When I moved to Montreal it was because I was getting bored of all the things I was used to doing and having the same types of conversations with the same people. (although now I miss some of those conversations - there's not as many weirdos out there as I'd like).
So that's starting to happen again. I'm growing a bit weary of Plateau fabulousness, booze-fueled underground party-hopping, bizarre concerts & art events, and running into the same people at all of these things. Not that I don't like the people, I do, but I'm a decadent neophile and I need fresh blood to keep things interesting.. or one of those people that are always fresh blood (but I only know a very small handful of such people).
The problem is each time I branch out into new territory (new hobby, different locale, stranger's party) I end up meeting people that interest me even less still. Such is the life, I suppose.
Naturally this has led my mind to thoughts of vagabonding, getting out to new and strange destinations like Paris (1 month!), Berlin, Barcelona, Prague, Buenos Aires, Osaka, and the like. Most of what I've been reading has been in that vein, with the exception of a book on puppetry and Max Stirner's libertarian classic "The Ego and His Own."
It may be the fact that I often don't feel like I'm sharing things with other people, although I've had my share of flings, I haven't had a serious relationship since December, and flings are fun, but I find them ultimately draining over the long haul. Perhaps this is why I having been feeling particularly creative lately.
Maybe it's time to conjure up a bizarre cocktail and write my way back from the other side.
So that's starting to happen again. I'm growing a bit weary of Plateau fabulousness, booze-fueled underground party-hopping, bizarre concerts & art events, and running into the same people at all of these things. Not that I don't like the people, I do, but I'm a decadent neophile and I need fresh blood to keep things interesting.. or one of those people that are always fresh blood (but I only know a very small handful of such people).
The problem is each time I branch out into new territory (new hobby, different locale, stranger's party) I end up meeting people that interest me even less still. Such is the life, I suppose.
Naturally this has led my mind to thoughts of vagabonding, getting out to new and strange destinations like Paris (1 month!), Berlin, Barcelona, Prague, Buenos Aires, Osaka, and the like. Most of what I've been reading has been in that vein, with the exception of a book on puppetry and Max Stirner's libertarian classic "The Ego and His Own."
It may be the fact that I often don't feel like I'm sharing things with other people, although I've had my share of flings, I haven't had a serious relationship since December, and flings are fun, but I find them ultimately draining over the long haul. Perhaps this is why I having been feeling particularly creative lately.
Maybe it's time to conjure up a bizarre cocktail and write my way back from the other side.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
I found mostly the same old shit, expressed in another language.
Some places tend to attract more interesting people, true.
But predictably excellent conversations come from cultivating fascinating friends, imho.