Neverending Rain
Neverending rain. As a Montrealer, I am almost disinclined to take much stock in the whole global warming thing as we have had what seems to be an unending string of shitty disappointing summers.
Neverending rain and clouds and drear and me taking a day off to play golf in the middle of the drear.
Still, it was good to get a lie in for once as the renovation frenzy has allowed little in the way of long nights of sleep. So I got time to re-acquaint myself with that 2 hour sort of semi-sleep – the province of those bizarre looping self-referential dreams. This morning I was walking through a dark dreary pre or post apocalyptic Oakville looking for ice-cream and a good bottle of white wine in advance of a hurricane that was due to arrive on Sunday evening just in time to coincide with Fox Sunday Night – the Americans having planned the calamity for prime-time.
The place was like a carnival with people learing at you from the gutters and alleys and this flickering incandescent lighting and all the shops in booths with red and white marquees and hawkers and gawkers and monkeys and the clouds hung overhead and got darker like it was night and I slept in through work and a dentists appointment and did a half-assed job of lacquering the walls in the bathroom so they only half glowed.
Neverending rain…