I've been back in Ottawa since December, my little sister asked me to come home for Christmas and I couldn't say no. The California adventure is still fresh in my mind and revelations will emerge eventually. For now, Ottawa updates. Soon after returning home, my friend Roxanne and I indulged in some fun substances and she proposed to me, and I said yes. Last year we lived together for a few months, and although it was hot and romantic, it was open and free. The band that Roxanne gave me is an open one, (I think it used to be spoon) and I've worn it every days since she asked me. We'll probably have a celebration of our love in august of 2012, maybe on december 21st. The party will be a celebration of our love, nothing legal or too binding, all magic love.
Come to think of that, that was an interesting day. A few hours before the magic, I was at St Patrick's Basilica, catching the tail end of Alex Zulpis' funeral. Alex was tragically run over by his best friend Jack, Brian Tobin's son. Thinking the funeral was at the cathedral next to the Art Gallery, I only caught the very end; walking out I got to say hello to a number of middle school friends that I hadn't seen in a year or longer, all home for Christmas. Some of us hadn't seen Alex in ages either, but we'd all been pals in the 7th grade, so it was a strange sort of reunion.
The sidewalk was packed with mourners and soon the pack depleted as folks headed towards the reception at a nearby hotel. A pretty reporter lady with a microphone asked the group of three tall men I was standing with if any of us had any words we'd like Alex to be remembered by. "NO comment" all around. I had fond memories of Alex so I agreed. Didn't have too much to say, it had been ... let's see here, high school, then university, 12 or 13 years since we'd actually hung out, and even then we weren't that close, but I gave my best shot. I spoke about how he had a great wit, a radiant energy and quick way with words. My fondest memories of him were while snowboarding with the ski club, and one faithful day in grade eight when a largish group of people came to my house for lunch and we all ended up getting suspended.
Relating my memories, I noticed more reporters noticing me and walking over. Soon the crowd of mourners were all but dispersed, leaving only me and a gaggle of reporters. Curiously, there was someone named Remi Cossette who was also answering question, "no we're not related". I was giving as in-depth answers as possible, getting frustrated eventually, they felt like vultures, all asking similar questions trying to pry emotional responses from me. Speaking in french then repeating myself in English, by the time they were done with me, the crowd was all gone and I stated making my way to the hotel.
Shaggy dog max...
The grade 7 crew all caught up, we ate some awesome sandwiches then it was back to the apartment.