Katie Leggitt

Those moments you catch yourself doing something terribly human are priceless in terms of honoring your spirit and taking a step forward. We're just a bunch of silly animals trying to get along and be happy ya know? My friend accidentally started humming the Wedding March while browsing pictures of a cutie she likes.  PRICELESS. I puffed up my peacock tail last night at a swanky little joint trying to impress someone sitting in the corner.  Brought me right back to high school when I'd break into my Molly Shannon impression for a dude 3 grades older than me in the hopes he'd catch a glimpse and instantly realize I'm exactly what his life needed.  :) I'm in a lighthearted mood and these are the best times to have a good laugh at your own expense.  Life needn't be SO SERIOUS all the time.  Those times I feel like banging my head on the wall repeatedly because of some failure is totally funny right now.  It's not in the moment, but when clarity sends a

It seems the unhappier you get, the higher the expectations for the life that surrounds you get.  As if anything outside of yourself should lift your mood, when really you're the one responsible for it. The last couple of days have been completely self-indulgent. Christmas better mean family, good food, Bailey's and dieter's downfall, and if anything is amiss, then it's spoiled, right?  Well that was my truth and thank god my bro had Baileys and that my sister brought some dieter's downfall (the absolute most decadent and fattening dessert ever) because otherwise I would have been dissatisfied with the holiday. It's December 27th now, and time to get things going in preparation for the new year.  I spent a few hours reading a great book called Spirit Junkie by Gabrielle Bernstein.  You should read it. It allowed me to reflect about the year I've had.  Off the top of my head, 2013 wasn't the best of years for me but that was my superficial assumpt

I just watched Blackfish, a documentary about Killer Whales at Seaworld, and it's got me all emotional. That, and the beauty of this season. The snow, the Christmas lights, the snowplows, the wine glasses, the family laughter, the hugs, the gifts, the ornaments... all of it. It didn't take me long to get into the hibernation of the holidays.  I spent all of yesterday and a good part of today on Netflix.  And it's worth the extra 30 dollars in streaming fees, even though it should only cost $8.  Nonetheless, I mustered the energy to get out and do some groceries in preparation for Christmas.  I make latkes for our family breakfast, and they go like the hotcakes they are.  Yum.  Walking in the cold, looking at people's lights, I felt all warm and cozy. A lot of childhood/adolescent memories have been flooding my mind as of late.  Part of me wonders if it's because of the solitude I tend to feel at this time of year, but it also makes me feel hopeful. A few y

I started writing this blog at the same time as I had started listening to the Suburbs by Arcade Fire.  It's cool to notice how they've evolved, much like I have.  A band has a pretty tough job, especially after you've produced such a great album in the past.  How do you measure up?  How do you stay loyal or do you go with what feels right?  I'm pretty sure Arcade Fire just follows their inspiration and so far I think Reflektor is a solid album. As a blog writer (ugh I don't like calling myself that, but there it is), I started off with a lot of momentum.  Post after post of what felt like gold to me, but over time the posts have become less and less frequent, and maybe the quality has slipped a bit, but hey, I'm human. Doing anything creative requires so much work!  Especially when it involves collaboration between people.  I can write anywhere because I have my own schedule to mind, but trying to schedule rehearsals among a diverse amount of people is a ch

I walked into my school this morning anticipating an onslaught of "WHY????s and pictured the hallways full of wide eyed kids looking at me crooked because of my new hair color.  It turned out to be a premonition and that's exactly what happened.  Some just ogled, jaw dropped, mouth open, like an exaggerated slow-motion cartoon segment.  As if I had shaved my head. I decided to use my new hair color as a basis for my class visits.  It turned out to be the perfect opener to talk about change and how to adapt to it. There were some pretty positive reviews, but most of the kids just said "you dyed your hair" with an upward inflection at the end that made it sound like a question.  Shock mostly. I went blonde in the summer for a movie.  I wound up really loving it and decided to keep it a little past the point my scenes were wrapped, which wasn't too long ago, actually.  But as the cooler winds have arrived and the Fall colors have disappeared, I decided it was

