A few people have noted that my journal has not been updated. This was not due to a lack of trying, however; only wiggly connexions at the Camp Office prevented me from succeding and I hadn't copied the text elsewhere so it was lost. Tonight, I am not doing anything at the office, nor am I unduly bogged down in work - I'm working, just not with a deadline looming out of the dark night before me. And it is dark, isn't it? Despite the glorious weather over the last few days, the city is swallowed into blackness just past 7pm. How very sad. Soon enough, we'll all be winding back our clocks and then it will be all the darker.

Regardless of the brightness outside my door, I've been working my butt off on various things since my return from New York. What is it that they say? No sleep for the wicked? I am not sure I am exactly wicked, but I am wickedly busy. I've been jumping from the ROM to the office, back home (where I work) and then back to the office on a regular basis. I've been out canvassing in the evening and at the crack of dawn. I am actually making some money doing this, too, which doesn't hurt - thank God for contract work. It does certainly eat into personal time, though, and my whole life now pretty much revolves around campaign socialising and events. I am enjoying it very much, even if my stress level has sky-rocketed. I was speaking to Nick last night and we discussed the merits of me going for counselling, if for no other reason than to learn some coping mechanisms for everything that is going on.

Anyway, I should get on to talking about New York in all its wonderfulness and sadness. The first three days that I was there have sort of blurred as they were the hardest ones to get through. I took the red-eye bus to NYC and arrived just at the beginning of rush-hour. In retrospect, perhaps I should have taken a cab to Alfred's apartment, but I was too tired to care and it's not like I'm afraid of the subway. We went for breakfast upon my arrival near to 7:30am and then I took a nap for a few hours. It was hard sleeping in the room and bed that used to belong to Robert and for the first few nights, I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke from my nap, Don, Robert's good friend had arrived and once I was dressed and ready, the three of us walked to the funeral parlour. There we met friends and family over a few hours with a break for dinner. People kept saying, "Oh, doesn't he look good," in response to seeing Robert laid out in the casket. I politely agreed with them, but the whole time I kept thinking, "He doesn't look anything like how I remember him... Actually, he looks dead."

The following day was the funeral held at the family church. It was a nice service, I suppose, but I didn't find it particularly moving. I guess I rarely do at the funerals themselves. It is at the wakes, viewings, shivas, etc., when everyone is interacting and reminising that I feel the pangs. Or, if they play Ave Maria. One thing I learned is that if it isn't Christmas, I do not know any of the songs. Most people were singing along with the hymns and prayers, and there I was, front pew, thinking that somehow my choir education was lacking because it did not include enough non-Christmas music. Nevermind that it was a secular choir in the first place.

Following the funeral, once everyone had hugged and cried and said their good byes outside of the church, Don, Alfred and I went around the corner for breakfast. There, due to the stress, Alfred had a seizure. Now, I want to set something straight here. There is this weird myth about how New Yorkers ignore each other and what not, but when Alfred collapsed, three different people immediately came to his (and our) aid. One called the paramedics immediately, one sprang up to get him some orange juice, and one helped us get Alfred outside and make him more comfortable. Then there were several others who just buzzed around trying to be helpful, both inside the diner and out on the street. Sadly, having seen things happen on the streets of Toronto where I have been the only one to react (like when someone hit a homeless man in the street and drove away), I know that if any city deserves a reputation for ignoring those in need, it's definitely NOT New York. Anyway, returning to the story, I got to see upper Manhattan disappear behind us from the back of an ambulance.

All was well once Alfred was dosed with his anti-seizure medication and had some food put in him. Don and I took him home and watched him to make sure he was alright and when it was clear that he was going to be just fine, Don went home. The following day, Friday, I did things around the house, including cleaning the bathroom from top to bottom. I simply aimed to be helpful and supportive, but Alfred spent most of the day on the phone talking to well-wishers and friends. A neighbour in his building brought him some dinner and as I went out to buy suplies, people in the hall and on the stoop asked me how he was doing.

Anyway, I was in New York until the following Wednesday, and I didn't spend my whole time in the apartment or with Don and Alfred. Originally I was meaning to come home on the Sunday night, then I extended it to the Tuesday morning in order to appease Gina, my half-sister who couldn't visit with me on the weekend like I had hoped. Finally, I was persuaded by Don to stay one more day after that in order to be around when Alfred had a series of tests run at the hospital. They would have kept me around longer had they their way, but I was serving as a distraction from the real business of getting on with things and dealing with the pain. Besides, I do have responsibilities here in Toronto, not the least of them, my cat.

