sam's internet house

American Football by American Football I've felt the end of the summer from a long ways away this year. I have a habit of getting too excited for warm weather too early in the year and then I run out of steam for summer before fall is even upon us. In my undergrad days, I used to go to Windsor House because they were my friends and the only people I knew in the entire city of students that had rented a full house with a front and backyard. I used to bring a case of beer, tequila, and limes, and we would celebrate "Margaritaville" outside - the first day of the year above 15 degrees. The weather would continue to be really quite awful until June at least, often you weren't even able to wear shorts until then, but it made the summer feel so very long, starting on a sunny day while barely out of winter and concluding in September. I have such fond memories of those days sitting on the Windsor porch with PJ & the rest of those goofs with the sun hitting our faces. This year's summer stretched even longer than those undergrad summers, which I hadn't really thought was possible. For the first time ever, I live in a place with very little snow. My first time wearing running shorts in March and a bathing suit on a beach in early April. Starting so early in the year gave me tons of time to plan things to get excited for: Camping with Sophie, running a half-marathon, watching NHL playoffs, watching the World Cup (at the local parties in my city!!), seeing my family, travelling to LA, hosting Side-Character Saturday, going to the Yotty in Quebec w/ L, big party pride weekend, seeing LCD Soundsystem, like 100 awesome hang outs with lovely friends, all concluding with Brie's planned visit in August. Dad in May hitting the Dad pose looking out at the water and the mountains If you've read my other blog posts from this summer you might have remarked that I've been feeling a bit lost, having lots of fun but still feeling a bit distant and reflective. It felt like sort of a shock to be sitting at the park with Brie just two and a half weeks ago, watching the sunset and talking about the lives that we've been living over the past few months. Seeing Brie was the very last thing I had on my calendar this summer and it feels very strange to be pivoting into the fall with a clear schedule. All the big things I have to look forward to are a little too far in the future. end of the summer // end of the trail In moving towards Fall I am thinking about ways to get creative again. The summer kills any spark I have because it's too hot to think and also I have a nagging voice in my head forcing me to be outside while it lasts. I can't bring my cart of creative supplies outside with me all the time and so I am forced to sit and daydream and socialize (all necessary), but without any output. Part of creativity for me comes from personal archiving1. In practice this looks like the very blog you are reading right now, which is my most public personal archive. My very private archive is my journal, which no other eyes can read. I think that I am honest in both places. I am perhaps more polished and figured out in this public persona that you read on occasion, but I very rarely discuss any deeply personal matters on here. I do not bare my soul in a way that other people do on the internet (and I admire them for doing so!), but I reserve the fears and desires and emotions that make me want to throw up for the journal and not the public realm. Maybe in the future there will be some way to combine the two and to get 'realer' online. I'm thinking about writing about some health stuff, about some love stuff, about some painful friend stuff. All things that live in the journal for now but could one day see the light of day. I have an urge to do this because it has been in my previous moments of public vulnerability that I have made friends and have had folks reach out. Those connections are deeply rewarding and a good reminder that in order to find vulnerability in others, you need to output some yourself. Call it vulnerability/call it insight/call it whatever, here's a candid "how i've been" lately. I've been generally very happy in many of the little pockets of my life: work, relationships, fitness. Needing to put more energy into: health (seeing a doctor on the regular now is good at least), rest (meaningful rest), creativity (been giving myself no time at all for things), long-term goals. For the very first time in my life, plenty of my needs are quite fulfilled or at least on the way up. I'm having a hard time imagining what big goals to set next and it has left me feeling quite aimless. I certainly don't have everything figured out, but I like my life a lot right now. It's hard to know what could be better or different. L.A. in june. from a very good trip with Leon When I get like this in life, I often get a big impulse to run and to make a big change. Blow up my life over and over again. This time, because I have no urge to run away, that impulse is manifesting as a sort of cabin fever. I find myself feeling like I've already seen everything and done every reasonable adventure and so I'm stuck. What else can I do? This is perhaps a symptom of my lack of time spent on meaningful creativity, a lack of producing output in a way that feels good. I feel that I have little to share with others. My world is so internal. Other things affecting me: a best pal is leaving town forever (on to better things!), but this departure sucks and will continue to be felt for a long time (I feel I have no ability to complain, I've done this to others