I cut my foot rather bad. I was hanging out before work and noticed there was blood on the floor ("There's blood on my hands, there's blood on my hands.") So I was late getting in, I probably looked like I was on drugs, pale and shaky. They made me go to the doctor. $100! Bastards. It's the first time I've ever gotten stitches. The doc was kinda cool, explained everything, answered all my questions. Not too bad. And I got the next day off work. I might be here past the 28th. I'll miss my birthday, which will suck ass, but whatever. It's good to see how other places work. So much has happened, I wish I had a laptop or a diary so I could have been making more notes. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I took it anyway. I find myself in the same situations as before, drinking too late and indulging in the vices inherent to such habitats. It didn't take me long to become a native. I've already met a dozen or more people (and didn't bother to get their phone numbers) just like home. At some point, I need to make a timeline so I can remember what has happened here.

A street protest, 30,000 strong. "Tout la Canada!"
A crime scene, blood but no body. Very few rubberneckers but dozens of cops.
Cut my foot open, first trip to a doctor in many years.
Record setting cold and snow. The sky is falling.
The tallest building left in the world, I think. This huge needle thing looming over the skyline. (When you can see the sky.)
I hope I survive this. I'm sure it won't take too much. I have to remember to budget so I can pay rent.