I visited with the younger of my two half-sisters, Nicole, on the Saturday. She, her grandmother, and I wandered around the not entirely charming area of Brooklyn known as Flatbush and De Kalb (not pronounced as I thought as "dah cob", but as "dee khay-lbh"). Now, this did involve a trip to Junior's (home of the world's greatest cheesecake, which I sadly did not have room enough to try), and the city has been trying to fix things up a bit planting bushes and trees in what had been a desolate land of concrete and more concrete. I helped Nicole shop for school uniform shirts, picking out a gorgeous one that she went on to where first thing on Monday after our visit. I dragged her into shoe stores, of which there are many across all of New York, and we made fun of the really weird 80s-inspired trash-rock stiletto boots and other things. Nicole does have a good sense of humour even if she is often too shy to actually open her mouth. One utterly remarkable thing about her are her eyes. She inherited Papa's amazing almond-shaped eyes with the thick, long, black eyelashes, except unlike Gina, myself or even Papa himself, her eyes are blue. We all have nice eyes, deep and sad, but hers are AMAZING.

I have no idea how I spent my Sunday, but I think it involved a lot of hanging out around the apartment and resting. I know I really started to feel at home at that point, though. I visited with Gina on Monday, again with her grandmother in tow. We went to Prospect park, the big park in the middle of Brooklyn that was designed by the same guys who created Central Park (and also High Park, here in Toronto, from what I understand). It's a real gem in Brooklyn. It's big and rolling with wild areas and sports fields, a lake and Botanical gardens. We explored a strange building in the middle of nothing, called the Tennis House, I think, and I surmised that perhaps, once there were tennis courts near by. Gina and I experimented with eating acorns (not entirely revolting by the way and perhaps tasty if roasted) as well as salty pretzels, hot dogs and icecream all from the same vendor. New York really understands what a street vendor should be. Yum.

On Tuesday, I brought Alfred with me to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It's almost directly across Central Park from his home. We could have walked, and I have walked it, but his feet and ankles ain't what they used to be so we took a cab. Cabs, by the way, are pretty reasonable to ride in there. At first he wasn't sure how much fun he was going to have, but I did want him to get out and be distracted. I, in fact, had a migraine that day (I had two while I was there, I suppose because of the emotional stress), but I was certainly not going to balk. Anyway, as soon as we went in, I got distracted too (and the double dose of meds didn't hurt either) and we ended up having a blast. We did the entire, vast Egyptian collection, at least what was open of it, they like the ROM are renovating, so there might actually be more than what we saw. Let me say this: Holy crap do they have mummies. Out the wazoo, if you know what I mean. We also enjoyed the extensive Medieval arts section and armouries (I liked the armoury in Philadelphia better, on a side note) and finally we wandered throught he gorgeous historic American room lay-outs. There was one that came out of an old mansion in Buffalo, NY, back when people didn't make fun of the city, that blew us away. Following that, I took Alfred for a fantastic dinner at a place near his apartment called, French Roast, where we feasted on mussels and the most incredible hamburgers I have ever eaten.

I spent Wednesday packing up and addressing envelopes for Alfred while he was at the hospital with Don. He came back and was deemed to be all clear and we had a final dinner out on the town. They also took me to the store that Winners wants to be and really fails at, Filene's Basement. Now THAT is an incredible bargain store. First of all, it is laid out nicely and looks like a real department store, it carries a full selection of name and designer brands that run the course of style and fashion, AND it has a FULL selection of sizes including plus and petit. Yes, Winners, which I have only ever found to suck, has a lot to learn from Filene's Basement. Anyway, Alfred decided to buy presents for me to take back to Mom (jewellery and some incredible cashmere and fur-lined leather gloves) and Don insisted on buying me something, too, so I got a fine pair of lined, wool pants. I'd been there earlier in the week, too, when I bought myself some excellent jewellery and some terribly exciting Sesame Street panties. I went on a panties/bra binge while I was there. I experienced Victoria's Secret for the first time, too, and the bras... *swoon* Wow. Anyway, following our shopping excursion, we all took a cab to the Port Authority and they saw me off at the bus terminal.

You can see how it was both incredibly sad and kind of scary, as well as wonderful and enjoyable, too. I have even left many things out that made the trip so special, but my fingers are getting tired. I have a standing invitation to return whenever I want, and I hope to do so following the Municipal Election. I would like very much to help Alfred clean up his place, repaint it, etc. His place needs it, as does he. I hope I can afford to go back for that. It has also caused me to reconsider moving there, an idea that I had put away in the closet when I realised that the computer animation dream was fading. Well, I am considering it again, though not for the next half-year at least, and everything sort of rests on what happens in the election.

Anyway, there is a not-so-brief update that has been a long time coming and now I must return to what I was doing when I started this an hour ago. By the way, I have updated my sci-fi gallery in Elfwood and I have a new gallery where I can post any form of art (including poetry and photography) as well at DeviantArt.