i, asshole.
this is the view from my window. it's from the same batch of film i shot my sticker-project photos on: this panoramic picture postcard vista is what i have to deal with every. single. fucking. day.
that's the town of dartmouth on the other shore -- the staten island to halifax's manhattan (if i may make such a sacrilegious analogy). a place even more crappy/picturesque with great swathes of quaint little colour-coordinated houses in shades of bluegreenbeige that'd make martha stewart cream her monogrammed panties.
-- notice how the exact same photo in black & white could be of any coastal town in the fifties?
i live on the seventh floor of a former infirmary five whole blocks away from the harbour. everything i hold true tells me that there's no way in hell i should be able to see the water.
the reasons i'll never belong here all stem from me being the paranoid townie asshole i am:
--i need traffic noises & stores that stay open on sundays, crowded subway rides downtown & summers that smell like sewage.
--i need the feeling of anonymity/security that comes with being a small fish in a very big pond.
--i still do double takes whenever i hear teenaged girls talk about boys & fashion in one breath & how this year's crops are doing the next.
--complete strangers being nice to me for no discernible motive scare me far more than any dark alleyway can. halifax is the only place i've been where i'm consistently referred to as a "lady" as opposed to "that...person" by shopkeepers.
--i haven't had a single 'hey, mister' directed at me once &, sad to say, i miss even that too.
--jokes at the expanse of the obese can last me only so long. people-watching in this town is an excercise in frustration.
i've been working things out with my family enough that i can move back to toronto after i'm done foundation year: that's how bad it is.
all the maps in my head are those of new york & toronto -- i have to keep my halifax address written on a card in my wallet because i still can't remember where i live.
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