Sixteen: Poor Man's Porno

It's been an interesting day. Few days, really. Noteworthy for a few reasons I guess.

The theme of the past couple of days has been getting Mel ready for her trip. She's been slated to go out west for a while to visit the hotel in Banff and train some of the staff there. It sounds great in theory but in practice it's not the most ideal. She flew out this afternoon and will be flying back at 8 AM Mountain Time on Wednesday, meaning her "trip" is going to be a whirlwind few days, nothing fun or fancy. So yeah, you know, a work trip. There just happen to be a few facets of this trip and the planning there of (and the treatment of my spouse therein) that rankled me and left a sour taste in my mouth but out of respect for the parties involved, I won't spill the tea here. I'm and outside observer and, let's face it, a somewhat biased one.

So naturally there has been concern over preparedness and level of packing, so on Saturday we dedicated the day to getting ready. We made lists, sorted things out, worked out a kind of itinerary, packed bags, it was a pretty full process. In the course of this, we discovered a few desired items that we were missing, so we also made time for a Shoppers run. In the course of this, I got a text from my mom asking if I could come over and help with her TV.

Mom had actually texted me a few days earlier. See, they had just moved, and as part of that they had started their TV service with Virgin TV, for a savings. The problem is that unlike a carrier such a Bell, Virgin might require a certain amount of Do It Yourselfiness and Tech Savvy, which does not describe my mom. First they had me order some Amazon Firesticks so they could get the Virgin App, then once they arrived the next day (thankfully I had let my Amazon account renew due to interest in the A League Of Their Own series) I brought them over to install (only one so far, they haven't mounted the big TV.) On Saturday, they texted again saying they could only see things they had already watched. Not being familiar with the interface, I said I would come over, so we made time to do that in the afternoon. 

It was actually a decent excuse to get out for the afternoon and for Mel to see the place, which is nice. Well, so was the old one but this has a charm of its own. They downsized a bit (Ross: "I got rid of a bunch of my furniture") and have a smaller backyard but it's cute. Anyway, the fix was to make sure the Virgin TV App was their #1 favourite pinned app so they could always get back to it. Anyway, once that was all done and dusted, we excused ourselves and came home and flopped down on the couch to watch Selling Sunset for a while, then I whipped up some steaks for dinner (mine was overcooked but Mel's was miraculously perfectly pink inside??!) Then Mel did some more work and packing, fretting over using the big suitcase, something she would be very sensitive about if anyone were to make fun of her for it.

Today was sort of a hurry to get everything ready and get out the door for 1. Shower, breakfast, hair drying, finish packing, COVID Test, took us to right after 1 PM with very little time to lose. Except someone was parked across the lane from out driveway, so Mel asked me to back out, a bold move considering my recent track record, but I was up for it. I nearly left without my wallet, which would have been bad, but went back in to scoop it up. We did make it to the GO Station with very little time to spare but as we were leaving the car with all of Mel's baggage in tow I realized I had left my phone on the seat. Rather than ask her to wait while I dashed back, or even send her forward and run to catch off, I left it behind and away we went.

Now, this was bad because we were taking the GO train to the UP, and then I was taking that same route back, so that's about an hour and a half each way, but I was feeling worrisome and didn't want to cause any undue delay in our travel, so I made the sacrifice. What I did have was a book in my satchel, Emily St. John Mandel's The Glass Hotel, which I put down sometime last year and only just got back to. I had thought about whether I wanted to bring Reveal: The Story of R.E.M. instead or additionally -- I just finished that, but I restarted it because I had started reading it years and years ago, (originally bought in 2013 in the first blush of my R.E.M. fixation) and wanted to revisit the early goings of the band. But I only brought the one because I was actually intending on listening to the audiobook of A Feast for Crows.

So anyway, I got to enjoy the hourlong GO Train ride into the city in silence augmented by nearby conversations (nothing loud enough to hear, which is good and bad, but mostly good) while I read Glass Hotel, which is a good book. I'm a really tough crowd when it comes to fiction, since if it's no good I have no patience for it, but if it's good it makes me want to write instead of read, so I never get as much reading done as I like, for a "book person," although this is less of a problem with nonfiction, where my interest in learning more and following the narrative usually keeps me interested. This made me want to write. But it did keep me engaged to a point, but it was a lot of time to read.

So we got to the UP, had some time for a cold beverage at Balzac's, then went to the airport, where we checked her bag and said a shockingly quick goodbye. Then I began my trek home, my schlep. I did some more reading but we got stuck at Mimico and I felt restless after spending the better part of an hour reading already. But I had nothing else, no phone, no music, not so much as a pen and paper (I had considered buying a sudoku or something at the International News at Union.) So all I could do was wander the train and find another spot to plunk down and be alone with my thoughts as I stared outside. It was very much like being in university again, in my pre-smartphone days (I got my first Blackberry just after graduation.)

