Anniversary time

On November 16th I will have been here for a year. I was re-reading my old blog from November 15th of last year and remembering what a stressed out fiasco the whole thing was. I can't believe I've been here for a year. Sometimes it feels like longer, but somehow I still haven't quite settled in. But mostly I wonder why Joseph, my upstairs neighbour, never did come through on that dinner. I'm back in Kerrisdale from time to time and I have half a mind to buzz him and be like, "What the fuck?" which is totally neurotic, but come on. He asked me over for dinner twice and never made good on it. I think it's because in the interim of him asking me the first two times and me moving out I smoked some pot a few times and maybe he knew it was me (he lived right above me) and that was a turnoff for him. Thank goodness he never caught me freebasing crack cocaine! Pot is lovely.
In other news, I was able to pull myself away from my numerous addictions long enough to go for a run today. The only run I've done since the marathon was that nightmare trail run that probably ended up on goddamn YouTube or something since all it was really was me flailing my feeble arms as I tripped down trails and tried not to run directly into trees. I still feel pretty tweaky and so I said to myself, "Duder" I says, "Duder, you don't have to kill yourself on this one. Let's just enjoy the music and go until we don't want to go anymore". So I ran for almost 50 minutes and my body felt like a leaden lump that wouldn't obey its master (obey, obey!) and I got home and looked up the route and I ran just shy of 10 kilometres. To put that into perspective: my goal - when I was running 10k races like a year and a half ago - was to do a sub 50 minute 10k. So I'm feeling pretty good about that.
Michael says I should have a little party for the one year marker, but I haven't been much of a social animal as of late for obvious reasons. I spend a lot of time watching people talk and willing them to stop talking because they're not interesting, and they are using up the number of minutes I have between now and when I die.
So... that was negative. I blame Joseph. Fucker. I don't get it.
Okay. Time to accept that the guy in my old building that I talked to like four times didn't make me dinner once after water from his suite came pouring through my kitchen light fixture. It's puzzling, though. Like people that cover their mouths when talking on cell phones.
Here's one of my running tunes (but find the original cause it's more of a duet, and there's less orgasmic moaning from the keyboard player, and more heavy breathing from Moby which totally works for me):