and I'll do it again). A few people in my life are in ill health and they are far away from me and there is so little I can do other than be anxious about them. I am scared all the creative parts of my brain have floated away and need to be rebuilt. I suppose I am placing the first building block of that new creativity by writing this in one sitting at ten pm on the couch in my apartment with the balcony door wide open. I think the crisp new air is bringing in something special. I have less anxiety for the descent into Fall/Winter than I have in previous years, in part because I think that many big things are going to happen in the coming months. In my contentment with many aspects of my life, I think I am finally in a position to say yes to opportunities, to be a good community member. I feel loved and fulfilled2 in many different ways and I'm eager to contribute to the world in self-centred ways (making my silly creative projects) and not so self-centred ways (upcoming election volunteering! community projects!). I'll report back on how things go. And in the interest of being a good community member... I have some emails to reply to from some of you lovely folks that read this blog, and I have some emails to send to some cool new people I've found online over the last bit. All coming soon! I leave you with rabbits, rabbits, rabbits3 on this first day of September. yours, sam watching the sunset w/ Brie ##### reply or comment here. 1. Reading the Personal Archives from the Syllabus Project and working my way through that right now...you might find it cool too.↩ 2. Reflecting that feeling loved and fulfilled in this bizarre little life and world is really awesome. What a treasure and a blessing to be able to say that. I can't think about it too hard or I feel a bit teary.↩ 3. wikipedia article for you↩

American Football by American Football I've felt the end of the summer from a long ways away this year. I have a habit of getting too excited for warm weather too early in the year and then I run out of steam for summer before fall is even upon us. In my undergrad days, I used to go to Windsor House because they were my friends and the only people I knew in the entire city of students that had rented a full house with a front and backyard. I used to bring a case of beer, tequila, and limes, and we would celebrate "Margaritaville" outside - the first day of the year above 15 degrees. The weather would continue to be really quite awful until June at least, often you weren't even able to wear shorts until then, but it made the summer feel so very long, starting on a sunny day while barely out of winter and concluding in September. I have such fond memories of those days sitting on the Windsor porch with PJ & the rest of those goofs with the sun hitting our faces. This year's summer stretched even longer than those undergrad summers, which I hadn't really thought was possible. For the first time ever, I live in a place with very little snow. My first time wearing running shorts in March and a bathing suit on a beach in early April. Starting so early in the year gave me tons of time to plan things to get excited for: Camping with Sophie, running a half-marathon, watching NHL playoffs, watching the World Cup (at the local parties in my city!!), seeing my family, travelling to LA, hosting Side-Character Saturday, going to the Yotty in Quebec w/ L, big party pride weekend, seeing LCD Soundsystem, like 100 awesome hang outs with lovely friends, all concluding with Brie's planned visit in August. Dad in May hitting the Dad pose looking out at the water and the mountains If you've read my other blog posts from this summer you might have remarked that I've been feeling a bit lost, having lots of fun but still feeling a bit distant and reflective. It felt like sort of a shock to be sitting at the park with Brie just two and a half weeks ago, watching the sunset and talking about the lives that we've been living over the past few months. Seeing Brie was the very last thing I had on my calendar this summer and it feels very strange to be pivoting into the fall with a clear schedule. All the big things I have to look forward to are a little too far in the future. end of the summer // end of the trail In moving towards Fall I am thinking about ways to get creative again. The summer kills any spark I have because it's too hot to think and also I have a nagging voice in my head forcing me to be outside while it lasts. I can't bring my cart of creative supplies outside with me all the time and so I am forced to sit and daydream and socialize (all necessary), but without any output. Part of creativity for me comes from personal archiving1. In practice this looks like the very blog you are reading right now, which is my most public personal archive. My very private archive is my journal, which no other eyes can read. I think that I am honest in both places. I am perhaps more polished and figured out in this public persona that you read on occasion, but I very rarely discuss any deeply personal matters on here. I do not bare my soul in a way that other people do on the internet (and I admire them for doing so!), but I reserve the fears and desires and emotions that make me want to throw up for the journal and not the public realm. Maybe in the future there will be some way to combine the two and to get 'realer' online. I'm thinking about writing about some health stuff, about some love stuff, about some painful friend stuff. All things that live in the journal for now but could one day see the light of day. I have an urge to do this because