Coconut tea in the morning...

Last night I had one of the most interesting evenings that I have had in a very long time. I met with the film man again. But unfortunately that was very short lived. We had dinner, and during dinner he received a phone call which told him that he had somewhere else to be. I was home within an hour of leaving it. Not wanting to have the evening be a total loss, I walked to a small cafe that is a few blocks from my house.

 There was a man playing on a guitar. The audience was small, but it felt close and intimate in a way which I haven't felt in a long time; everyone was having such a good time, I couldn't resist. So with a glass of white wine, I sat alone at a table on the side and simply enjoyed. A few more glasses later and I was still enjoying myself when the music ended. It was a little disappointing. The musician who had been playing walked over to my table and offered to buy me another drink. Never one to say no to an attractive man, I accepted and he joined me. The next few hours went by as if in a dream; we laughed, we talked, we drank. A lot. He is one of the most interesting people I have met in a long time. He had had so many life experiences that I found irresistible to devour. I didn't want our encounter to end. So it didn't. Until the next morning.

As I sipped coconut tea and smiled at him over cantaloup, I was absolutely delighted. Not one to normally bring strange men back to my home, I felt that last night was separate from all other encounters I have ever had. It was sweet, yet lustful. There had been none of the intense awkwardness that I had been expecting. I felt intensely connected to the music man. He  sang to me as I fell asleep and ran his fingers along my back ever so slowly. I have never had a lover who was so caring without ever really knowing me. I think it would be best if I saw him again. It really was a night to remember.... 

Not without a fight....

I am feeling surprisingly better today. In health, in heart and overall optimism. Without fail, Bryce arrived at my house, without Daryl today, and the demolition continues. I have now taken it upon myself to sleep during the day and write at night. This is quickly becoming a far greater idea than I once thought. The silence of the night can be quite chilling, but I think the spookiness of my home helps to calm my wandering mind. It forces me to focus on the story of Adam and Anastasia with an intensity they slightly scares me. 

Their relationship is growing. And I am about to introduce his addiction to her. I don't think she is going to take it without a fight. But on the other hand, she does have the tendancies to simply take what he says and does without a second thought. Cocaine addiction is going to be his vice. From all of the research I have done, I felt it suited his personality the best. In the novel so far, he has not showed any symptoms of the drug around her, but tonight is the night. He will introduce it in a very appealing way to her. Her reaction really is the key as to how the rest of the novel will unfold. Will she join in with him? Or will she ignore the issue? Or will she kick him out? Well I can say not the latter because then the story would end far too soon. These questions will have to take a little more thought.

As for my own love life, I wish it was as simple. I have found myself feeling incredibly lonely for the past few days. I'm sure it was due to my being sick and having no one to take care of me. Well almost no one. Sadie dropped by yesterday with homemade soup. It was fantastic. But men, oh men. I don't think it is so much that I am feeling like I need a man in my life, more like I want a man in my life. The film man offers possibilities. I did in fact call him today. We are going out again this weekend. I thought I may as well give it one last go. 

I wonder what Bryce does on the weekend. I think I will ask him tomorrow....

A little cold won't stop me...

But having the flu sure will. I woke up this morning feeling like I had been pelted with copper dog biscuits for the past ten hours. Everything hurts. I blame it on the house. 

I had the luxury of laying in bed for the majority of the day. This afternoon, however, my peace was interupted briefly by a meeting with the film man. I had failed to get his number so I was unable to cancel. I barely pulled myself together enough to make it out the door. 

But make it I did, and I am not sure how I feel about the effort. He seemed pretty bored with the simple coffee house setting. He was constantly looking around and it made me feel quite ignored. He suggested going elsewhere, but I simply did not have the energy. Interestingly enough, once I made it apparent how ill I was, he didn't offer to postpone at another time. It kinda went down hill from there. My inability to speak was counteracted by his desire to talk enough for both of us. Clearly he has an issue with the state of our economics. For almost half an hour he went on and on about politics this and socialist that. Now under normal circumstances I would have joined in with enthusiasm at topics such as these. But a fever and chills are hardly what I would like to call a fun time. I have no idea how the whole thing played out on his part, but he did ask me for dinner on the weekend. I said I would call. It has yet to be decided as to whether that was a lie. I think it would be best to sleep for a few days and see how I am feeling about the whole thing. It needs a fresh perspective. 

