I’m sitting here listening to this guy named Brother Ali, it’s like Spotify knows that I like songs named after actors and gifted me with “Forest Whitaker.” It’s smooth, like a summer afternoon when the sun hides behind the tall buildings downtown and you get a bison taco on banic from the Native Delights truck. The wind shifts and pulls the sweat off your neck, letting you know it’s time for dinner. Fuck I miss Edmonton.
The last time I posted on this blog was the last time I felt apart of this world. It’s influenza season, and you know what that means—literally everyone and their mom is sick. Literally. I think I know exactly what let my bug through my (usually) impenetrable defenses, though, and it’s all my fault.
I couldn’t have been more than thirteen, if that. My friend Tyler and I were inseparable during this summer and one afternoon we found ourselves at his father’s work place. We milled around outside while his dad disappeared indoors; I remember that it was hot, and the bricks of the building magnified the heat from the concrete, baking me alive.
It’s been a weird week and I’ve been trying to put out a post since Monday night, but I just couldn’t seem to wrestle one out of me. Last night I wrote to the point where I was happy with what I had put down—a far cry from Monday. But I figured I’d continue tonight and complete all the thoughts I started. I still have one more day of work, and then I feel like the real test will begin. I’m not sure what has made me feel this way, but I hope I can figure it out.
I came to the realization this morning that I like winter more than I ever let on. I think it started when I was little and saw the Empire Strikes Back. The opening scene with Luke on his Tauntaun, traversing the landscape of Hoth in a blizzard struck a chord with me. When you’re a kid in Grande Prairie, winter is all you have.