Tuesday, August 25, 2009

6 days to go

I saw my 33rd apartment today. Between July 23rd and August 25th, I saw 33 apartments and called over 50 places. I still don't have a place for September. FAIL.

Not all of them are horrible dumps where the landlord is looking to bully yet another student tenant, but fuck, it makes me feel like an octopus on a rock that must choose between staying ashore or going into the water. I want to do neither. Life of an octopus is rather a hard one, it seems. Oh, and dear landlords of Toronto, please stop rejecting me because I'm a student. If I was black or disabled or purple or had an extra finger, would you reject me for that? If you answered yes, plz throw yourselves into a pit of fire.

Where are my parents when I need them? I'd move back into my old room in a second. Oh right, they moved to Vancouver. I guess I'll be seeing you, West Coast.

(ETA: after all this effort, the slightest bit of hope remains that I will, indeed, find a place that I love before the time comes for me to pitch a tent in a bush.)

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Musique en plus

Found this on my computer today:

And there's my talking voice.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Thank you, internet

The things on the interwebz are just too good sometimes.

But I guess they get 'em from TV, sometimes.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Marseille (and Toronto)

I'm reading Pictures from Italy, written by Charles Dickens. I was going through my 1600+ photos from Europe and thought it would be a nuch more solid-headed recap; Dickens wrote it during his travels through Italy (via France) starting in 1844, and amazingly, he is tracing my steps backwards through France--Avignon, Aix and Marseille. He talks of the gypsies, the beggars in the streets, crowds gathering at popular tourist sites (the same as today), and so much of it is the same, yet so different too, with Dickens and his family taking three full days to travel from Paris to Marseille whereas it took me all of the hour and fifteen minutes to travel overhead.

Here's a passage he wrote of Marseille:
I was there, twice or thrice afterwards, in fair weather and foul; and I am afraid there is no doubt that it is a dirty and disagreeable place... a compound of vile smells perpetually arising from a great harbour full of stagnant water... which, in hot weather, is dreadful in the last degree.
And that seems to be an opinion of Marseille held by quite a few travellers I met on the road. Those who love Marseille, however, are more than infatuated with it. What I have of it are kind strangers eager to point me in the right direction, lasting patience with my less-than-perfect French, good advices and good seafood.

Nom, mussels and fries.

Clearest waters, my first dip in the Mediterranean

Notre-dame de la garde, seen from the Vieux Port

...but I guess divided opinions are true of every city. The same goes for Toronto, it seems--I jumped onto my flight home and was uneasy with impatience my entire flight home, dying to see my garbage strike-ridden city and reunite with my hometown that I love so much. A friend of mine was disappointed that I still held such enthusiasm for Toronto. When I asked him why, he answered that he wanted to hear from another person, and be assured that Toronto is not a place to stay.

But you know I feel otherwise.

Forest City Lovers and the D'Urbervilles tomorrow! SummerWorks is yet another point for the T.O.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Time time time

How is it August 6th already? Things shouldn't go so fast. Anyway, after two weeks of being back home I am no longer thrown off by people speaking English around me.

I have a new hobby now: Apartment hunting, the favourite pasttime of anyone living their student life. If anyone would be so gracious as to throw down a 3-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a house with a sun deck, a gas stove, ensuite laundry and a small yard within a 5-minute walking distance of a subway station in Downtown Toronto for under $1500 a month utilities included, I might allow myself to be mailed to you within this week to be your bride. We can talk about it. This is a good time for weddings I think, since Jens Lekman is willing to play at yours if the timing is right.

Speaking of which though, a Heaven of Delight would be nice too:

The ceiling at the Royal Palace in Brussels, Belgium
Covered with 1.4 million jewel beetle shells.

I'm supposed to be recapping my Eurotrip, but trying to make up for all the overbudget dollars makes me a straight hustla and makes blogging seem like a 4 A.M. event, which is a time unknown to me.