I have discovered something very odd about Bryce. Today I quietly came down the stairs without him noticing. He was singing. It was a sweet song, a love song perhaps.  I went back up the stairs before he noticed me. That certainly is a new and intriguing side of him I have never seen before... 

A thought I would try a poem...

The room I sit in is alive

It breathes so slow and silent

If you smile, it stops.

Well I am certainly not the poet I thought I could be. I have decided that Anastasia is to be a writer of poems. I am trying to be abstract with her poetry, but I feel as though I have already failed before I have started. Poetry has become an area of writing that I have ignored for a very long time. My mother used to make up poems about me. So did Scott.

My house feels damp today. It is a very strange feeling. It is probably due to the cold outside. I feel as though my house, if it were a living thing, is sick. Something is not balanced the way it should be. I am going to make it my mission of the evening to find what is not right and fix it.....

a blissful weekend...

I find it very rare lately that I can look back on a weekend in its entirety and feel satisfied with what was accomplished. But this week, that very feeling was made possible. I shall start with Friday....

I had a date. Now I was very apprehensive about the whole thing because the last two weekends have had dreadful dates. But I decided to go with an open mind. And in the end I was very glad I did. The man was a maker of films. He was interesting, though a bit shy. He actually seemed to have things of importance to say. It was a breath of fresh air from the last two. But he did have this weird quirky habit that I thought was unusual. Perhaps it was a nervous thing, but every time I began talking, he would start rubbing his ear. Bizarre. But cute, so I will be seeing him again. Wednesday. For coffee.

Saturday was just nice. I spent the day doing only things that made me happy. Tea and breakfast alone, sitting by a window. A very long wander through the museum. Lunch was light and shared with Sadie. The rest of the day was spent curled in a blanket reading Shakespeare. I fell asleep in a most comfortable position and had a very comforting dream about my mother. 

Today is dedicated to the falling in love stage of Adam and Anastasia's relationship. I think it will be passionate and romantic. But only for a blink of an eye. He is clearly incapable of anything more.....

Time to get out....

I have decided. It is official. I am going to give this dating random strangers thing one more go. I have agreed to meet a man tomorrow night for dinner. After the last two disasters I am not really expecting much. He says he works in film, or writes, or a combination of the two. Could be interesting.  I was almost over the need for interaction with people I had never met before, but something is saying "Go Penny Go". I think perhaps it is the need to get out of my ever demolishing home. Or perhaps I need a break from the drama of Adam and Anastasia; they really can be a tiring couple. 

Tonight I sat down and stared a wall for an hour. It was a very interesting experience. I got comfortable, and just stared. The wall did not have very much going for it; the wallpaper is mostly gone and you can see the insides of it. I felt almost sorry for it, it was exposed for all to see. I don't think that people appreciate the inanimate objects around us as much as we should. They are constantly there, and we take it for granted. Tonight I appreciated the wall as I envisioned all that it could be one day. 

I really need to get out of the house....

I awoke very early....

This morning I awoke at a very early time and simply could not sleep. So naturally I wandered to the kitchen. I found myself staring at a peeling purple wall, eating a starfruit and feeling very unsettled. Nervous even. And I am not entirely sure why. I spent some time doing some self-analysis and came up with this....Purple reminds me of my childhood because I grew up in a room that was purple and my father loved starfruit. Perhaps all of the reminders of home have me on edge. There has been a lot of things about London that I have been avoiding like the plague. Namely anything that reminds me of Scott....

If you know me well, you might say that I fled London. With enthusiasm. Scott was a disaster and to be frank, I don't think I am quite ready to start facing that just yet. It is just too hard. I find it much more simple to hide behind my words and let Adam and Anastasia duke it out on paper. And I have decided that they will. After hours and hours of watching a serious on dealing with addictions, Adam would in fact be physical with Anastasia. That fact has disturbed me greatly, but if it is to be believable then it must be.

My house is a mess, my emotional state is a disaster, my novel is moving slowly, but I think I am beginning to make headway with Bryce....

Something for thought....

