Part IV: Sounds of the city poundin' in my brain

Another several days have gone by and indeed an interesting series of days it was. At least as interesting as this thing gets without a random girl entering the narrative (although in a minor way, one does, so scratch that.)

The city, and its general area, are in the grips of a snow dilemma. Apparently we forgot where we live and didn't realize it would be coming eventually, possibly intent on destroying us. It began tuesday night, but's begin our story, shall we, on Tuesday afternoon.

It was, in truth, an average day. I stepped out of Innis into the cold, wet day with slush abounding. Rather than go back to the subway, however, I had to go the opposite way. I had to go to the Women's Bookstore, where all my text for English can be found, because they did not have it at the Oakville Public Library. I grumbled about this but the book itself was not all that expensive. If, by some stretch, I wound up enjoying this book, it'd be a treat. But anyway. I went into the always-unwelcoming Women's Bookstore, got my book and trod back through the puddles up St. George and back to the subway station. With all the extra time this took I was wondering if I'd make my train or if I'd be an hour late.

Well the subway pulled into Union. I and about four other people rushed in and saw "Lakeshore W. Proceed to Train Track 7-A." And as I ran, I thought nothing but "Where the fuck is Track 7-A?" Well I followed the other people and got on, out of breath and with a minute to spare. I settled in to my seat and the train got moving. It must've been right after Exhibition that the Go-stapo came by and asked for tickets. And it was in the instant that I reached for my wallet that I realized. In my hurry to find Track 7-A, I had clearly forgotten to cancel the ticket.

I wanted to smash my face through the window and tuck & roll to comparative safety. Instead, I got the fine. I felt miserable all the way back to Oakville. I stopped off to tell Amanda this story and then walked straight up Trafalgar to the post office to get this shit off my hands asap. I I went, got myself a money order (living like the drifter I do, I don't carry cheques or a credit card) and signed all the shit I needed to and dropped it in the mailbox.

When I told dad the story he seemed sympathetic - it happens - and a little impressed I had taken care of it immediately. I'm somewhat known, I suppose, as a procrastinator. I can't deny this. I just didn't want to bum about it all week until I got around to paying.

I told this story to Ryan the next day. We ran into one another at Oakville GO shortly before our 7:58 train was delayed. When we got the notice - that it was 20 or 25 minutes delayed - we went and stood in the lobby. It was there that I ran into my old friend Gabby, whom I sometimes run into on the train, as she works as a receptionist in the city. Her boyfriend was with her. I wonder he still has a problem with me (my only problem with him is that he may have a problem with me.) We stood around cracking jokes until the train arrived.

I emerged from the subway stop into a weirdly lovely winter scene. The dusting of snow the night before had left the bare trees quite picturesque and unusually enough, I wished I had my camera. I was more or less on time for class anyhow despite the late start. I'm sitting there trying to pay attention (and not doing a terribly good job but trying anyway!) Eventually my TA walks in and sits down next to me, which kinda cramps my style. I had to really focus on looking intent and noting the words of the lecture. This only made me drowsy. In fact, I slept very comfortably through my next class. Certain Profs have weirdly soothing voices.

After a lunch of Western sandwich (which you should never but but make yourself - bad Scotto!) it was film study. This is where the random girl comes in, and I'll explain using one of my elaborate tangent monologues.

Many years ago, in the midst of my first semester out of high school, I was talking to Doug, who, in his pre-sellout days, was studying stage acting at Ryerson. He told me of this activity he did in one class where he and another student just had to set onstage in silence. In the course of this you build your impressions of the other student and just sort of, I suppose, bond without really knowing each other. I've noticed this phenomenon in real life.

So there's this girl. In reality, there are hundreds of girls every day, but there are four that I see all the time in this class, they usually sit in a nearby section, always in their little group of four. The first time I ever spoke to one of them was a couple weeks ago when I asked the time (I had just noticed her checking her watch.) But in any case yesterday we both found ourselves outside the Town Hall and within an instant we got to talking - first about the screening we were waiting for, then about the weather, and then the usual "nice to meet you" stuff. It was a very nice, presumably innocent (but one never knows?) conversation. What I'm getting at here is that because we had seemingly seen each other so much - or at least I her and I'm sure she's noticed me - we actually got on like it was not our first conversation. But...