I'm tempted to do the math.  I'm tempted to sit down one day and make a list of all the dates I've been on.  And then mark a big red F next to each one. The sailor, the brick-wall kisser, the big friendly giant, the man who walked 500 miles to get to our date, the man who stole my heart, the one with the sweet tattoos, the one I never met, the list goes on and on. Normally, I'd look at all of these as giant failures, as if it was my fault.  As if there was something innately wrong with me, as though I was the one responsible for not having feelings for them.  Or blame them for not having feelings for me. Expectations.  EGGspectations... but I won't get into my biological clock just yet.  Not at all in fact. What it all boils down to is the spark.  Ain't got no spark?  It ain't gonna work out.  Don't fool yourself into believing that it will show up one day and be like, "hey let's do this.  I'm ready now."  It hasn't happened

When the clouds lift, the sun shines with the blue sky. "What if it will be sunny one day?" she asked herself.  It had been a year of overcast skies.  Day and night, unable to see the moon and the stars, she hoped one day the clouds would clear and she could reconnect with the elements that she loved so dearly. She knew the sun was behind it all.  She knew that some day that sun would have to shine again, but she became so preoccupied by the idea that she forgot to live today.  She forgot to get out of bed, put her shoes on and go outside.  She forgot to eat and to comb her hair.  She forgot about her family and friends, because surely they were stuck in the clouds as well. Instead she clung to her teddy and dreamed all day.  She dreamed about the sun casting its rays on the Earth, about the happiness she felt when the sun was there, feeling its warmth and a joy she only felt in her sleep. The phone would ring, people would call upon her, but she wouldn't move an

This is a journey. Twists and turns Love and burns This is a journey. Time passes so quickly when you're busy livin'.  So many words are trying to escape at the moment that I can't put them into a coherent sentence. Patience, challenge, triumph, forgiveness, courage, strength, compassion, risk, falling, overcoming, being, ending, beginning.  Always another beginning. A beginning to every day, to every feeling spoken, to every moment exchanged with another person, does it end when the sun goes down?  Does it end with a hug?  A walk away? My office door seemed to be revolving quite a bit today, people coming in to speak their minds, to tell me about guns being pointed at them or their hearts being broken for the first time.  Being bullied.  Being in love, being - being.  Being.  Look at that word, it's lost its meaning. In the blink of an eye, another year has passed, a year full of learning and self-realization. Wow.  Here's to 31. Dream

This morning I unloaded 3 bales of hay into the theatre, bringing the grand total of hay bales to 8. Seeing them on a downtown street stops people in their tracks.  They stare, smile and point, someone even snapped a picture. It's for this show I'm doing.  Producing, technically, and hosting, but a show that has been brewing in my brain ever since I got back from Nashville. It's amazing what professionals are able to do in a very short amount of time. My friend's mom was flying in from Calgary and she booked a date at the theatre which gave me exactly 3 1/2 weeks to put the show together.  We had been talking about it for many months, but I always postponed out of a lack of confidence.  So I thank her for lighting a fire under my arse and motivating me to do it. It's my first experience producing a show.  And thank god I'm surrounded by so many talented people, who also happen to have a very talented group of people surrounding them.  I just pictured a

I have such fond memories of the summer of 13.  I spent it with family in Victoria, after my parents got divorced.  A healthy distraction is what I needed, and luckily the divorce hadn't split my morals up and I remained able to safely navigate my way through some pretty serious situations. Graham was 28, or so the tale goes.  He had sandy red hair and freckles that seemed to distort his face, or maybe it was his creepy gummy voice that did it.  He was the local drugdealer who spent time at the lake in Langford, selling god-knows-what to unsuspecting teenagers. It was cast of characters.  There was Bunyon, who was 15 and had all the fixings for a future convict.  He had already been in trouble with the law, and I'll never forget the day he escaped the hold of a cop outside of Mac's.  We were hanging out there with our bikes and the cops showed up with their arrest warrant, and as he was being lead to the car, he twisted his wrist and took off into the woods.  I never sa

I had a love at first sight moment this summer.  It was during JFL, and I stepped outside of a venue and locked eyes with Mr. Magnificent.  I smiled, came back to reality and then took a few steps away, feeling stunned. Woah.  Did that just happen?  That was real, like it was understood, by both parties, what just happened.  Whoever we may have been in a past life were finally reunited and now we can start living again. Timing, moments drenched in fate, tiniest choices that lead us places, it all comes together in that magic exchange.  I do believe in love at first sight, but I should have just left it at that. Instead my curiosity piqued and I felt compelled to talk to the guy.  How could I let this opportunity pass me by?  This is it, I thought to myself, THIS IS IT. Well it wasn't it.  Ha.  Nope, just another Katie getting carried away moment, but I like to reinvent the exchange in my mind and pretend we're engaged and living in a house with a backyard and a garden n