I have been spending a long time in thought tonight. Deep in thought. I have been thinking about Anastasia and Adam and just how far I am willing to take thier relationship. To hit or not to hit, I suppose that is the direct question at hand. I wonder if I am taking it too far for myself if he physically abuses her. I can picture in my mind her hitting him; it only makes sense that she would eventually reach the breaking point and lash out in extreme anger. But should I have him hit her. If he did, there certainly would be a great deal of justification on her part for staying with him after that. I am just not sure if I am ready to make her face such an obstacle. I really like Anastasia, I feel as though she is a part of me. Time will tell I suppose...

I try to stay out of my home as much as I possibly can at the moment. The demolition has begun and unfortunately it is in the room where I prefer to work. So it is with a heavy heart that I sit through another day with earplugs. This house has a hold over me and although I leave as much as possible, that only adds up to about an hour every day. Bryce has slowly started talking to me, but I noticed that only when his brother Daryl is not around. Daryl is your typical Alpha-male who just seeps sexuality/border-line creepiness. Bryce always seems to be in the shadow. I think I am going to have to find a way for him to come into the light. My light...

A very quick note....

I have begun to develop a crush on Bryce.

Anastasia and Adam have finally met. 

My bananas are turning brown.

Last night I dreamt of my mother.

Sadie made me a vegan cake today. It was fantastic.

I am feeling very ADD. I have been trying to complete full sentences in my novel, but everything is just coming up point form, such as above. I know this may work for some writers, but not for me. I have decided that the lack of focus is completely and utterly to blame on the reconstruction currently going on in my living room. I feel as though it should be for a bigger purpose. I expressed this to Sadie, as she is very involved in everything, and she suggested giving the house away when it was completed. Many organizations (such as a woman's shelter) would give this home the attention and love it deserves. Something to consider. 

But in the meantime, I wish the noise would stop....

The restoration period....

My vision for my new home has begun. The very talented mr-fix-it Bryce, has seen what I have seen in my house and the work has started. Well, not technically, but he has assured me that Monday will be a very productive day. Unfortunately in order for my house to start living up to its potential, a great deal of what is already there must come down. I assume this is only going to create a bigger mess, and a great deal of noise. For a very long time. 

Last night Bryce and his brother Daryl came over to asses the damages. They suggested having the house torn down and re-built. I nearly fell off my chair. The house might be in bad shape, but it has so much character, I simply could not even think of tearing it down. Yes, everything will need to be replace, and yes, I know this will cost a lot of money and take a lot of time. Luckily, these are both things that I have a great deal of. The only downfall that I can see is the conflict of me trying to work on my novel and having the repairs going at the same time. I considered leaving town again, but I simply do not think that my soul could handle it. There is something about this house that is beginning to form my novel for me. I can sit in this spot and just imagine what my characters would do if they lived here; how they would act, where they would sit, the tremendous fights that would happen. I think someone once was thrown down the stairs....

My story continues to develop at a steady pace which delights and frightens me. I find it almost scary; some of the details of Adam and Anastasia's relationship, in particular the arguments, can be incredibly overwhelming at points. There was a great love between them, which grew to become an even greater hatred. But as the love changed to hatred they found that they needed each other more than ever. The thought of leaving was far too great an obstacle for them to even consider. 

I have been doing a great deal of research on addiction, as I have been fortunate never to of had this social suicide as part of my own life. I cannot decide fully what type of addiction Adam is going to have. Sexual, alcohol, cocaine, speed, ecstasy. Perhaps a combination of two or three of these. At the same time, I wonder if the Anastasia I have created is actually they type of woman who would follow in his footsteps and take on an addiction of her own as a means of understanding exactly how Adam is feeling. Or if she simply joins in because he seems like he is having a good time. This has given me a great deal more to think about. No, I cannot leave this house. Every moment I spend in here allows me a vision into their lives.

Bryce is quite an interesting man. Youngish, rugged looking, and very shy. If it wasn't for Daryl being here yesterday, I don't think we would have got half as much accomplished in the planning.  My own social life has been lacking for a while. Maybe I should, no, never mind. That thought can be saved for another day....

Latino Lover indeed....

Last night I decided to give the dating a complete stranger thing a go, again. This time, I met a man who was a self described 'latino lover' for a few drinks. The quite inappropriate pictures he had previously emailed me had left little to the imagination. I am not quite sure what he was expecting out of the meeting, but I certainly wanted none of it. I had decided to meet with him merely out of curiosity on what kind of person sends a complete stranger pictures of themselves in the nude. And I was greeted with exactly what I had expected...

