The City Fellas

Hello, hi. My curls love Montreal. I woke up this morning with a new lightness and real sense of hope. Enough of both that they are worth putting into writing, alhamduliLah.

And, I wrangled my way through a chunk of the ReaI Madr1d team. Random. Welcome. Don’t ask me who, but know this – each one of them is ridiculous on the eyes, with million watt smiles. How much? It would have been appropriate for me to yell TAKBEER, and then answer my own self with an Allahu Akbar!

Rawda sandwiched my day, with an 830 breakfast and an 830 start to a typically Montreal-styled evening that is about to see us well into this very late night. One of the greatest things about Montreal is that it really doesn’t sleep, but this sleeplessness doesn’t stress you out like the sleeplessness of other cities of this nature where people leave yoga classes in a state of stress and in a rush to get to the right place at the right time and be seen doing so with the right people. (My friends in this unnamed city don’t fit this bill; in fact, none of my friends in any city anywhere fit this bill because I don’t befriend insufferable assholes with a fomo complex.)

Where was I? Oh, right. The filing of my day was courtesy of strangers – boy, I had forgotten how friendly and not creepy Montreal men are (hi! You’re great!) – and my Elisabeth, whom I had not seen in two years because we kept missing one another.

Days are long and nights are short here. It’s exactly what I needed. Now, I gotta get back to my girl.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Athletes. My type has always been Pretty Boy Jocks. I know, I know. Don’t judge me! There are nine kinds of intelligence! Quite gladly, they are my weakness.
2. Engaging fellas.
3. Chucks. You make my feet happy, thank you.

Montreal | Day 230 | July 18, 2019

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