I was most surprised by the foot-long piece of computer I found on the beach that morning. Not the pieces of plastic, not the rope, but this modern day technological junk.  Once state of the art, now, shipwrecked on the beach in New Brunswick.  The ocean spat it out. After a heavy storm, you're more likely to find unique pieces of ocean excess along the beach, aren't you?  That's the hope at least, thinking about the heavy winds and the big waves and what lies within its vastness.  What sort of treasures might wash ashore today? I've been flirting with the ocean in my meditations this week.  I've always felt a great deal of peace by the water, especially the ocean, and not only is my appreciation for it represented in two of my tattoos, but the coast is in my DNA. I see the debris before me.  Sometimes I have trouble identifying what it is or where it came from, but I know that somehow it found its way into me and has now surfaced due to some sort of inner sto

Dear infinite, There are things that exist in me that I wish didn't.  This longing for thin air, the air I breathe in fact, something I can't see but need to survive.  Constantly needing a new breath, holding onto it as long as I can before I must exhale.  I try to relax my belly to allow the air to fill me with kindness and calm, but most of the time I walk around with my gut sucked in out of blind habit. If I stop breathing, I'm dead.  My organs will shut down and eventually the rest of me will too. So I must.  I must breathe in order to live, to love, in this life. But sometimes the air tastes dirty, thick with city smog and sometimes smoke.  I do this on purpose, knowing I am harming my lungs, but again, it's out of blind habit. If I could filter you, I would.  I so would.  I would pick and choose the air I breathe so that I may find a place inside of myself that is constantly in a state of calm.  A state of peace. I could travel into the woods, to the mou

I started a blog earlier this evening but had to put it aside due to a killer headache. Something tells me it wasn't meant to be posted, so I'll try again instead. I'm super into spiritual-motivational speaker Gabrielle Bernstein these days.  Her words really resonate with me and I find myself relating more and more. The message I took away today was be more of yourself.  Be more real.  Be more you. I fight that a lot, mostly in my writing, especially since it goes public.  But also at work.  Today I realized I say "oh boy" in front of colleagues instead of my usual "oh man," or "maaaaan..." when I'm impressed or surprised by something.  I accidentally called a rather conservative female colleague dude once and was so embarrassed I had to apologize twice.  Normally I'm good at making the switch to adult-talk but I guess the real me comes out when I feel comfortable. I'm labelled as a professional, technically, but I can

It's been a deep day.  Like sitting in my office with a shawl wrapped around my head meditating and getting to the bottom of things... deep. I'd say this has been the best summer of my adulthood so far.  Had tonnes of fun working for Just For Laughs, visiting New Brunswick and of course, making a movie in the woods.  There's been ample time for self-reflection but I'm happy to say that I was too busy having fun to really catch on to a missing link.  But now that I'm back to work and have to get back into Spiritual Animator mode, I was struggling with what I could bring to the table this year, feeling like I've exhausted most of my creativity with the little ones. I stumbled upon a few key names while browsing, the starting point coming from my cousin Kate, who recommended The Daily Love.  Then came Joseph Campbell, Gabrielle Bernstein, the 5 Sutras, A Course in Miracles, and Marianne Williamson.  You're probably most familiar with the latter, but may hav

I watched a clam swim away from under a starfish.  Apparently, somehow, the starfish is the natural predator for these little shelled dudes.  They wrap their legs around it, then break the muscles holding the shell together and will spit out their stomach to eat the meat whole and then swallow the stomach back up.  Pretty gross if you ask me, but also kinda cool. Everybody's gotta eat right? Starfish are one of those beautiful mysteries of the ocean to me.  How they can lose a limb and then grow it back.  Pretty wild.  I saw one that had lost two of its extremities and already had little nubs growing in. Resilience.  How do you show it?  How do you manage to bounce back after a disappointment?  I guess it depends on the situation.  Matters of the heart usually lead to emptying ambre-filled glasses or eating a tub of ice cream right?  Preliminary measures to retrieving your grace. It's a process we must all go through, and one we experience countless times over the cours

