Tuesday
A coffee has been poured for me. Airports represent the business of life. There is too much new information, happening all the time. It’s easy to have some sort of pin-point place for your morality. I do not think that that is what we should aim for. It is the beginning of my trip. My mind has been emptied yesterday as I sat by the lake, listening to the peace that was represented by the waves crashing along the sand.
The flight to Calgary and then Montreal was quick. I am now sitting in a cafe. I have had my lunch, now it’s time to enjoy some tea and baking. It is not good weather but I don’t mind that. I need to meet up with my friends friend. I have a lot of time up until then. I should start doing something beautiful with my time.
I have checked in and been introduced to some of my dorm room-mates. They are from Edmonton and they don’t like BC. I guess there is a rivalry between us. They mentioned the pretentiousness that is commonly found there. The one man wants to move to Montreal when he saves up a little, I forgot to ask where he works.
Wednesday
I spent the day walking around with my friend and his girlfriend. We sat on a terrace, drank some lovely ale and wine, indulged on some octopus and salad.
Then in the evening I met with Quinn. He is into film and photography. He showed me some of the things he is working on. People you haven’t met are interesting. They are a puzzle that needs assembling and reassembling. The conversations have the potential to go very deep and that is the most cherishing things of all.
Thursday
I have been sitting at this cafe, listening to the classical music and slow jazz that is playing in the background.
Something about Montreal illustrates life well. People all going different directions, not meaning to be rude but coming across that way, anyways. Everyone has a story, each waitress is living life such as you are. It is only a matter of time that all of us stumble on happiness. Is my goal to be living in such an environment? There are so many opportunities it seems. Yet there is also cruelty, not as was expected of course.
There is so much beauty here. There is too much to appreciate and too little time. How would you find the effort and time to walk everywhere, see everyone? The people are sweet and all deserve attention and gratitude. If I could I would spend more time here, discovering the language of the French and possibly move to Paris afterwards. There is a lot of history here but it is only a dip into the actual history of the French.
I move from cafe to cafe, there is something new on each street, something undiscovered. As I look around I discover things about myself as well. It is the isolation that I crave, with so many people you can hide away and become invisible, because you are just another face that is gone the next second after noticing it. It is easy to hide away from one’s own struggles and maybe this is why people come to big cities, to become unnoticeable.
I am working on some writing, pondering C. S. Lewis’ depression. Soothing. The sound of plates clashing in the background as they are being collected, laughs even further out behind the counter. Unknown phrases being used. What is it about language that is so essential? Why should we write? I wonder. Maybe it is because of this, this unseen beauty that is unknown but can be known. The thoughts of another person on paper, thoughts you can read and hope to understand. We chase wisdom for the sake of happiness. It is, arguably, the only happiness that is attainable. And it is understandable that we pursue it through words, and then music. Could it be the other way around? Music is a form of therapy, words can be that as well, as we see with A Grief Observed. Lewis needed some sort of therapeutic pondering and so he took to the pen and paper.
It is good to sit and think and process these thoughts on paper. You say things that you did not know you think. It is a form of meditation, even if no one reads it, which in this case should be true, that is where you find yourself most happy. Completely expressive and honest with yourself. Maybe that is wishing for too much. Maybe that is the ultimate virtue.
Friday
There is something you discover about yourself when you challenge yourself socially. But you only challenge yourself socially if you do not have a different acquaintance at the time.
It started pouring just now, pouring rain. And it has stopped after a while.
I keep thinking about her as I am sitting by an open window listening to the heavy rain. Her face is so interesting. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful, but it’s fully expressing emotions that seem as if they were mirrored from myself. When I look at her I see what I think, when I say what I think she responds within moments and gives value to my feelings. It’s authentic expressions and this is why I cherish them. If there is no expression then there can not be a response. And if there isn’t a response there can not be a connection. You can overplay it, but that is not what she does. She has mastered the craft perfectly.
So I wonder, is that the ultimate goal of social interaction? Do we aspire to see the best in people so that they can see in our facial expressions that we are truly listening, understanding, and applying the thoughts they have stated? This is true friendship, when you are completely invested, when there is nothing else to gain. That is what I will try to gain.
My bed is comfortable but laying in it for too long is painful. There is too much to see and to know in this city to do that without a sense of guilt. I wonder, is this how Albert Camus felt, or Ernest Hemingway, or Scott Fitzgerald as they were walking through the streets of Paris.
Montreal is best understood when it is raining. I was lucky to see it raining today, to walk the streets in it’s rain. It cleanses the city, makes it easier to associate emotions with it. That is the dream, to sit by a window, with a guitar, coffee, and notepad and to just write down emotions and try to compose music with those emotions. We should do the craft justice and master the talents that we have, attribute skill to them.
Saturday
The driver was helpful. He was discussing the history of the town and significance of various streets. I was told that the people in Montreal are not very friendly. This is not what I have found thus far.
When you are drunk you just want one thing, to get home and for it all to be over. Because it is better to be aware than to have mindless fun. But some can not deal with being aware and so they escape to that numbing feeling. I prefer the first. Life is better with me being able to reflect on it.
Sunday
Montreal was beautiful. Montreal has been good to my soul. Now I come back to that place where I came from and I attempt to transcribe what I have witnessed place to place. Plane to plane. House to house. Bed to bed.
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