Not afraid of streetcars anymore.

It was like summer here today. I swear, I have packed entirely poorly for this trip. Here I thought I'd be in the deep throes of autumn, nearing winter, that the wind would be bitter and set my teeth on edge. Instead it has been balmy and sweet, as though beckoning me. Well, sweet except for the wafting smell of sewage. Occasionally have had a wee gag at that.

My thighs are becoming rock hard from all the walking here. I want to pack the subway and streetcars in my suitcase and bring them all back to transit challenged Vancouver.

I hardly seem to need sleep, everything here is moving moving moving. I want to submerge myself in the urban hum, let the rhythm of city in motion carry me with it. Now, in that two year plan of mine, is there room for a move to Toronto? I am considering it. As is my brother. As, it seems, are so many people I know. Unless they are already here and considering a move to Vancouver. You know, for the weather. And "it's so pretty there". Ich. I'm tired of pretty. Everything in Toronto feels solid. Rooted. Built to last. The brick houses give an air of elegance, or age, or both. I have not spent this kind of time here before. I have always stayed with my grandparents, both of whom are now dead, so staying with them would require some existential trickery of the highest order. So this trip has a new quality for me, about discovering the Toronto I can make my own. Keeping my own hours and travelling in my own circles.

Today is the anniversary of our dad dying. It has passed easily, more easily than expected. Perhaps easily is not the right word. Softly. Yes, that's it. It has been a soft day. I am surprised as I expected something more dramatic. I don't know what, exactly, but perhaps because I was so worried about this particular milestone for so long, I waded through the angst of it pre-happening. Anyway, things here are so great, it's hard to want to wade into despair. I am surprised at my own lack of anxiety in any capacity. Although, having said that, I think my entire family, (what's left of it), is coming to my show on Sunday. Yikesies. Oh, well, I hope they can handle it. I'm not exactly a family show. I suppose they know me well enough, though. They're going to have to get used to my raunch at some point. Actually, I think I am much raunchier and edgier in person than I am on stage, which, of course, is where I think my comedy is falling down. Bridge that gap, girl.

I have met a comic who inspires me to do just that. I watch him and think if I was a man, that's what I would be doing. Then I think, what the fuck, why don't I do it anyway? He literally told at least three jokes I have written but not tried on stage out of some kind of worry. And they were funny. So I have to start trusting my instincts more, if I think it's funny, it's probably going to make somebody laugh.

Oof, just got sleepy. Have sweet dreams, ya'll. I will dream of eastern air coursing through my lungs in a more permanent way.


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