Another year missing the Jazz Festival. If I had Rehkas number, I would have dialed her it so fast I would have broken buttons.

For some reason I can’t get the last show I did at the Cultch out of my head today. The Artists Against War Red Cross Fundraiser, hosted by Felix Culpa. I suppose it’s running into Bill on Canada Day. He looked so broken. He looked maybe a tiny piece of how I felt that night. Running the back stage – something like thirty theatre companies – then a hall full of congratulation and animated conversation, and I sitting on a stool in the back corner. Staring at the pale wooden floor and knowing I’m not allowed to talk to anyone. The one moment where I would have run off with another man. Thank you, I love you, for calling me out onto the stage to feel the applause. He wouldn’t face the audience until I stood out beside him. I wanted to hold his hand as we swept into bow, but I knew Bill was watching.

I have something for Davids son somewhere. I think I saw it while unpacking, but for the life of me, I cannot remember what it was. Something I thought highly appropriate for a young boy. I know Bill’s apparently working on the new Felix Culpa performance in the works, so I don’t know what the relationship might have shifted to. Knowledge of our break-up. When I find my little object, I’ll go leave it on the doorstep with a note.