From the first moment, this man was completely over-the-top. It was as if he was almost oozing the impression of sexiness. But it became very obvious, very quickly, that this was in fact a cover-up for the inability to hold a conversation of any interest. He continually attempted to move the conversation to a sexual theme. Where was the craziest place you have had sex? Have you ever had an orgy? Have you ever been with a woman? Good God!! Is this seriously what passes for first date conversation for some people? I absolutely could not believe what was coming out of his mouth! 

Instead of ducking out while he was in the washroom, I simply laid it out for him. (It was actually quite a speech) I told him I wasn't interested in what he was selling, that I felt like he was the most arrogant man I had ever met, and that I hope he gets help with what was, in my opinion, was an addiction to sex. Then I turned and left without a look behind me.

Tonight I am opting for a quiet night in. It is simply more pleasant this way. Oh wait, there's the phone....

Home at long last...

I have returned to my humble, delapitated home to find it warm. Bryce replaced my furnace and I have never been so happy. It had been a very cold last week indeed.

I was glad that I had the chance to get away for a while. But even as I write that I wonder what exactly it was that I had planned on getting away from in the first place. It is not as though I had a great deal of stress on me, oh right. I had no heat. I had intended to go without communication because I thought that could be done, but I found that nearly impossible. I can see why it is so easy for people to have cabin fever. I simply do not know how I would have survived with my sanity intact for any longer. The bottles of white wine certainly helped...

And now I am home. I had a most pleasant encounter with my neighbor Sadie today. She stopped over to see how my new furnace was doing and I invited her in for a while. Every time I see her, I enjoy her company more and more. She is quite unlike any other person I have ever met. Her sense of style is nothing short of original and fun, and she always has the cutest stories about the patients that she tends to (she works in an elderly care facility). I really hope to see more of her in the future.

I decided tonight to set down to the task at hand...my novel. I have been putting a great deal of thought into how to approach my main character Anastasia. I feel like I always want to put a little bit of myself into my characters, and I feel the same way about her, but more so. The more I think about her and plan out her adventures, the more I like her. It really is such a shame that she is going to be put through such a difficult life for most of my novel, but I feel like it will do her some good. I have begun to start forming her love interest in my head. Adam. Medium height, dark and very handsome. Charming, but strange. Definitely an odd man. He is after all, going to be her downfall. 

I find writing to be the most pleasurable thing I can possibly do. I am very grateful that my father was able to distill the joy of writing in me as a child. I remember sitting on his lap and having him read to me in front of the fire. Most times we would only read the first few pages of a book, then spend hours making up the rest of the story. I miss him a lot, I should really call home soon.....

A moment of complete clarity...

As I sit alone and look out the window, I feel an immense feeling of desperate loneliness. Except for a few moment when I met the mountain man, I have been completely alone with my thoughts for almost four days now. It is really starting to get to me; I have decided to go back home.

All was certainly not lost during my seclusion. I managed to drink a great deal of wine, learn how to build a fire (mine had candles in it) and I have stumbled upon a far more significant plot for my novel than I had ever anticipated. 

The love story I am trying so desperately to make meaningful, finally has meaning. It will be in fact a story of survival. Survival though, only through some very, what I feel to be highly physiological studies of human nature. More specifically, addiction. My main character will of course be a strong woman of good morals, but then she will fall in love with a man who changes her and turns her world completely upside down for several years. Typical, some might think, but her story will be full of so many twists and turns that it will simply be impossible for anyone to put it down. 

I am entirely satisfied with my new revelation. It makes me wish that much more that I had someone to share it with.....

A very random encounter...

I again find myself turning to technology which I promised to swear off for at least a few days. I am craving the need to share with no one one of the most random things which has happened to cross my path in quite some time. Yesterday I opened my door....

And in front of me I found a man. Now, I made a point of coming to this cabin to avoid human contact at all costs, so I was not very happy to see him there. I became slightly more happy though, when I saw what he had brought with him, which was enough firewood to last me a month. I invited him and and offered some of what was left of the bottle of white wine I had nearly finished. He declined but promised to return on perhaps another evening. And that was it. Then he was gone. 

