in which emily walks home
Tonight (technically being last night) a bunch of us ("us" being friends and myself) went to 1848 (being the campus bar named after the year of the University of Ottawa's founding) to see Celeste (being my roommate) play guitar and sing at open mic night.
Celeste is an amazingly talented musician and she kept us all in awe (despite the sound not working so great and the mic stand constantly slipping down away from her face). It was a joy to hear her play. Except I definetly weeped up when she started to play Ani Difranco's "Untouchable Face", I mean COME ON! Who DOESN'T cry to that song?!
Anyway, after that people were going to Pier 21 for an event and then to Babylon, where The SoulJazz Orchestra is apparently playing their last regularly scheduled show. I was too tired to go to either of these, due to lack of sleep over many days.
So, I bid my friends adieu and walked to Bank Street with Celeste's friend Jess, who was also going home. I noticed a sign lying with some garbage on the side of the road with some quotable quote about being "truly radical" and hope and not despair and all that noise, and I figured it would be a nice gift for the neo-hippie commune of friends at 84 Fifth. :) So, I picked it up and lugged it along with me. Oh, I should also mention that I was carrying Celeste's guitar as well, since I had offered to take it home so she wouldn't have to take it to the next bar. So, guitar and now sign (which was a ceiling tile from a government building with the words of the quote painted on it - some outspoken civil servant, no doubt), in either hand. We approached the corner where the bus came, only to have it speed off just as I hurriedly (and awkwardly) arrived at the stop.
I checked the schedule and discovered that the next bus would arrive a full half hour later. I kinda groaned and then a young man carrying what appeared to be a curling broom asked if the bus had already gone by. I said it did and he said something about walking, and continued down the road. I waited a few minutes and then noticed I had a fibreglass splinter in my hand. I fished that out and decided to not waste my bus tickets on the bus that would only be able to take me a few blocks in the desired direction, picked up the guitar case, tucked the ceiling tile under my arm, and hopped on the heel-toe express, heading southward.
I didn't see anything particularly interesting other than a man playing "Dontcha" by the Pussycat Dolls (how I loathe that song/group/production company) on a small boombox while urinating and shouting incoherencies to passers-by. I was on the opposite side of the street and therefore unalarmed. Plus there were other people around. AND I could have tossed the sign at him.
I passed Babylon but didn't go in. Hopefully the people there were having a good time.
Thennnnnnn by the time I got to the Queensway my arms were getting pretty tired, and the guitar case kept bumping into the back of my leg. I'll likely have a jolly bruise there tomorrow.
I paused for a moment, put my cargo down, and gathered up my morale once again.
I was excited when I finally reached Glebe Avenue because it meant there were only about five blocks left to go. I pressed on, and just as I reached Fifth Avenue, the bus I would have waited for pulled up right behind me. I beat the bus!! In your FACE OC Transpo!
Mightily content with myself, I walked up to 84 Fifth and dropped the sign off on their porch. As I was coming down the steps, lo and behold, I spot the fellow with the curling broom walking my way on Fifth Avenue. So he says "hey, I know you..." and I told him that I walked and beat the bus. Making small talk with the dude going in the same direction as me, I asked (retardedly) if he lived in the area. He replied that he lived on Howick. I said "you're kidding me!" and we discovered that he lives two floors up from our apartment with his girlfriend. His name is Pat.
I had been stewing about my day during most of the walk home, but after that coincidence I felt much better. It'd be great if that sign I left for Rehana and her roommates brought about a similar pleasant feeling. Hopefully it brightens someone's day.
I'm beat. I'm going to my delicious bed now.
Celeste is an amazingly talented musician and she kept us all in awe (despite the sound not working so great and the mic stand constantly slipping down away from her face). It was a joy to hear her play. Except I definetly weeped up when she started to play Ani Difranco's "Untouchable Face", I mean COME ON! Who DOESN'T cry to that song?!
Anyway, after that people were going to Pier 21 for an event and then to Babylon, where The SoulJazz Orchestra is apparently playing their last regularly scheduled show. I was too tired to go to either of these, due to lack of sleep over many days.
So, I bid my friends adieu and walked to Bank Street with Celeste's friend Jess, who was also going home. I noticed a sign lying with some garbage on the side of the road with some quotable quote about being "truly radical" and hope and not despair and all that noise, and I figured it would be a nice gift for the neo-hippie commune of friends at 84 Fifth. :) So, I picked it up and lugged it along with me. Oh, I should also mention that I was carrying Celeste's guitar as well, since I had offered to take it home so she wouldn't have to take it to the next bar. So, guitar and now sign (which was a ceiling tile from a government building with the words of the quote painted on it - some outspoken civil servant, no doubt), in either hand. We approached the corner where the bus came, only to have it speed off just as I hurriedly (and awkwardly) arrived at the stop.
I checked the schedule and discovered that the next bus would arrive a full half hour later. I kinda groaned and then a young man carrying what appeared to be a curling broom asked if the bus had already gone by. I said it did and he said something about walking, and continued down the road. I waited a few minutes and then noticed I had a fibreglass splinter in my hand. I fished that out and decided to not waste my bus tickets on the bus that would only be able to take me a few blocks in the desired direction, picked up the guitar case, tucked the ceiling tile under my arm, and hopped on the heel-toe express, heading southward.
I didn't see anything particularly interesting other than a man playing "Dontcha" by the Pussycat Dolls (how I loathe that song/group/production company) on a small boombox while urinating and shouting incoherencies to passers-by. I was on the opposite side of the street and therefore unalarmed. Plus there were other people around. AND I could have tossed the sign at him.
I passed Babylon but didn't go in. Hopefully the people there were having a good time.
Thennnnnnn by the time I got to the Queensway my arms were getting pretty tired, and the guitar case kept bumping into the back of my leg. I'll likely have a jolly bruise there tomorrow.
I paused for a moment, put my cargo down, and gathered up my morale once again.
I was excited when I finally reached Glebe Avenue because it meant there were only about five blocks left to go. I pressed on, and just as I reached Fifth Avenue, the bus I would have waited for pulled up right behind me. I beat the bus!! In your FACE OC Transpo!
Mightily content with myself, I walked up to 84 Fifth and dropped the sign off on their porch. As I was coming down the steps, lo and behold, I spot the fellow with the curling broom walking my way on Fifth Avenue. So he says "hey, I know you..." and I told him that I walked and beat the bus. Making small talk with the dude going in the same direction as me, I asked (retardedly) if he lived in the area. He replied that he lived on Howick. I said "you're kidding me!" and we discovered that he lives two floors up from our apartment with his girlfriend. His name is Pat.
I had been stewing about my day during most of the walk home, but after that coincidence I felt much better. It'd be great if that sign I left for Rehana and her roommates brought about a similar pleasant feeling. Hopefully it brightens someone's day.
I'm beat. I'm going to my delicious bed now.
posted by Emily at 1:12 a.m.
3 Comments:
That's a whole lotta paragraphs to say "nothing"!
wow.. I hate the Pussy Cat Dolls too!
Funny. I talked to you that night before you left and after you got home. And we probably crossed paths on Bank street as I walked past that man listening to that song as well.
Now, I would generally assume that he just listened to it on repeat, but I also saw him urinating.
So. Just one more coincidence of location.
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