it has been in my previous moments of public vulnerability that I have made friends and have had folks reach out. Those connections are deeply rewarding and a good reminder that in order to find vulnerability in others, you need to output some yourself. Call it vulnerability/call it insight/call it whatever, here's a candid "how i've been" lately. I've been generally very happy in many of the little pockets of my life: work, relationships, fitness. Needing to put more energy into: health (seeing a doctor on the regular now is good at least), rest (meaningful rest), creativity (been giving myself no time at all for things), long-term goals. For the very first time in my life, plenty of my needs are quite fulfilled or at least on the way up. I'm having a hard time imagining what big goals to set next and it has left me feeling quite aimless. I certainly don't have everything figured out, but I like my life a lot right now. It's hard to know what could be better or different. L.A. in june. from a very good trip with Leon When I get like this in life, I often get a big impulse to run and to make a big change. Blow up my life over and over again. This time, because I have no urge to run away, that impulse is manifesting as a sort of cabin fever. I find myself feeling like I've already seen everything and done every reasonable adventure and so I'm stuck. What else can I do? This is perhaps a symptom of my lack of time spent on meaningful creativity, a lack of producing output in a way that feels good. I feel that I have little to share with others. My world is so internal. Other things affecting me: a best pal is leaving town forever (on to better things!), but this departure sucks and will continue to be felt for a long time (I feel I have no ability to complain, I've done this to others and I'll do it again). A few people in my life are in ill health and they are far away from me and there is so little I can do other than be anxious about them. I am scared all the creative parts of my brain have floated away and need to be rebuilt. I suppose I am placing the first building block of that new creativity by writing this in one sitting at ten pm on the couch in my apartment with the balcony door wide open. I think the crisp new air is bringing in something special. I have less anxiety for the descent into Fall/Winter than I have in previous years, in part because I think that many big things are going to happen in the coming months. In my contentment with many aspects of my life, I think I am finally in a position to say yes to opportunities, to be a good community member. I feel loved and fulfilled2 in many different ways and I'm eager to contribute to the world in self-centred ways (making my silly creative projects) and not so self-centred ways (upcoming election volunteering! community projects!). I'll report back on how things go. And in the interest of being a good community member... I have some emails to reply to from some of you lovely folks that read this blog, and I have some emails to send to some cool new people I've found online over the last bit. All coming soon! I leave you with rabbits, rabbits, rabbits3 on this first day of September. yours, sam watching the sunset w/ Brie ##### reply or comment here. 1. Reading the Personal Archives from the Syllabus Project and working my way through that right now...you might find it cool too.↩ 2. Reflecting that feeling loved and fulfilled in this bizarre little life and world is really awesome. What a treasure and a blessing to be able to say that. I can't think about it too hard or I feel a bit teary.↩ 3. wikipedia article for you↩

A few weeks ago I was stuck in the white-hot edge-of-suburban July, back in my hometown and struggling to hold on to my sense of reality. My hometown and the surrounding areas within which I used to romp are not inherently bad places. They are clean and safe, but they are under no stretch of the imagination likely to be considered very remarkable. Despite this, a total body transformation always overtakes me upon my return. I become irritable, depressed, acting upon old compulsions, filled with teenage malaise. My routines are upturned and I lament having to drive everywhere. I listen to old songs that make me feel quite bad. I remember so deeply in my bones what it felt like to have nowhere else to go. Waiting and waiting for the years to pass until I would leave for a place that could feel better, but there was no guarantee. The memory of that feeling comforts present-day me because despite how out-of-body I might have felt being there back in July, at least I know now that home is somewhere else and it is solid and real and filled with 'my' people and 'my' things. Living in a big city these days, I find myself less and less in the company of people who come from smaller places. There are a handful of former suburbanites who sort of understand these feelings, but I have found a real lack of people who can really get it, those who understand that grey curtain that can enshroud an upbringing in a small place. I know this isn't a rare experience, certainly there are millions of people who have gone from their small hometowns to big cities to thrive, but I have seen very few depictions of this that have felt true to my experience. I have been left to grapple with what the past was like, all on my own. Just before going back, I watched a movie called Drinking and Driving. It's by two Canadian filmmakers called Avalon Fast and Jillian Frank. The film is currently beginning to be picked up for distribution and it has only played a few film festivals