Oh hey, it's July, and I haven't posted in well over a month.  That's a long stretch for me but my fingers are ready to start typing again. In fact, all kinds of stories have been implanting themselves in my head, so this blog may be taking on a different flave for a while. All month long, almost every day that I look at the date (I'm on vacation, so sometimes I don't bother), but each day that I've noticed, my brain registers it as an important date.  Much like you acknowledge it's someone's birthday before you wish them a happy one, the days in July sound important to me.  July 18th, today the 21st, etc.  Nothing particularly exciting is going on, but I can only figure that down the line, this will have been an important time in my life, for whatever reason. When we started shooting Ogoki, we being a collective of awesome actors, comedians, directors, writers and geniuses, I was having deja-vu all weekend.  In my existential opinion, deja-vu occu

Wow, I just noticed it's been 16 years to the day since Jeff Buckley died.  Interesting, as I was thinking today about my visit to the Mississippi river back in August, my own way of paying tribute to my most cherished musician. I've written about my experience before, of almost dying in quicksand after I foolishly took steps toward the muddy river's edge, wanting to dip my feet in the same body of water he died in.  I escaped by pulling my legs out of the knee-deep mud and crawling to safety.  As fate would have it there was a man with a hose on a ferry nearby who cleaned me off before I returned to my car feeling lucky.  I still wonder if I'd had to yell if the man with the hose would have heard me. I hold Jeff Buckley largely accountable for helping me survive the rollercoaster of emotions I rode in high school.  I discovered him by accident, probably a few months after he died because MusiquePlus was airing a concert he'd played a short while before in Chica

There's something so empowering about strutting the streets in the right pair of boots.  In my case, a pair of tan cowboy boots purchased in Nevada circa 1991.  After spending the day wearing overstretched flats that make me flex my feet as I walk, hammering out a good heel as I took my pup for a walk felt really. damn. good. Nancy Sinatra's These Boots are made for Walking playing naturally in my head, I let off steam from my extremely demanding day typing up every little detail of my job and work responsibilities in an salary relativity evaluation.  8 hours of brainwork.  I am finished. Leaving the school board, I checked my phone in the hopes of discovering a missed phonecall or another silly invitation from Facebook to attend an event I surely won't, but instead I see a text from the type of guy that Nancy sings about. You know, with all my years of experience, with all the worldly knowledge I have acquired, you would think I would have done things differently.  I

I lost my favorite earring yesterday.  It was from a pair a turquoise roses I bought in Winnipeg a few years ago.  Boo. There was a moment as I put it on that I noticed the butterfly was loose but I ignored it and assumed it would be fine.  As I looked for it I regretted my negligence and decided life was teaching me a lesson.  I retraced my steps and slowly understood that it was gone forever, lost on the streets of Montreal. It must be nice to be an Atheist.  Liberating in fact.  My brother assures me it is and tells me that life is so much more beautiful when you can appreciate the science behind it.  I believe in science as much as I believe in God, if that can make sense. Growing up I was always uncomfortable when the topic of religion came up.  My father came from a Protestant family and my mother a Catholic, and so we were never baptized or christened or whatever.  My best friend as a kid was Pentecostal and I remember sitting with her in Sunday school and cringing at my a

A little boy handed me a petal from the cherry tree out in the schoolyard today.  All the kids were picking them, the small bush had bloomed and you could literally tell it was picked by shorties... no flowers missing past their reach. The petal was so soft and delicate, a beautiful piece of nature, handed over to me to share in the awe of it. I've been in awe of the little ones lately.  It's a crazy time of year because it's so nice out and sunny, kids are happy but getting more and more rambunctious as the summer vacation approaches.  But the sweetness of their tiny faces, their little worlds bursting with color, everything must be so exaggerated to them.  It is, in fact.  And that's how it's supposed to be.  Colorful and fun. We forget, don't we, about the little things?  Those little gifts that the world gives us, that are so fresh and new for young ones, we've grown accustomed and blind to much of nature's beauty.  I'd rather scoot the ant

I wound up in a loft-shop in the Mile End Friday night surrounded by half a dozen jamming musicians and guitar parts.  In Daddy Mojo's shop, a guy whose signature is making really cool cigar box guitars.  Although I didn't get to hear how one of them sounds, I'm pretty sure most of the guitars and a bass were made there.  I'll admit I felt slightly inadequate at first, what with my absolute inability to play a single instrument, but eventually I warmed up to the high hat on a drum set.  I just had to google the correct name for what I otherwise would refer to as cymbals, just so you know where I'm coming from. I dream of songs almost nightly.  I dream that I can sing and hear the most beautiful lyrics and sounds I could imagine, but they disappear the second I open my eyes in the morning.  Sometimes I feel crippled by this, because I've always loved music so much but just can't make it happen.  I have rhythm, and that's a start and hanging around my mu

