I am moving through the unfolding life in Montreal — I love Montreal more than I have loved any place I have ever lived (even if I can’t catch a break (e.g., my iPhone was recently ripped out of my hands & stolen in broad daylight) / physically & personally it has been the most painful time of my life). Thank you. It is challenging & generous & painful & exciting & PEOPLE TAKE RISKS & DO SHIT. I am surrounded by people who I am giving all of myself to & it feels fucking fantastic.
I am not panicked, instead I’m looking around waiting to be spotted. I have taken something from my own home, and I don’t want anyone to notice. The elusive ‘they’ always take note of my steps. The streets close in on me because the new year has parted the trees from covering me and instead i’m just as gray as the sidewalk and the salt on the cars. I start to run, but I can’t. My cough catches up to me and the cold air pounds the back of my throat. I make a sound! I musn’t. I’m on the run, I am trying to be elusive! What am I thinking? Anyone here can see me, anyone can notice my jacket and yell out my name. I don’t want anyone right now. I just want the loot to keep with me. Where the fuck am I even going? I start to get lost. On a plane? a train? on the metro to the other side of the city? I see some cats running by, one gets hit by a car. I look east and notice it just escaped. Can I? I feel like I’m in some Houellebecq novel. I think I hate him. Whatever! Just get me the fuck out of here before my possession ruins me and ruins itself.
— 3 jan 2007