in North America and Europe for now. D&D grabbed me by the throat — it depicts all these feelings and memories in a way that feels extremely eerie to me, too close for comfort. The movie follows two girls in their 20s, friends who live in a little town and spend most of their time going to parties and working and sleeping with their weird friends and running into the same people over and over again. They drink because that sounds like fun, and hang out in parking lots and go to the water on their days off. Every scene of this film feels familiar: dancing around at a kind of lame party with some guy you sort of know DJing under a half covered porch, off-putting encounters in the basements of random houses, sleeping on a trampoline, talking to your best friend about the life you are living and how there is nowhere else to go. There is some sort of open joy mixed with a passive sadness in all this. The film is not wholly anything. It's exactly what it is like to drive around, in loops forever, with people you love and people you don't. When does it end? When do you stop drinking and driving? Can you? I guess I believe that you have to leave your hometown. Part of me is ashamed I couldn’t make it work, I feel like I didn’t fight hard enough to make my life different. I could have broken the mold and stayed around and maybe that would have been better. Could it have been? In writing this I am thinking about twelve-year-old me, splayed on the floor of my room and dreaming about every possibility under the sun. She cannot access public transit, she sees the water only in a nearby man-made drainage pond that people go to swim in. It’s almost like freedom, with the forest right at the edge of the string of houses, so dense and large that you really could walk into it and go hundreds of kilometres before you’d come out the other end. The forest impedes the dreaming. It’s like not being able to see past your own nose. Maybe in one of those day-dreamed possibilities was indeed an alternate reality, in which I am going to the same parties and seeing the same people over and over. Or maybe I'm at the local gym's pilates classes every week and I am overly worried about my weight. I have a good job that I will keep for 30 years and that will sustain me throughout my marriage and the early lives of my children. My friends’ lives all look identical to mine and we talk mostly about the new restaurant that opened up down the street and what cars we can buy. It feels tiring and so foreign and who am I then? I suppose I am finding something different for myself now, something that feels utopian. A different type of future. One that feels less like pretending. (A caveat in writing this is that there is a lot that is hard to say without feeling like I would hurt someone's feelings. I had a really happy childhood. I love my joyful family very much. I had and still have very good friends from these places. But in my head it always all came back to being in my early 20s, looking around, driving down the highway and thinking shit, I’m still here?) People always demand explanations of me for large life changes, why move, why change jobs, why pick these people, why choose the more inconvenient option? The frustrating truth for you is that I don't actually have much of a rational explanation for these things. I think the way I grew up always left me wanting something else and so I have gone in search of it. I want the pure joy. And so I have left and I know in my heart that I will leave again. In my current reality, I am not looking back. yours, s post title from here: Interstate 8 by Modest Mouse ##### reply or comment here. p.s. go see drinking and driving once it is at a theatre near you.

A few weeks ago I was stuck in the white-hot edge-of-suburban July, back in my hometown and struggling to hold on to my sense of reality. My hometown and the surrounding areas within which I used to romp are not inherently bad places. They are clean and safe, but they are under no stretch of the imagination likely to be considered very remarkable. Despite this, a total body transformation always overtakes me upon my return. I become irritable, depressed, acting upon old compulsions, filled with teenage malaise. My routines are upturned and I lament having to drive everywhere. I listen to old songs that make me feel quite bad. I remember so deeply in my bones what it felt like to have nowhere else to go. Waiting and waiting for the years to pass until I would leave for a place that could feel better, but there was no guarantee. The memory of that feeling comforts present-day me because despite how out-of-body I might have felt being there back in July, at least I know now that home is somewhere else and it is solid and real and filled with 'my' people and 'my' things. Living in a big city these days, I find myself less and less in the company of people who come from smaller places. There are a handful of former suburbanites who sort of understand these feelings, but I have found a real lack of people who can really get it, those who understand that grey curtain that can enshroud an upbringing in a small place. I know this isn't a rare experience, certainly there are millions of people who have gone from their small hometowns to big cities to thrive, but I have seen very few depictions of this that have felt true to my experience. I have been left to grapple with what the past was like, all on my own. Just before going back, I watched a movie called Drinking and Driving. It's by two Canadian filmmakers called Avalon Fast and Jillian Frank. The film is currently