I addressed a group of 11 year olds today and asked them what's new.  Immediately students began talking about the bombing in Boston, and to be honest I'd hoped they'd bring it up.  When terrible things like this happen, when it's so hard for us as adults to wrap our minds around it all, imagine what kids must be feeling. Our TV channels or websites that we follow are constantly updating us on news around the world, and I know I'm usually glued to the screen when a crisis like this occurs. I caught a video post by Amy Poeler who spoke on her webcam about being careful of our hearts and what kind of images we expose ourselves to.  I stumbled onto a picture of a Boston victim with his legs blown off and blood and tendons spilling everywhere and I will never be able to wipe that from my mind.  I've seen pictures of dead bodies and decapitations and lots of other horrible things, not because I'm seeking it out but because it's so easy to come across. So

I watched a student of mine solve a Rubik's cube in a minute this afternoon. I've been working on a mural since December, and though it's April and we've only just primed the walls, it's become about so much more than just a couple of gallons of paint. Behind the rollers, behind the brushes, behind the trays and eggshell finish, are people with beautiful minds.  Teenagers that have worked together for months planning and thinking, philosophizing and conjuring ideas, images and insights.  We've sat around in my office for hours, grouping and regrouping, trying to create a wall that represents the great school community that we are a part of.  I've sat and listened, in awe, of the wisdom they have and of the offers they've made, whether through spontaneous suggestion, jokes or thoughtfully written journals. I can't believe anyone could every doubt them.  I can't believe that anyone would ever try to tell them they're wrong or make them fe

I always think I know I'm right, but sometimes I'm wrong. It's been a period of self-reflection, hence the lack of frequent posts, but a whole new part of me is being addressed that's been ignored... probably forever. I write that with a smile on my face because I think it's funny to realize how imperfect I am.  And it's really funny when I get caught. I've been caught a few times these past couple of weeks and I'm beginning to notice some habits of mine that are creeping out, but not getting far, thanks to some honest people in my life. The coffee pot was on when I got to the theatre at 9 am this morning.  I noticed the occasional ticking sound all afternoon and it was still on and a quarter full at 5 pm.  I tried to look away.  I tried to believe it wasn't my responsibility to turn it off, but I couldn't ignore the IMMINENT DANGER OF A ROASTED COFFEE POT.  I know.  Dramatic right?  So I turned it off, but I cringed, because it was a bat

So I've taken a few weeks off work to recover from anemia.  No wonder I've been so exhausted lately. That being said, it was hard to admit to myself I needed the time off.  I felt like I was failing at life, hahaha.  But, My Body Talks! So I need to do what is needed to feel better, and that's consuming more iron and resting. I've been spending my days tirelessly scoping out the internet and watching movies.  Today I was feeling more energetic so after shoveling out my car I sat down to answer a question that's been on my mind for weeks. Two Sundays ago, about, we were playing a warm-up game before an improv show at Theatre-Ste-Catherine called "5 Things."  Basically someone gives you a topic like 5 colors, and you name 5 colors.  Very simple, but we often get creative with our questions like "5 things you want to do before you die." I got a version of that question that threw me for a loop because it was really good but I needed some tim

Love has no boundaries. It isn't a jail cell Nor a prison sentence It isn't a call for help Nor a road to freedom It's a union Of two souls On separate paths Lucky enough to have found one another And explore the vastness of our world together There are no walls There are no secrets There are no questions Where love lives. It just is. When people get involved, The current begins. Instead of flowing with the vibe We push pull and shove it. We want, we need, we seek... But all the answers are there Drops of water to the ocean Swim, dive in, enter and allow- The wave to enter you.

