I have various kinds of news, but I also have loads and loads of work to do.

But the big one: I have put down a deposit on an apartment. It is the third floor of a house, the rent represents much less than half of my projected monthly income, it is in the Bloor-Ossington region (which effectively halves my commute), and it has a balcony. The living room is a decent size, the bedroom with comfortably hold a double, and it has a gas stove in the tiny tiny kitchen. So excited, so scared.

I am looking forward to filling the place with furniture and knicknacks. (I’m thinking of doing a record-cover wall-hanging, as seen in the new Bust with really cheap albums. Possibly all Nana Mouskouri.)



I have to write two essays in the next week, plus write a totally impossible test.

Hey, remember when I conceived, researched and wrote an entire essay in two days, start to finish? I got an A-. Everytime I promise myself I will not pull stunts such as conceiving, researching and writing an entire essay in two days, something like this happens, and I decide not to change my ways because things always work out in the end.

In other news, why did no one ever tell me about April March? Francophile indiepop! I feel like the world has been holding out on me.