beginning to be picked up for distribution and it has only played a few film festivals in North America and Europe for now. D&D grabbed me by the throat — it depicts all these feelings and memories in a way that feels extremely eerie to me, too close for comfort. The movie follows two girls in their 20s, friends who live in a little town and spend most of their time going to parties and working and sleeping with their weird friends and running into the same people over and over again. They drink because that sounds like fun, and hang out in parking lots and go to the water on their days off. Every scene of this film feels familiar: dancing around at a kind of lame party with some guy you sort of know DJing under a half covered porch, off-putting encounters in the basements of random houses, sleeping on a trampoline, talking to your best friend about the life you are living and how there is nowhere else to go. There is some sort of open joy mixed with a passive sadness in all this. The film is not wholly anything. It's exactly what it is like to drive around, in loops forever, with people you love and people you don't. When does it end? When do you stop drinking and driving? Can you? I guess I believe that you have to leave your hometown. Part of me is ashamed I couldn’t make it work, I feel like I didn’t fight hard enough to make my life different. I could have broken the mold and stayed around and maybe that would have been better. Could it have been? In writing this I am thinking about twelve-year-old me, splayed on the floor of my room and dreaming about every possibility under the sun. She cannot access public transit, she sees the water only in a nearby man-made drainage pond that people go to swim in. It’s almost like freedom, with the forest right at the edge of the string of houses, so dense and large that you really could walk into it and go hundreds of kilometres before you’d come out the other end. The forest impedes the dreaming. It’s like not being able to see past your own nose. Maybe in one of those day-dreamed possibilities was indeed an alternate reality, in which I am going to the same parties and seeing the same people over and over. Or maybe I'm at the local gym's pilates classes every week and I am overly worried about my weight. I have a good job that I will keep for 30 years and that will sustain me throughout my marriage and the early lives of my children. My friends’ lives all look identical to mine and we talk mostly about the new restaurant that opened up down the street and what cars we can buy. It feels tiring and so foreign and who am I then? I suppose I am finding something different for myself now, something that feels utopian. A different type of future. One that feels less like pretending. (A caveat in writing this is that there is a lot that is hard to say without feeling like I would hurt someone's feelings. I had a really happy childhood. I love my joyful family very much. I had and still have very good friends from these places. But in my head it always all came back to being in my early 20s, looking around, driving down the highway and thinking shit, I’m still here?) People always demand explanations of me for large life changes, why move, why change jobs, why pick these people, why choose the more inconvenient option? The frustrating truth for you is that I don't actually have much of a rational explanation for these things. I think the way I grew up always left me wanting something else and so I have gone in search of it. I want the pure joy. And so I have left and I know in my heart that I will leave again. In my current reality, I am not looking back. yours, s post title from here: Interstate 8 by Modest Mouse ##### reply or comment here. p.s. go see drinking and driving once it is at a theatre near you.

This June was characterized by a complete lack of intentional writing in my journal. I have nothing but fragments. June was distracted, out of my head, thinking about the easy things and avoiding thinking about the difficult ones. I have been moving through the world without much thought and remembering absolutely nothing. Months like this seem to happen maybe once a year, blurring a whole bunch of days together into something that feels less remarkable than it really is. I'm never sure what triggers the descent into this stupor, and usually the only thing that can pull me out of it is getting back to writing again. What follows here is a public display of my journal fragments guiding me back to myself. [fragment: june 7] > I'll be honest and say that I'm undecided on my opinion about LA the city, but I loved LA the people. An impossible city to know but yet somehow containing so much warmth. So large and car-centric, I don't know how you could live here successfully. It's big and empty, like a sunny void. Closed and shuttered stores. No "town centre", everyone indoors in their own houses and cars. Something wrong/empty, like it's not supposed to look that way. There's a discomfort in how spread out it all is. Leon and I went to L.A. It was my first time ever on the West coast of the US. I had long wanted to avoid traveling to California for a few extremely silly reasons. Number one being that [REDACTED FOR PRIVACY] was from there and I didn't want to do anything that would impact the sort of mythical status she occupied in my brain. I didn't want to make her more human. She was young and golden in my memory, smiling at me on the sunniest beach in the world. By going to her home state it felt like I was unlocking information about her without her consent. I didn't want to