2004-08-25..7:10 p.m.

This afternoon I have several aims, but the one I like most of all is a mission M has requested (very politely), which is endeavour to look for a copy of Ulysses for his reading purposes. Not only would this mean he can read along with me throughout my course, but even if it never gets read, that sort of personal library decoration will always go down well with the lay-dees (or this lay-dee, in any case.) In fact, I might even pick up two copies. One for me too. To break in and mark up to my little hearts content (WITHOUT having to explain that my flatmates cats are handy with the old HBs and then look on sheepishly as the library people snip my card(s) in half like a degenerate.) That�s right. Two. Because guess what?!

Nope.

Not that.

Not that either.

O come on, you can do better than that!

Give up? Well, I�ll tell you. You are now reading the words of a �3000 credited, Goldcard carrying student-to-be. �3000!! THREE THOUSAND POUNDS. Can you imagine the sound of my jaw hitting the table? Can you imagine the heaping mess of saliva and tongue muscle I had then to stuff as calmly and nonchalantly as possible back into my awestruck gob? Can you imagine the poor bank clerk guy trying hard to avoid being clobbered by my eyes as they cartoonishly sprung forth from their sockets, bouncing skewif attached only by sinewy tendon? It was quite the sight. So there you are, you�re dear old Stanlee Jane Meepison is (according to the bank) worth a whole �3000 of interestable funds, plus I automatically qualify for �1000 overdraft. I just have to set that up (but that shall be done next week. One thing at a time after all.) It is to laugh that they give little moi that much floating currency with which to play. Indeed, I chortle.

If I tend to rant on about Toronto the Fabu, City of Peace and Glorious Harmony, please pass the ketchup for I am certain it will make your hat go down better. This morning at 8 EST, right in the middle of rush hour there was a HOSTAGE SITUATION at Union Station, the centre of one of the subway lines. A woman was shot and as the shooter ran away he grabbed another woman. The police killed him when he refused to release her and the woman who was shot is now in St. Mike's with head injuries. I can�t believe there was a hostage situation at UNION. It�s hardly Grand Central or Kings Cross, for fucks� sake. (Mind you, Kings Cross is decidedly unimpressive, no matter what the Harry Potter Lady thinks. erm.. Liverpool Street. We�ll go with Liverpool Street--now that�s a hostage situation worthy train station!) But seriously. I simply can�t imagine what could possess someone to take a hostage there. What was he going to do? Hijack a subway car and have it drive him to Finch? Demand the TTC give him a ten years� supply of free passes for all his friends and family? What a batshit crazy place we live in.

Speaking of batshit crazy: my trek down the Rabbit Hole this morning! Sheer fucking insanity! Not only did I see the Queen of Hearts plucking the bugle-faced petals from a tree, and two squirrels sat under a car and grinned until their toothy leers became one, but the passage that leads from Safeways to Holloway Rd suddenly started shrinking after I sampled a piece of oddly speckled cake given to me by an oddly lumpy old woman AND there was a quarry of boys hooping about on the backs of some Wee, grasping inkly pink flamingos about their inkly pink knees and using their heads to pot coconut shells into potholes. Freaky.

Please tell me I need no cookies. I need no crackers. None. I�m leaving at 5 today, huzzah huzzah! I�m in a weird mood.

****meep

Well now. It would certainly seem to be much later than before 5 o'clock, and there's a good reason for this. It is. I had to scrap any idea of posting this at the office due to the insane temperment of the office server, which (with increasing frequency) dumps such dreams into a cyber quagmire of forgotten hopes and lost ambition by crashing. It's an unceremonious severing. And a fall into a snotgreen (thank you, Mr. Joyce) drugding ether that suffocates upon entry. (Where did that COME from?)

Instead of making it to the Metropolitan Bookshop on Exmouth, I proceeded to march straight into the Sports Cafe for coffee and stolen Guardian. Given that today is full of Society thoughts, this is highly anti-social behaviour. However, intentions of possession are becoming obsession (say nothing of the fact I am starved for literature due to stupidly leaving ALL my library books at home), and thus may well find somewhere else to purchase.

At this very moment, I am most decadently being fed White Stilton and Cranberry on toast by M, and being handed fresh coffee. This deserves my fullest attention, so to you I say so long.

****meep (again)