I had not been aware of my loneliness until the moment the door closed. I had been content, and had even succeeding in completing what I had felt was a great deal of work. Perhaps it was the bottle, or two, of wine that I had consumed, but now all of my attention quickly fell to the mountain man and he promise to return. I was supposed to only stay in my winter retreat for a few days, but I am now thinking that I am going to have to stay a bit longer....

I tried to disappear.....

Perhaps it was very simple minded of me to think that I could leave civilization and stay far away for an extended period of time. Perhaps it was simply hope. Whatever it was, it was not possible. I tried for several days to stay away from everything electronic. It didn't go as planned, clearly.

I wanted to get away from distractions, so I booked a weekend away. I wanted to be far, far away. And this I have accomplished. The plan was to have no phone, no computer, no anything for at least three days. I couldn't even do that. I am a weak, weak lady....

I would however like to take this time of weakness to express my newfound love of grapes. They are simple, they are lovely, and I have heard that when eaten frozen, they are delicious. Now I have personally never eaten a grape, but I have held them and desired them and smelled them. That's right, I like to smell grapes. I find it is an activity which may keep me amused for some time. Just imagine, a woman, a full grown woman, sitting around, smelling grapes. It's a little sad, a little funny, and a huge amount of confusion. 

The little cabin I am staying in is very cold and very small. It is your basic one room cabin. I fear that if I were to stay here, then I would without a doubt, go mad. With different circumstances, this cabin  could be romantic, idealistic or even pleasant. I simply cannot do it anymore. I think that I must leave. If I don't, I think that.....Oh wait. Knock at the door. Wonder who it could be. No one knows that I am up here......

I tried to disappear

A date with an Opera man...

Last week I did something I had never done before...I solicited myself on a dating website. I decided I really had nothing to loose and when asked by a man who seemed as normal as they come, to go for dinner, I hesitantly accepted. I met him at a restaurant downtown and immediately I felt as though I had been misled. He said he was thirty. His picture showed that he appeared more to be forty. Up close, I would have to say fifty. Immediately disappointed, I decided to make the most of what could only be an awkward and resistantly unpleasant evening. 

Dinner began well enough - the wine was nice and the food quite good. However, even the happiness that my taste-buds were feeling could not recover the evening with the most self-centered man I have ever met. He talking incessantly about himself all evening. I managed to get a word in about writing, but then he took that and went with it again. I do not think I have ever learned more about one person in a single hour. It was unbelievable. Well, I guess not that unbelievable. This was a man who responded to a personal ad. Not that I judge, but it began to unfold in my head as to why the man was still single. 

I decided to completely avoid the what was sure to be terrible goodbye and simply left when he excused himself after dinner. I, of course, did the gracious thing and left enough money with the waiter for half the meal and promptly walked, no, to be honest, ran out the door and into a cab. 

Now you may or may not judge me for the behavior that I acted with, but please don't. You were not there. I simply did not, no, could not, waste one more second of my life with that man. I am sure he is a good friend to someone, and I am sure that many women would have found him charming, but he was really not for me. I felt there was no point in belaboring the obvious. I'm sure when he came back to the table he understood. Perhaps not. Perhaps he was very hurt and confused. Maybe one day he will recount the event to his friends and laugh about it. Perhaps not.

As there is no need for my justification, as I feel I was simply being as frank as I possibly could be, this will simply fall into the category of bad dates that need never be remembered again.....

My agent returns....

As the candles burnt down to the last of the wax last night, I was finally satisfied with the writing I had accomplished. It was far more than I have been able to do since moving to my igloo home. Today however, I had the most unfortunate afternoon visitor which quickly brought me down off my ivory-tower-of-writing.

Boyd R. Fritters.

He showed up on my porch with a scowl that I had so eagerly anticipated not seeing for at least another month. Boyd R. Fritters. Even writing the name makes me edgy. He, of course, is my agent.

As a person, he is quite delightful; charming, funny, and sometimes even downright sweet. As an agent, however, he is pushy, and demanding, and without a doubt the most arrogant man I have ever met. He has been my agent for years. My father knew him from University, and as my writing abilities grew through my adolescence, he was eager to be a part of what he felt, was sure to be a thriving and everlasting career as a novelist. I have always felt inclined to keep him as my agent because, well, he gets the job done. And it means so much to my father.

