I need.

Variety?

Gods, that sounds stupid.

Like I’m cheating on my wife.

Even writing that felt.

Foreign. Wrong.

Let’s see if I can explain.

No, it’d take too long.

Lemme sum up.

I miss people. Sometimes it feels like we’re on a deserted island, cut off from people, but we have a coconut tied to a verrrrrrrry long string to another coconut on a separate island. As much as you’re happy to hear their voice, you kinda hate the fact you can’t reach out and touch them.

With their consent, of course.

Guh. This is getting sexual.

I better stop now.