I'm in Toronto now, and a daylog seems like a strangely beautiful idea. I've been wanting to write daylogs for a while now. I've been wanting to write I am not a daylogger at the top of every one and link them all together at the bottom, so you can all hang on my life's every drama. It would be perfect. My problem is I always think of noding a day after it is past and I've never liked the idea of writing a daylog after the day is over. I think it's kind of cheating.

I'm in Toronto now. Now. Trawno. I'm not from here, as this environmental science geek on the subway thought, but it's ok, he's from Alberta. I'm from Boston. I'm going to Boston. It's been some trip, it's been 3 months in rural China, 3 months on an island off of Shanghai, teaching english. It's been not knowing how to communicate, but smiling and trying. It's been eating dog (it tastes kind of like mutton, I think). It's been seeing the sunset twice in one day (Korea & New York) as I flew back. It's been reading poetry in front of smoky strangers in somewhere New York. It's been falling in love with a Swedish girl in my one week home before it became my vacation to Cuba.

Yes, it too has been my trip to Cuba. I got my head straight razor'd into a mohawk in Havana. The barber was crazy, and I believe drunk. Afterward he told me he loves me (I love him too, I think). I took a picture of myself grinning mad holding a piece of paper I had minutes before painted "I'm Illegal" on to, in front of the U.S. Interests building in Cuba. It's been illegal. I want to write a metaphor I do not understand, but it will make sense to me somehow. Wordlessness. My life feels like facial hair on a young male, it feels nice and soft but you just deep down want to shave it all off. Haha. I want to shave my life.

And it's become Toronto. I've been wandering around downtown finding the bus station, finding a cafe, finding a doughnut (donut). I have no money. Very little money. Today, I had one ham sandwich my airline provided. Tomorrow I will have nothing until I can get home, 16 hours on a bus with my notebook to protect me (god help my suburban soul).

It's been laughing, waking up screaming, falling asleep smiling, loneliness, discovering beauty in solitude. It's been something that none of these are, something I will never be able to write down, it's been wordless.

I just got an email saying I have been hired to go to work in Alaska on a salmon fishery. 16 hours a day, 7 days a week. Hard work, but I will make lots of money. Soon who knows what it will be. Wonderful. Madness. Love. Squalor.