time is on my side

Three hours ago, strolling leisurely down Queen Street W: mourning the recent closure of one of my favourite book stores, Pages; being harassed for five minutes by a dead-eyed raver to purchase his CD and booklet that's "like...you know...a commentary on, civilization...and culture..."; dropping by Criminal Records to browse through the rows upon rows of fifteen-dollar temptations; and walking & talking with a good friend who's about as obsessed with composing music as I am with illustration.

Five hours ago, loitering awkwardly in the Ontario College of Art & Design's front lobby: debating whether to put up with the long (long) line for student ID cards; scanning the vast crowd of hipsters, misfits, and those not so easily categorized; and eventually deciding that perhaps this "frosh" business wasn't for me the second time around.

Fourteen hours ago, preparing for the first Kensington sleep: dragging the lumpy futon mattress into my room as a substitute for my bed (arriving any time now); waiting a little while for the bathroom to free up; and feeling the equivalent of being dropped off at daycare for the first time.

Twenty-eight hours ago: pulling onto the sidewalk in the U-Haul van.