November 4, 1999.

Yesterday 2 things happened that seemed to diametrically oppose one another in the pantheon of anecdotes.

In the afternoon, I wandered up & down Yonge St, on my own, looking for snazzy work clothes. There are a lot of sleazy establishments on Yonge, in case you didn't already know. A lot. And one of these murky places - a lingerie store - was offering 40% off leather & PVC. So I went in, of course.

Inside, the store was empty except for a pretty clerk & an old man in a trenchcoat. No, I'm not making this up. I walked in just as the Old Man in a Trenchcoat approached the pretty clerk with a question on his lips & something weird in his face. He saw me, paused, turned & left.

Never underestimate the power of schoolmarm wholesomeness.

For the second, I'll skip forward in time to the end of the day, during my long night's train-ride into suburbia. I left directly from the roof, so I'm still dressed as a slightly punked-out disheveled goth with a large backpack containing everything I'd needed in the last few days. An old man - in a windbreaker, no less - enters the train, sits down near me & says hello.

I murmur & avoid his eyes.

A few minutes later: "those purple tights are sexy."

My eyes widen, although I'm trying not to be drawn in.

"You should've worn purple lipstick. Purple is sooo...sexy."

"I like black," I mumble.

A few seconds later: "what's your name?" And, "so, do you have a place to stay tonight?" And, "I live at Lakeshore & Islington. Remember that."

And he gets off the train.

I spend the next twenty minutes planning out in detail how my vampire avatar would've killed him. It makes my feel a little less...creepy.

I apologize for leaving you like this. Funny how time gets away from you sometimes.

I shall be gone to Edmonton for the weekend. I'll try to get something uploaded for this page during that time, but I think your best bet might be the mailing list; if I can get to any connection, I'll be able to send you a postcard.

Wish me God speed & good narrative!