I remember being around 11 years old at my friend's house out for a swim, when she told me to stick my feet together and she passed her hand from my ankles to my thighs, where it got stuck.  She stood up and told me that her grandmother says you have perfect legs if you can pass your hand all the way to the top. I remember doing cartwheels at 9 with a mushroom cut outdoors of a relative's house when a construction worker walked by and said, "allo p'tit gas" (hello little boy). I remember someone commenting on her own double chin and making me realize I had one too.  She told me if I should ever have plastic surgery, it should be on my nose. I also remember the time in the 90s when bellytops were in style and a group of boys laughing at me as I walked away from them, wearing black levis and a grey bellytop... they stood there and laughed with my best friend, who didn't defend me. I walked around for most of high school sucking my tummy in.  I remember m

Okay, so if you don't feel the spark, you don't feel the spark right?  If there's no spark, it ain't gonna happen right? I went out with a really nice guy this weekend, had an enjoyable time, our conversation flowed... but I just couldn't get past the feeling that I wasn't feeling it.  Does the spark show up after a couple of dates?  No.  I mean what would motivate you to go out with someone again if you didn't feel the least bit intrigued? This is why I'm terrible at dating.  I really shouldn't bother because unless I feel some semblance of butterflies, even if it's an old dying one batting its final bats of wings... I'll still be curious.  But I think that's alright.  The spark is what makes you want to get together, to push toward something more some day. I still strongly believe that dating shouldn't be a contrived meet-up, even though it is.  It shouldn't feel that way anyhow.  I want to get the nervous stomach cramps b

I realized that 7 months from today I will turn 31.  It's hard to believe 5 months have already flown by since my 30th birthday. And more than ever before, I realize it's time to turn a new page in my life. If you know me well, you know how often I self-analyze.  I mean this blog is a true testament to that.  Yes I'm really good at looking on the brighter side of things but what you don't know is that I struggle with this every day. When I started this blog two years ago, I had a profoundly different outlook on life.  I was positive all the time, I was eating well, I was outgoing and felt like I had zero stress finally.  But that was after making a drastic change in my health habits - eating raw foods - and discovering myself as a whole person.  It was a beautiful process, and though I do feel that person is still a big part of me, I've lost touch with her of late. I think shedding a skin is a natural occurrence, I've talked about lobsters before - how t

This was given to me during a workshop on Native spirituality this morning (given by Debbie Barry).  I was surprised by many of my answers.  Apparently it was used by marketers to become more aware of symbols and I'm guessing was put together by some psychologists.  It's best if it's read to you so you can really visualize but I suppose if you jot your answers down as you go you'll be okay, just take it all in!  I hope you're surprised too, and that it will give you an idea of where you're at now, and maybe where you want to go.  Feedback in the comments is much appreciated!!  xo -Katie VISION QUEST You're going for a walk.  You leave your house.  Notice the weather, the temperature, the sky. You begin walking, wandering, and you see a forest ahead of you. You come to the forest, you notice the trees.  What kind of trees are they? You enter the forest.  How do you feel inside the forest?  You see a path, what is it made of?  What do

I used to play darts in the basement of my grandparent's house in Lachute.  They had an old, beat up black and yellow one under the staircase and I remember loving the texture of the cork or rubber or whatever it was made out of.  I probably only played a handful of times, but it's one of those pieces of childhood that linger ya know? The object of the game is so simple, throw a sharp, pointed object at the center and try to score a bulls eye. Bulls eye.  Bullseye, I like the way that sounds, so victorious.  More satisfying than hole in one or strike.  BULLS EYE. I think some of us feel like we're walking dartboards.  The darts hang on by a string like a child's ping-pong paddle, people pick them up and the darts keep hitting us where it hurts most.  RIGHT IN THE HEART.  hahahaha But I know it's not funny.  Love hurts people!  Especially when we feel we're not in control of it.  Some people might claim they are but I don't believe it for a second.  The

What do you suppose Jim Morrison ever did that was real?  Once he became known as a household name that is.  Every move, every breath, every word he spoke was calculated, enjoying his celebrity, using it to control people. A lot of us are like this, only we don’t know we’re famous.  We’re storymakers; people who create moments that are memorable, meaningful but elusive.  They’re gone as soon as they happen, but we’ve planned them perfectly, rehearsed the dialogue and perfected the execution.  Made to affect the person we’re with, made to create a lasting impact, hoping for something bigger in return. I lied when I told him I’d never heard the song.  I lied when I gave him the stone.  I lied when he told me the truth.  I lied because I was making a story up in my head, and every reaction I had was planned, thought out and affirmed by circumstance.  Only he didn’t know it, or he did, and he’s a storymaker too.  In fact, I know he is, he told me himself. We walk the streets,