I was very relieved to get to Burlington and get to the car to find my phone, but the delay at Mimico had meant that I didn't get to message Mel before takeoff, and she had only sent one message. I felt a little melancholy about that, but all things pass, all things in time. I came home and ate Chinese food and watched AEW.

While I was on the train I had thought of an old poem I wrote for class called "To Quebec City." The opening lines I will never forget but it is purposefully very long and unwieldy, so I wondered if I had it saved anywhere. When I came home I hunted around on Tumblr but I guess I never posted it there, but I did find my old Writers Cafe account, with all my old writing intact there. What a find. Yes, I did find "To Quebec City" (I have some notes) and also a ton of things, some of which I remember writing, and some of which I had no memory of, from that time in my life, mostly around 2010 when I was getting deep into being sad tumblr boi. I have to say, as much as my state of mind is patently obvious (I'm lonely, I write about unavailability of women, and maybe other people don't know it but every relationship scenario I include is completely fictionalized) I can do a few good things with words, including but not limited to rhyming, rhythm, metaphor, absurdism, and have a few good ideas to boot, in particular one about looking at Missed Connections. In a different world, I became the world's most famous poet instead of Rupi Kaur.

Assuming the multiverse theory is correct and everything that could possibly happen happened somewhere, no matter how absurd.

It was an interesting form of time travel because I'm not that guy anymore but I know where he lives. Now I am grown and mature and have serious grown-up mature concerns like mortgage and promotions and fertility and RRSP. I played Guitar Hero also tonight.

As I always say I'm not nostalgic. My life's not perfect but I have no illusions that it was ever any better or even close to as good as it is now, and I kind of rue young Scotto for taking so long to get here, but I know he did his best. But there is something in the air, since I brought out all those old mix CDs to listen to in the car (you know, I'm just sick of always turning on the radio and hearing Heart, Billy Idol, Whitesnake or Phil Collins.) So my head goes back there, and now it's working its way into my dreams. I had a youthful indiscretion dream with a girl who doesn't exist in my dream two nights ago, where our faces were pressed together. If this is concerning to you, Mel tells me about stranger-make-out dreams she has all the time, including this morning, often without shame. They're just dreams, they don't mean that. Usually it just means I'm thinking about writing something for which I have to access my young yearning side. Last night I had a dream where I split a cab with someone from work that I have a private, one-sided enmity toward (because they are an advancing young go-getter and I am a crotchety old man spinning his wheels) where we buried the hatchet, despite my never letting on that I bear this person any ill will (because I'm fully aware that it's wrong of me.)

One thing that happens a lot when Mel goes away -- and I noted today, it's always her going away, I don't go anywhere, I don't travel for work, I rarely go to the office or visit friends on my own -- I get hungrier. I don't know what that's about. I ate that Chinese food, and then later a bowl of popcorn, and I'm snacky again, I think I could use some candy or something. 

Now I'm just trying to prop myself up. Mel has confirmed she has arrived in Calgary and is now on her way to Banff. She asked if she could call me when she gets there, which will be like 1:30 our time. It's now after 1 so writing this post has accomplished its purpose of keeping me busy and focussed, as well as a cold drink of water. But you know, I'm really fading and it's going to be a long convo reminiscent of when we were first dating and didn't share literally every experience of the day, so I'd better saddle up.

The place is a mess. It would probably be good if I get a little bit of cleaning done before Wednesday but I don't know when that's going to happen. The kitchen, in particular, is starting to smell foul, which is never good.

We've been a little raggedy lately. Pre-occupied perhaps. There's plenty going on to keep us busy, much of which is just life. I've started watering the garden though.

Hm. Mel should be calling any minute now.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

Addendum: There's such a recurring theme this year about me talking about my old life and insisting I am okay and better today than I was then. It's true, but man, me saying it over and over really makes it sound like I'm trying to convince someone. I don't know, that's just what's on my mind lately. I have a workaday job, a mature, well-lived-in relationship and no social life. Not a lot of new things happen to me lately. Is that sad? Does that make for bad blogging? I, I, I... yeah. So I excavate the past and I appraise it, and I find it, over and over again, inferior to today.

A few days ago we watched Senior Year, the Rebel Wilson "Kickin' It Old School" remake, which happens to have as its focal point the time period very adjacent to when I was growing up and coming of age. It's got me feeling a little old, a little reflective, a lot wistful. But I have a very robust record to tell me how unstellar the past was. So today I find myself caught between an uncertain, scary future (because the future is always this) and a past that carries certain baggage but it doesn't matter because it's not coming back.

That's life. Literally that's what life is. Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel.

I had my call with Mel. She was in quite a state after her long travel and it was all I could do to comfort her and make my presence felt. I hope things are okay. It won't be long anyway.

Keep on rockin again

-Scotto