green_line epitome of incomprehensibility Today was all about being green: the lime line of Montreal's subway and the slight lime light of a rainy climate march. It went something like... Early train in the rain. Chain café for a chai, writing. (Misplaced modifier? Eh, maybe the tea was writing too.) The metro to St. Laurent for Blue Metropolis: a talk about From Green to Gray. That book, an anthology of climate-related stories and personal essays, was sold out. Didn't get to the bookstore place soon enough (the book festival was in a hotel and the directions a little confusing sometimes - okay, for me). Instead, I got a book of short stories by Cora Siré called Fear the Mirror - I liked her poetry book Not in Vain You've Sent Me Light. The metro to Atwater: phone-ology at the mall. Good news after anxiety: it turns out I don't have to get a new phone with chatr. Yet. I got a message a few weeks ago saying the 3G network was being "retired" and I needed a new device that was compatible with the 4G network. Yesterday, I tried to buy a rather pricey but discounted phone in the online store. Sold out. Remaining, a cheaper but badly reviewed machine. Frustration. Then, today, the person at the in-person kiosk checked my SIM card and said, actually, this one *is* still compatible. The mass text message had apparently cast too wide a net. So I thanked him for his honesty and apologized that I wouldn't be buying a new phone now after all. No problem, he said, gracious. The metro to Guy-Concordia: I went to the Hall building's mezzanine, ate a lunch I brought. Wrote a little. The metro to Place-des-Arts: joined the climate march in the rainy square outside. To prevent aimlessness, fell in with the Green Party. The people there mostly knew each other and didn't make a lot of effort to include me in talk, but I did chat with an older couple who came out all the way from Brossard. But I got a sign! Dad wanted a sign. Cardboard, green: VOTE VERT. Encouragement: a small boy shouting "Protéger la planète!" A little dog, tail wagging, sniffing my left hand in hello. Annoyance: my feet got progressively wetter. I checked the time when I didn't have to. When I did have to... Shit. Running late. Running, late. Running to Blue Met in the rain. I got to the 2:30 talk ten minutes late, missing the poet I knew and only catching the memoirist I didn't. Well, I don't know the poet, but I admire her book Hypotheticals, which I bought a few years ago. Leigh Kotsilidis. She sat in front, slight and light-brown-haired in appearance. Like me, I thought. Another attendee looked like Sarah Bernstein, who also looks like me, just prettier. I look like other writers: this is why I can't find lookalike celebrities. Maybe writers have a certain look. A_rounder_nose than Miley Cyrus, for instance. ...Stop it! Focus, Kirsten, focus. The memoirist's writing style doesn't click with me, so I don't buy the book afterwards, but her story is fascinating: going from a busy-buzzy job with an environmental nonprofit to living "in a cabin in the woods" - applying her eco-knowledge to her personal life while trying to unlearn the perfectionism that had sapped her energy. Not everyone can shift their lives just like that, most people can't afford to, but the following applies widely: You can't do everything. You can do something. Metro to De l'Église, flexing still-wet feet: outside, the rain has stopped for a while. I walk towards tea at Chat Noir. Carrot cake too, out of hunger and celebration (logic: I'll spend a bit of money to celebrate not having to spend a lot). I write. Metro to Lionel-Groulx. Bye, green line. It's the orange line to the train. Still, that's a lot of green line. Train: I write. Training. Overheard_on_a_train. I finish my scene and start another scene with dialogue, but I don't know where it's going. I know where I'm going. Pine_Beach. Hazy indecisive sky. 250426 ... e_o_i Gah, it's overheard_on_THE_train. Indecisive sky, but definite article. 250426 what's it to you? who go blather from