random play

the weekend felt like it flew past, a row of computer stores downtown, long trips on the subway with even longer bus rides, korean food, the homeless guy on the street, chocolate crackle ice cream, the fast and the furious, poseidon, danielle duval at indigo, hot chocolate, the jazz club, china town, best friends, narrow beds and a few tears later, its tuesday. 12.20 am on a tuesday morning, and i'm thinking i need to go to bed. a growing pile of readings, and articles awaits me. at 1 this afternoon my philosophy proffessor will tell me whether my conclusions follow my premise, logically. i really couldn't care whether it did or not. i'd rather be listening to Leydon tell me about retail geography in downtown Toronto, and that the solution to overstaying children lies in cheese, and about the shadier "toys" purchase online. I want to hear about living in wellesley and parliament, about the red light district, Irish pints, his wifes niece and the sicilian Alberto who was bought over by the koreans. But i won't, and instead i will be sitting in a economics lecuture that bores me to tears. well not really. my 500 peers in that class frustrate me in thier naivete and normal-ness. thankfully theres lots of ways to pass the time in a two hour lecture. the stick figure and boobette series continues, albeit in the margins of economics course notes.
in the wise words of my 13 year old cousin, sex complicates everything. i'm not going to even bother writing about this, because this rather sweeping overarching statement has too many arguments, premises and a host of opinions attached to it. why am i thinking about this, i dont know, maybe because some of my best friends are confused, and thier confusion is slowly seeping into me, maybe because last week Guy Allen read the pregnancy test story in class, and my heart was beating faster, my hands were clammy, and i couldn't think straight becuase i could almost feel what she felt, and i dont even know why. or it maybe becuase i know too many people who matter so much to me, and this has become all too real in thier lives, maybe because Kat's story kissing bellmonts was too real, maybe because sexuality and gender have become so ingrained in thier specific roles in our minds that theres no other way to think about it, or maybe its becuase feminists are twisted and right, and Pontierro converted me. no matter, i have a story for this, and i shall write it and get it out of me.
I've been on a list making binge lately. so much so that i put up a dry erase board, and filling it with more lists. the scraps of paper that i have in my wallet, and bag and files are still full of lists; i found grocery lists from 2005, a scribbled half list of resolutions, a bookmark with a list of my favourite people (maybe i thought i would forget who they were unless i wrote it down. heh), book lists, call numbers for library books, a list of albums, lists of numbers, of assignments, of funds, of places, stores downtown, stores in general, route maps, priorities and it goes on and on. i dont know why i do it. i started up again. this time i'm listing everything that i'm going to change, this is not a new years resolution by any means, its a comparison, and all i can think is i've screwed up along the way.
i miss living with the L-cat and Haven, my current housemates are less than ideal, but in a perfect world Lisa would be with Max, Haven would be having a blast on her final year and make it into grad school without any hitches, i will have my own place, Jill would stop making out in the next room, i would stop burning the pots, and the damn house would get cleaned up. no actually in a perfect world i would be able to get these words out of my mind.
The people thought they were just being rewarded
For treating others as they like to be treated
For obeying stop signs and curing diseases
For mailing letters with the address of the sender
Now we can swim any day in november
from 8.00 this morning the songs been playing in my mind, on repeat, and i can almost hear the disc slipping from exhaustion, but it goes on and on, till i can shoot myself from the frustration.
F you postal service. yeah how pointless was that . i know.