I published my last book five years ago. It did quite well, even made the best-sellers list. I did the whole book tour thing, hating every minute of it. I think that is one of the reasons I have been so resolute on taking as much time with this novel as I can possibly manage. 

Moving away to this new home I have inherited was one way that I thought I would be able to escape from Boyd. I actually did not leave a forwarding address. My father apparently did.

From the moment he walked in my front door, I could tell that Boyd had not changed one bit from our past meeting. He immediately assessed the situation of my dilapidated living room and went about poking at this and that asking over and over again why on earth I was living in such a state. I ignored most of this as I knew perfectly well that he knew why I was here. That was the pleasant part of his visit.

The remainder of his time in my home found him quizzing me on my novel. What stage was I at? Did I really think that that plot had follow-through potential? Why would I ever think that that character would be an important part of the ending? It went on like this for some time until he was satisfied that his appearance had shaken me enough into dedicating my next billion years to completing this novel. As he left he hugged me, looked at me and said 'You look just like your mother'. And with that he was gone. I think he thinks of himself as a father-figure for me because I am so far from home. Maybe not. Either way, I cross my fingers hoping his next visit will be when the snow has melted and the leaves have once again turned green....

A day hopeful with inspiration...

As I stared at the banana I crushed with a potato masher, the events that have brought me to this very point over the last few months began to seep into my mind. How strange one would think that I would be pulled from a city so delightful and fruitful as London and thrown head first into a sinking cottage in the inner city of what could easily be mistaken as the second North Pole. Not that I am particularly sad at my departure from the town where a great deal of my emotional ghosts linger, but I just never realized how cold I could actually be until today. About three hours ago to be exact, when the furnace stopped working...

Thankfully there is a small fireplace which was my place of refuge while I called Sadie's handy-man-of-all-trades Bryce. I was nothing short of delighted with shivering eccstaticness when he appeared at my door. Unfortunately the happiness was short lived when he told me I needed a new furnace. But not to worry, he had a large amount of heating fans in his truck to tied me over until the morning. What a saint....

So now I find myself embracing the lack of heat and I lit all the candles I had at my disposal. Have you ever written by candle light? It is very remarkable. I don't even feel like I am in modern times. Except of course for the noisy fan blowing at my feet. (I am really trying to block that out) I almost feel as though my husband (if I had one) would blow through the door at any moment with a dead deer over his back from his day of hunting in the forest. And I his lovely little wife would ever so delicately cut it up and make him stew. Hmm. Except I can't cook. And I hate eating wild meat. Dream shattered. Back to reality. But I do love the candle light....

A new year....

Ah New Years Eve. A time of fun, excitement and new beginnings. This year I spent my new years in sin city. I would like to say that it was amazing, tantalizing and full of new wonderment. It was. But in a rather untraditional sort of way. I went to stay with my cousin and avoided the bright lights at all cost. I find Vegas better that way. No hype, no debauchery, just basking in the under-belly of what could be. 

Last week, out of sheer boredom of lack of inspiration for the new novel I have just begun, I placed a personal add. The response throughout the following days proved to be very remarkable. There was some very odd ones ("Please respond so I know this isn't a sham") to the straight forward ("I will be your muse and for this one special occasion, you can be my hoe") to the downright nasty (I saw pictures that I was never expecting to see). I find the whole situation to be very remarkable as I put very little information about myself on the site. It made me think that there really are a lot more men looking for love anywhere than I had expected. 

As I returned from my trip to the home that I am now living in, I was hit by the demanding need for a beautiful surrounding. I had inherited this home in an area which a very good friend of mine affectionately calls 'crack town' and I have fallen in love with it. From the dilapidated porch, to the pain chipping off the leaning turret. Everything about my house screams for me to reach into the depth of my heart and bring it back to life. It was like love at first  sight, but without all of the nauseating consequences of unreturned love. My house loves me back, I can just feel it.

I met my neighbor today. Her same is Sadie and she is a very intriguing character.  I absolutely adored her style (I have termed it new-age-hippie). She gave me a number of a man she knew who spends his time fixing old houses. I think I will call him tomorrow and hope that h absolutely  e will see the picture that I have for my home. He may have to look very hard, but if he the right man, it should be as simple as opening a carton of milk.

I left a plate of grapes next to my computer and I feel the aroma is starting to inspire me, so until next time....