SUCH A PLEASURE TO IMPLY
Toronto was lovely. Everybody told me it was going to be so clean and peaceful, which it wasn't at all. Of course, we only saw the downtown area, but it still felt a little unlike other huge cities. I think that's because there are few huge-ass skyscrapers blocking the sky. I mean, acre-wise, the place is just huge, but it all feels pretty spread out. I would love to go back some time and see more. And not get sunburned. (I have a V-shaped sunburn on my chest from waiting in front of Sam the Record Man for Greg to show up. Why is it V-shaped? Because, being the perpetual contrary girl that I am, I wear cardigans at all times! And you cannot change this about me! Even if it's really fucking hot! So there. And now I'm paying the price. Whatever.)
Tried out some nice beers, saw a lot of crazy people, applied makeup in the hotel room while listening to Elvis Costello (this time it's This Year's Model because my copy of My Aim is True is still caught in Adam's cd player) turned all the way up on the headphones, listened to "Wolf at the Door" about a bazillion times, and like that.
I've realized that my happiness depends on balancing a string of nonsequiters so that they equal more than their total parts. For example: the last night we were in Toronto I was waiting around a bit to see if Greg would call after the B-step show, drinking cold decaf coffee, and watching the part of Gimme Shelter in which the Hell's Angels beat up whomever is giving them dirty looks in the crowd. In a hotel room on a Sunday night in Toronto. Now, any one of these thigns would have been unpleasant (at least mildly so) by themselves, but all together I was feeling alright. I think this is my new life philosophy, but I'll have to think it over first. More later.
Toronto was lovely. Everybody told me it was going to be so clean and peaceful, which it wasn't at all. Of course, we only saw the downtown area, but it still felt a little unlike other huge cities. I think that's because there are few huge-ass skyscrapers blocking the sky. I mean, acre-wise, the place is just huge, but it all feels pretty spread out. I would love to go back some time and see more. And not get sunburned. (I have a V-shaped sunburn on my chest from waiting in front of Sam the Record Man for Greg to show up. Why is it V-shaped? Because, being the perpetual contrary girl that I am, I wear cardigans at all times! And you cannot change this about me! Even if it's really fucking hot! So there. And now I'm paying the price. Whatever.)
Tried out some nice beers, saw a lot of crazy people, applied makeup in the hotel room while listening to Elvis Costello (this time it's This Year's Model because my copy of My Aim is True is still caught in Adam's cd player) turned all the way up on the headphones, listened to "Wolf at the Door" about a bazillion times, and like that.
I've realized that my happiness depends on balancing a string of nonsequiters so that they equal more than their total parts. For example: the last night we were in Toronto I was waiting around a bit to see if Greg would call after the B-step show, drinking cold decaf coffee, and watching the part of Gimme Shelter in which the Hell's Angels beat up whomever is giving them dirty looks in the crowd. In a hotel room on a Sunday night in Toronto. Now, any one of these thigns would have been unpleasant (at least mildly so) by themselves, but all together I was feeling alright. I think this is my new life philosophy, but I'll have to think it over first. More later.
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