”Feminist chicks dig me.” – today’s favourite shirt

I had the most beautiful, bizarre day today. It started out fairly typically: I made it to the train on-time and got to class early. Despite my good start I was exhausted; Blake didn’t eat dinner yesterday, and was therefore hungry and restive the entire night. Class was interesting (6 lenses of critical theory, so empowering) and I was able to do the tiniest bit of research before I scampered off to meet Stacy for lunch. We were supposed to meet at the statue in Queen’s Park, but since it’s on a hill I climbed up to the base of the statue and sat between the horse’s hooves. I have to say, sitting on a bronze statue in the middle of a Toronto heat wave wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done. It wasn’t scorching exactly but I began sweating in the statue shade. And yet I loved it. I’m a big kid at heart and if I can’t make little kids point at my clothes it does my heart good to make them point at me for my actions. (And: Stacy recognized me immediately. Score!)

We had lunch at Hart House in the elegantly-named Arbour Room (which is a jumped-up caf, as opposed to the plain-named Gallery Grill, which is a white linen delight). On the table was educational theory, clothing style, critical lenses and a cheese-filled pretzel that was too salty to finish. I had a great time – it was so damned adult to see Stacy for lunch, even if I did start the hour under a bronze horse.

After Stacy went back to work, I jetted off to Trinity Library to get some work done on my paper. (Due Monday. Garrr.) I was in this library yesterday after a quick visit with Dirk, who was unfortunately swamped and was only able to provide an air-conditioned haven for my mounting research anxieties. (Only.) So today I decide to go where I was comfortable.

I was a half-hour into making notes on possible articles I might wish to download when a person floated into my peripheral vision and put his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at Preacher, who is supposed to be in New York.

I think we just stared at each other for a few minutes, lost in the coincidence. It was one of the few times in my life that I was literally swept away: there was someone else there talking to Preacher, but the roaring in my ears was too loud to make out conversation. I wondered why this person didn’t recognize that he had ceased to exist.

Well, after the pervasive feeling of dream-logic subsided somewhat, we were able to do what we seem to do best: have a long confessional conversation over a pint or two. It’s been a long time since I drank in the middle of the week with Preacher. Funny; I’ve been spending the whole month meditating on my U of T experiences and how much they have found and formed me. This week I didn’t just walk through the fringes of campus: I went down Philosopher’s Walk, ate in Hart House, sat through a lecture at Sid Smith, visited with Dirk while he typed away, and researched a paper in the Trinity Library. Now that I’ve had this afternoon with Preacher – this strange, wonderful, unsettling, blessing of an afternoon – well, if I had to abandon the U of T campus now, I would be okay with that. This week has been a strange mix of memory and solitude. And I’m happy tonight in a way that I haven’t been in a long time.

More about my week, including the oddly-pervasive ass comment, when I get out from under this research paper. It’s all written down… just not here, dig?

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 7/14/2005 08:33:00 p.m.