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On the bus ride to Toronto, I looked out the window, blinking and idly watching urban scenery strobe by. I saw an inflated tennis court, and all I could think of was the enormous pupa of the Michelin Man.
It was only after I arrived at the Children's Dance Theatre in Toronto and found the studios empty that I began to realize something was off. Sure, I was a half hour early, but there ought to have been someone there, right?
Wrong.
After a few fruitless phone calls and a quick look online, I discovered that I have no idea how calendars work. The date I'd so carefully marked out a couple of months back was wrong. The workshop isn't until next week, when I will not be able to attend.
I felt like I'd been hit with a half tonne of disappointment, and as I dejectedly walked back into the downtown core of Toronto, I was mentally kicking myself for my incompetence. I decided I may as well just go right on back home, but then I decided to make the most of my visit to Toronto and do the things I never have the time to do, normally. And so I'll be going to the ROM, a poetry reading, a gallery opening, etc.
My week of oddities and experience is already in full force. Last night, I hung out with witches and met a drug dealer, a steel worker, a drunk, and a bum. The drunk insisted on writing poetry with the witches and I while we sat in an Irish pub. He claimed his "male energy" was necessary. I had a 1/4 shot of the nastiest, foulest scotch whiskey ever committed to an overpriced bottle (Bog Monster, if you'd like to know--tastes like the sulphuric phlegm of the Devil himself, I tell you). I watched a crackhead walk up and down a street holding a jack-in-the-box. He was stopped by a man in a suit who showed him a pocket watch.
Random snippets of last night's conversation:
"My athame is a KFC spork."
"You're the type to get pregnant just so you can eat your own placenta."
On boy-watching
Me: I'm into catch and release.
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senseic: I like to mount the heads. In more ways than one!
I'm still waiting to see what today will throw at me. I'm planning on being an academic tourist yet again. I'm supposed to go to the University of Toronto. I'm going to loiter in the library, and see what I can glean through random acts of bibliomancy.
And now for a scrap of meter, scrapped together on the bus and in a pub:
Where I once bloomed in damp southern desires
I am now withered in distaste.
Bitter echoes blast me when lust reemerges
Like acid reflux.
It was only after I arrived at the Children's Dance Theatre in Toronto and found the studios empty that I began to realize something was off. Sure, I was a half hour early, but there ought to have been someone there, right?
Wrong.
After a few fruitless phone calls and a quick look online, I discovered that I have no idea how calendars work. The date I'd so carefully marked out a couple of months back was wrong. The workshop isn't until next week, when I will not be able to attend.
I felt like I'd been hit with a half tonne of disappointment, and as I dejectedly walked back into the downtown core of Toronto, I was mentally kicking myself for my incompetence. I decided I may as well just go right on back home, but then I decided to make the most of my visit to Toronto and do the things I never have the time to do, normally. And so I'll be going to the ROM, a poetry reading, a gallery opening, etc.
My week of oddities and experience is already in full force. Last night, I hung out with witches and met a drug dealer, a steel worker, a drunk, and a bum. The drunk insisted on writing poetry with the witches and I while we sat in an Irish pub. He claimed his "male energy" was necessary. I had a 1/4 shot of the nastiest, foulest scotch whiskey ever committed to an overpriced bottle (Bog Monster, if you'd like to know--tastes like the sulphuric phlegm of the Devil himself, I tell you). I watched a crackhead walk up and down a street holding a jack-in-the-box. He was stopped by a man in a suit who showed him a pocket watch.
Random snippets of last night's conversation:
"My athame is a KFC spork."
"You're the type to get pregnant just so you can eat your own placenta."
On boy-watching
Me: I'm into catch and release.
senseic: I like to mount the heads. In more ways than one!I'm still waiting to see what today will throw at me. I'm planning on being an academic tourist yet again. I'm supposed to go to the University of Toronto. I'm going to loiter in the library, and see what I can glean through random acts of bibliomancy.
And now for a scrap of meter, scrapped together on the bus and in a pub:
Where I once bloomed in damp southern desires
I am now withered in distaste.
Bitter echoes blast me when lust reemerges
Like acid reflux.
