11:20 p.m.

"I'm the Front Street Belvadere, my dear. Tell ya, I'm the liquor store cavalier..."
- big rude jake

Listening to Jake, mellowing out quite a bit. I was surfing through my "diary" bookmarks, and when I got to what used to be called Down the Rubadub in a Terry Nutkin Stylee, I had to take out the Hard Core Logo Soundtrack. Too gritty for such airiness & visions. If William Blake had written an online diary, I wonder how it would read?

I do love that man. I love the fact that his art was a total act of creation, of pictures, words, printing & binding. I love that he saw angels as a child. And I love him for "Jerusalem," possibly the most stirring hymn ever.

Sorry about that little train. I'm not doing a great job of controlling my thoughts lately. I didn't sleep very well last night, despite punking out on a planned night of drinking & fellowship at Barcode. I've been dragging myself from pillar to post all day as a consequence.

I was glad to see St. Jack, though it was only over wonderful cheap Chinese food in a grotty Spadina eatery. Today we went out for lunch at the culty café down the street and chased pigeons through Christie Pits. If I hadn't been so bloody warm in my black dress and so bloody tired from all of the noise, I would've been blissful. (St. Stephen listens to CBC louder than anyone I know. Blaring from a clock radio far too early on your summer vacation, it becomes truly bizarre.)

I floated my theory about friendship to Jack, which is basically an extrapolation of my surprise. We've past the point where proximity determines friendship, so now it's time to figure out if there's anything there to begin with. I feel lucky that I still have a wonderful handful of friends from my university years. My point is that we're friends because of the now, whereas I'd be pleasant & nod to some one like Dot based on the then. It's just nice to feel that strength once in awhile, especially this week. I've just realized that if I want to do anything for my birthday, I have to get off my ass & stop feeling lonely.

It helps to remember that I only had 3 friends on my 21^st birthday: Lawyer, Scherezade & Dirk. I can do better this year, even with the wedding sucking everyone's time & attention.

Mono can be a mixed blessing, I've discovered. Now that Scout has it, I think I'll be able to scuttle the dregs of the bachelorette & have a proper birthday get together instead. Not that I want Scout to have mono, poor honey. I'm just trying to be practical, while rushing over with flowers & voodoo candles.

*&*&*&*&

My grandmother's dose of vitriol for the day: When asked if she would attend the rehearsal party, she declined, but offered the opinion that my uncle & aunt from China who are staying with them currently would enjoy the experience. Someone pointed out that they had no car to get to the house. Her answer: 'Oh, we could drop them off.'

Yesterday she greeted the news about the guest list with the response, "so, they're all dropping off now." As if I deserved it, possibly because of my "homophobia."

I can't even begin. A complete lack of any propriety or manners coupled with an unreasonable perception of her place in things coupled with a total lack of gracious retreat once a plan is proven ridiculous. I wish she liked me. I wish she did things for me because she loves me and wants to please me. Instead I get anger, sniping, cruelty. Every attention paid to me is on behalf of someone else whom she favours. I shouldn't care by now. It's been going on too long.

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