With Gusto

Ice Cream

My instincts, or "spidey-sense(s)" have been acting up lately. David, the CSIS agent is elusive, though I think the reason for his appearance is deeper than any convoluted exploration of the self. For instance, David is a very formal name, and he's from an institution, or something rather established. . . getting down to the reason behind this paragraph -- there is something official gazing at me, and I couldn't care less. I could be paranoid, but as I've been saying for a long time, paranoia does not exist. Perhaps there are elements of paranoia in someone's judgment, but to think that something is after a human being is far from paranoia. Most likely, the hunter is yet to be identified. Deer are skittery for a reason.

Blergh. I have two more feature assignments to write before I can never write another one again in my entire life. The prospect is literal. One more thing to get over. . . I came to Victoria to dip my hands into as many pots as possible, and when I move, I'm going to burn feature writing in the fire pits of my adolescence. Though many things I will keep. Many lessons, many directions and doors that don't need to be opened will remain closed. Or how about relating it to food; the next time I wander through this buffet, I'll skip the salads and head straight to the ice cream machine.