01: Blue and yellow is green

I used to dread August. In those young, free, idle days of... well, probably last year I suppose. But obviously I'm mainly thinking of grade school and high school, when those two months of summer went by so fast and you really had to work hard to make something of them, and I really never did.

This year, I welcome it. For one thing, it'll bring an end to the odyssey of summer school. For another, it was already the best summer I ever knew a month ago, so everything since then is really just icing, or gravy, depending on whether you like your metaphors for dessert or a main course.

So I imagine the next month or so will be relatively relaxing. Maybe, hopefully, I'll get some writing done since I won't feel like I'm procrastinating from schoolwork, which I totally am right now.

Although I wouldn't say it's been a "busy" week, there's been plenty of stuff on my mind. I keep finding myself fixating on political situations, which is annoying. I mean, I get annoyed that I care. Used to be I was glad to care, I felt like I stood for something. I've realized since then that if you care about something, you're expected to stand for it, and that's a lot of pressure. I don't need that responsibility, man. Besides, nobody likes being disagreed with. I say this every once in a while -- you can't have a political discussion in this day and age because of the modern aversion to disagreement. Most people have already formed their opinions, and they just shout them at each other. TV is particularly bad at this but you get it all the time in real life too. Alcohol is usually involved.

I mean, hey. I'm a big ole liberal. The way I see it - the oversimplified, deliberately un-nuanced way - is that liberals wanna help people no matter the cost, conservatives wanna balance the books, no matter the repercussions. And someone who subscribes to one viewpoint won't wanna hear the opposite. There are exceptions. There are many exceptions. Oftentimes reasonable people - and I guess this is the mark of a supremely reasonable person - can see the merits of both.

But what the fuck do I know. My marks in Poli-Sci indicate I'm not the most apt for this stuff. I'm just trying to say, these thoughts - which I know are less than sterling - are what have been bounding around my head this last week.

Friday night was a Lebowski night. It was going to be bowling then to the bar, but out of respect for convenience and affordability, we just bought the stuff to make White Russians and played Wii bowling all night. It was chill, although you can't really get drunk drinking White Russians, the milk makes you feel weird.

So it was me, CB, Pat, Adam and Chris, and I guess because Adam was there that's where some of this politics-talk came from, although it had bounced around in my head all week prior to this, like I said.

Saturday night was another thing. Martina, a friend from U of T, was having a meetup for her birthday, and I thought "Okay, well, I haven't seen them (her and the friends associated with her) in months, why not pop by?" Never mind that getting to Toronto in time for things is always an ordeal, let alone staying late enough to make it worthwhile. Or the fact that the main idea of the night was to go out to the club, and man, I am so far from being a club guy you have no idea. No idea! But a night out is a night out and I figure I should at least go to one club in my life so that I can say "Yeah, clubs are lame" and know what I'm talking about.

So after track delays and various stallage, the train rolled into union well after 9:30, and I got to Rosie's place, where I was instructed to meet up, at 10. I was introduced to a bunch of dudes I'd never met and we spent time playing Smash Bros. Unfortunately, I was handicapped due to being stuck with the classic controller, when I'm really only good with the Wiimote and nunchuk. What can I say? I'm used to being able to hit "up" and jump. Fuck that noise.

After video games we watched Dr. Horrible, always a wise choice, and then at around 11 we went out to the club, by now just me, the two girls and one other guy. I want to say his name was Paul but I could be mistaken. Then Martina and I had to wait outside for a while as Rosie went back for her ID. By the time we got in it was midnight. My dreams of getting my money's worth but still leaving on the 1:30 bus were fading. So I hung by the bar and did what any self-respecting man without a guaranteed dance partner does at a club - watched and drank. Not much though, them drinks were expensive.

So. This other guy, Maybe-Paul, was pretty adamant about his anti-dancing stance. Which I can respect. I can't really dance. It doesn't mean I won't dance, but I did resist for a while. Mainly my "dancing" consisted of making spastic, non-rhythmic motions in the general direction of Martina and Rosie. I wasn't drunk enough to attempt to break, which is a relief for everybody. But even with my pathetic display of move-busting, I can't have been the saddest case in there, no sir. Take your pick. There was the tall, stoned Jamaican dude (as I liked to call him, "Jamoker," it's a Scrubs reference, Urban Dictionary it) who creepily approached every female in the place until finally getting a little attention from some curvy Caribbean chick (it was Caribana, after all.) There was the mustache dude who looked to be at least 40, probably drunk/stoned out of his gourd, way out of his element, dancing by himself frantically on anyone who would pass, including security guards. So there was a mix of nubile young women dancing, often with sleazy-looking Caribbean/Asian/white (though far less often) dudes making unsolicited physical overtures, or couples grinding way too publicly for my taste, or wallflowers like me who had nothing going on except the opportunity to deliberately embarrass themselves for comic effect. Clubs are lame. I wouldn't try to pick a girl up at a club, I wouldn't go to a club unless I went in with a girl on my arm, and damn are they an expensive way to not really have fun.

Yeah, I'm a whiny bastard. But you all agree, I'm sure.

That said, I did enjoy myself at a few times, mainly when I was really cutting lose with the "look how bad a dancer I am" shtick, and when they played Word Up by Cameo. Yep.

We left a bit before 3, stopped by Rabba for snacks, then went home to watch Rocky Horror Picture Show, which many people present had not seen (you know you're a first timer when you comment - "Tim Curry's in this?") I hadn't seen it in a few years, but my parents used to love renting it, presumably as a way of passively traumatizing me when I was a kid and severely screwing up perception of normal sexuality. Yep.

So that took us to 6, at which point I had a choice. I was heavily considering just going to Union station, having done the virtual equivalent of T-Dot Loafting (another one to look up on UR) but with something to do. It was generally suggested that I just stick around and sleep a while, and I was too tired to fight (a good sign I needed sleep) so I sprawled out on the floor, the first time I have allowed myself to do so in years, with Possibly-Paul ceding the couch to Martina and opting to spoon with me. It was nice.

No wait, it was just a tad weird.

Wait, I mean it didn't happen! Fuck!

I woke up at about 10:20 and thought "Hm, if I rush, I can make the next train." And so I rushed. You'd better believe I rushed. I pulled the disappearing act, then got to the ground floor in time to watch the streetcar roll by, then said "Hm, I'll go up to Front St." (we were about a block down from Front on Spadina) and as I did this, another street car rolled past. So I rolled my eyes, muttered a silent FML, and started running. And oh lord how I did run. And oh lord how it was necessary.

How necessary was it you ask?

I punched my ticket - it reads "10:43." I made the train just in time to hear "The doors are closing, please stand back." That, friends, was an accomplishment.

That said, it may have been worthwhile to sleep ten more minutes, say a proper goodbye, walk casually to the station and get myself a coffee or something, but hey, who has time to be rational at 10 in the morning on 4 hours sleep? Pshaw!

So that was last night, in a nutshell. Today was recovery day although here I am being a night owl as usual. I had to stay up to watch Entourage, because I have a habit of missing the first airing and gosh darnit if I'm going to miss those guys' wacky adventures.

My last Poli Sci test is this week. I should study. Really.

But we'll deal with that when the time comes.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto