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so this is Paris

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

I flew to T/O today, and met my girlfriend at the airport. Then we bolted from the city, and headed to Paris, Ontario. It's a small town near the 80's-minted conglomerate town of Cambridge, where the country's Toyotas are made. It's situated along the Grand river, and is one of those towns where the old core has somehow survived the onslaught of highways and suburban shopping. We found a funky refurbished old-style downtown hotel with high ceilings and decent appointments. We're pleased.

It's very good to be here. My girlfriend and I haven't seen each other since my birthday, which was almost a month ago. We'd been through a bit of a rocky patch what with the demands of our jobs and the 1000 kilometres that separate us.

It's really funny how miserable Toronto is. You don't really get it while you're living there - I should know, I put in some six-and-a-half years, all told - but once you go back you see how up-tight and pushy everyone is. It took me only minutes to see it after arrival; while sorting out the car rental, the guy in the next line blew a gasket over nothing.