Because the fact is, earlier that day, I had made a command decision to take a step back from the female population, at least for the time being. I've been exhausting myself and getting nowhere, and I just need to sit back and not concern myself with it too much. So hardly an hour or two after this decision here's this girl and we're carrying on like we go back a ways. And you know I wouldn't be bringing it up if she didn't have a look. But what's a guy to do?

We went in and took seats; knowing she would momently have a cluster of friends around her, I took a seat in a row behind her and waited for my usual friends that sit with me. The movies were Dracula and Cat People, on the subject of Horror. You couldn't, by today's standards, call either of them "scary" but Cat People was damn effective and creepy.

After this I had to stop off at Pratt to do homework - a poetry critique for a girl who showed up but ditched before the Prof arrived - and then the actual class. The lion's share of the class featured a reading and Q&A with Sue Sinclair and Nick Thran, two poets who are, erm, together. There was a funny moment when, before they arrived, we were reading a poem by Thran about Barry Bonds. Reiby asked the room if everyone knew who Bonds was. A few people said no (one person who has become my friend over the year, and a girl who was raised in Britain.) I explained, "Bonds is a baseball player who has recently gotten the home run record... sort of." I phrased it this way somewhat reflexively, but everyone who is aware of Bonds' controversies laughed.

Anyway, the readings went well. they were insightful and well-spoken, and had enough to say to fill the hour as many of us scrounged up questions so as to not allow any awkward silences to drop (none did.)

Toward the end of the hour, a crackle of lightning was seen and followed by a roar of thunder. We decided that was a good place to leave off, and left the building to find a hellstorm of snow.

Again I met up with Ryan on the train. It wasn't long after the train got moving that I realized that, like some fool, I had gotten on once again without punching my ticket. Ryan tried to assuage my fears by saying the express hardly ever got checked, but that didn't help me since I knew it sometimes was. He got my mind off the matter, after I nervously discussed some strategries, by describing a particularly elaborate dream he'd had involving, in part, fighting zombies; I was in it. We also had further wildly inappropriate conversations to be having on a train within earshot of innocent people, not the least of which was this:

Ryan: What would you do if (The Go-Stapo) came no right now?
Me: ...I'd crap myself. Then I'd spend the remainder of the ride in the washroom.

At long last we arrived in Oakville. I had made it.

I celebrated by taking it easy that night. I was effin' tired. I was in a dead sleep that morning around 7:30 when I heard someone calling my name. not in a soothing, warm way... in that disaffected automatically-frustrated way my mom uses.

She needed me to dig her car out. The thundersnow had continued all night. It didn't look so bad and she was ready to go when the plow came by and threw up a thick ridge of snow at the foot of the driveway. She was so annoyed that she decided to back right through it, thus getting herself wedged right in.

So I tried to dig her out, but it wasn't going so well. I in my pajamas and coat and hat, trying to chovel all that snow out from under the car half-awake... not fun. And every time I'd made some progress and she'd try to get her car going, it would just flail about like an infant in a bathtub. I even tried pushing but I'm only one semi-conscious man. So I go off to get kitty litter and ice-melt and when I return, bluhh, the car has materialized on the other side of the ridge. She drives off and I shed my winter coat and collapse back into bed for an ohur or so.

After meeting with Amanda over coffee and describing many of these stories to her, I headed off to the dentist. It was your average visit I suppose, although the entire office staff apparently forgot that they told me I did not have to take antibiotics before going anymore. Also, there was talk of wisdom teeth for the first time ever (sadly, that's happening, albeit sometime in the far-flung future.) And for the first time in a few years, I have a cavity. I guess it's only fair that it finally caught up with me. I'm annoyed though because I have something of an antagonistic relationship with my dentist (whether he knows or not.)

While waiting in the lobby, I idly read the Entertainment section of the Star. I was amused to find one of my profs, Charlie Kiel, was quoted in an article about the Oscars.

Anyway, when I got home, it was shovel-time. This was followed by grocery-time whch was followed by a brief period of Guitar Hero and now this. It's been kind of a nothing day off. There are things I could have done... should have done... or read, or thought about... but basically have not.

I don't worry. Maybe I should, but there's a lot of zen here these days.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott