The plan : meet tonight before The Heretic at Granville and Robson for ten o’clock.
I want to dance away the metres between here and then. Slide on the balls of my feet in some scientific network of choreography which lets me bypass my empty afternoon. I’ve been trying to get the laundry done for three days and whenever I crawl down to the basement with my bag, the machine has been taken. I tried at four in the morning but it was already full of g-strings and soap suds. Sequins wetly glittering in the low watt light.
There will be a windstorm later, nothing spectacular. I can tell by the trees bowing and waving outside my window. A cold air blast from the ocean tonight. It feels like fall today, the drifting into winter hibernation sway of weather and the sun going down later and later. Whispers of equinox just around the corner and masks made of leaves, like I used to make when I was little.
Strange to think it’s easter next or valentines day. Alicia’s sending out her Valentines Sux invites already. I’m planning on going, like I have every year. Last year Valentines was a depressing waste of time and the one before that I gave to someone but didn’t receive anything back, but her parties are always fun. Groups of people I wouldn’t otherwise get to see, brushing past eachother drunk. Goth folk and gamers, there’s been a core group which has remained unchanged over the years as on the side bit players come and go. I hear some of them are married now, having children, or living in other places in the world. Occasionally I’ll run into some of them in the city and we never quite know what to say. We know eachother, some better than others, but not enough to keep track of anyone’s lives. Bright moments of remembering names.