a breakfast for losers...

My entire day was spent writing a story about a fictious character that I would like to meet. I wrote about a character who goes by the name of Arthur P. Darling. I had created him last month, and decided to fully expand on him. It is terrible, and I have not figured out what to title it as. The rest of my long weekend was spent in Toronto with a friend of mine. The majority of what I can remember was spent on subway trains and street cars. I have this distinct memory (or should I call it a memory, when it occurred only but two days ago. A memory at least has to be a few years old, and collecting dust in ones mind) of an elderly gentlemen who smiled at me while waiting for the train. These complete strangers make these impressions in my mind. Perhaps I'm just obsessive, but I like to see everything around me. I like to notice everything, and make note of it. Mainly I make note of people. It's because they are these fascinating creatures in my eyes, and because I lack a sort of interaction with people that I hold on to these complete strangers who I've never spoken a decent word to. At least I only go as far as making a mental note, and not following them home.

I also became more fond of Montreal, and wanting to live there more and more.