know California because I didn't want to have any more clues about her background, the life she so desperately ran from. Number two was that I feared a personal schism of sorts. LA was full of people like me in a way that most of Canada really is not. I was concerned that spending time in LA would make me crave a new reality I'd never had before. That it would make me mourn a sort of life that I'd never had and cause me to rethink a lot of aspects of my identity. Both these reasons are of course deeply foolish. It was time to go. J was graduating from his master's program and throwing a big party and so of course we headed South to celebrate. We did very few touristy type things in LA, other than our frequent visits to In-N-Out. My visit was characterized by people and not by geography. I was delighted to see a new side of Leon - looking more relaxed than I had ever seen him back home, and filled with a really infectious sense of joy. I was extremely grateful for his willingness to show me around town - I would have been completely in shambles without him. In tour guide mode, Leon showed me a few sides of LA, from los callejones to Santa Monica Pier. Meeting J for the first time was also so delightful. He exudes warmth and I was honoured to be invited to what was truly the party of the century (you know it's good when the LAPD has to shut it down). There are lessons from LA I will be taking back home, all of them concerning family, dancing, and joy. In following the theme of lost june, I wish I had film photos to show you here, but I haven't gotten anything developed yet. Another post on LA likely incoming soon. --- [fragment: june 2] > Chantal Akerman says in her memoir "Love makes you hang around." Before she even knew what love was, she was hanging around. Inconvenience is part of love. Am I such a sap as Akerman? "Yes, of course." is the answer - but you knew this. The full quote from the book: "As for me, I always hung around in the street after school because of love. Love makes you hang around. I used to walk a girl a couple of years above me to the Gare du Luxembourg. We would talk for a long time, she would miss one train, sometimes two, to talk to me for longer, even when it was raining. I can't remember what we talked about. […] She always ended up getting on a train and I would always return home. I didn't know what love was at the time. But that was surely it." Even when I don't feel present I'm still hanging around. Kind of a chronic hanging around girl. Yes, this is a way that I love. --- [fragment: june 21] > Where has the month gone? I couldn't tell you what has happened, but things have been good. Have they been? In July as I write this, I hope that they were, but I can't remember. --- [fragment: undated] > We had a 9 course meal with M in the two days before he moved back to Quebec. It was M's favourite meal of all time. I thought the mussels were good, I'd rank that in my top 5 of all dishes I've ever eaten in my whole life. I watched them play catch in the park after. In the way that summer is always melancholic of course the weather is beautiful even though a friend is leaving town forever. I have been spending a lot of time lying down on beaches and in parks and looking at people, strangers and friends. Spending so much time horizontal has probably also made June more passive than active. I am not the one running these days, I am sitting and waiting for a situation to happen. I am waiting for the sun to set, I am waiting for something new to happen. --- [fragment: june 27] > I absolutely have to call my mom today. I am trying to think about all the reasons why I would go so long without writing and mainly it's when I get this passive apathy about me - like I'm just existing from day to day and I don't have the energy to do anything. In the same way that lost months are a product of my lack of writing, they are also a product of me not calling my mom. I need to stay grounded and my mother reminds me who I am. Her advice is good, but the longer I am away from her the longer I wonder if her advice is accurate. She no longer has a perfect mental portrait of my life, despite all I tell her. I start to fear that her advice doesn't capture the nuances I wish it did. I am seeing her soon in person and this will be a more effective way to be pulled out my June headspace. --- [undated] > Z says this is good for me. Everything to teach me a lesson, everything in its right place. I am glad to to see her again and glad to be writing again. I don't know myself without writing myself down. Z came to Vancouver to see me for four days and I loved having her here. We were both working a few days and it rained and I admit to having much lower energy than I wish I had had because of the entire lost June thing. I credit her visit with getting me back to a more stable place. [fragment: june 30] > all things consumed in june and mixed together. holding on to as much as possible. Films: Jackass: Best and Last (2026, dir. Jeff Tremaine), Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997, dir. Jay Roach), Frisk (1995, dir. Todd Verow), Lurker (2025, dir. Alex Russell), My Dinner with Andre (1981, dir. Louis Malle), The Social Network (2010, dir. David Fincher), The Serpent's Skin (2025, dir. Alice Maio Mackay), My Mother Laughs by Chantal Akerman, Mutual Aid: Building Solidarity During This Crisis (And The Next) by Dean Spade, Enemy Feminisms: TERFs, Policewomen, and Girlbosses Against Liberation by Sophie Lewis With any luck at all, I've awoken for July. The blogging has helped. yours, s ##### reply or comment here.