She came and picked me up on her scooter. We were ridiculous and scooted from Harbord/Spadina to Bloor/Spadina, which is really just a five-minute walk (or a two-minute scooter ride). I wanted to be frivolous and to treat myself, so I made Kate scoot us over. Self-love, right?
We talked relationship problems (hey, what’s new?!), Xanax and the economic crisis over food that neither of us actually wanted to eat. Kate was too hung over to look at food. I just haven’t had an appetite for the past four days.
It was so nice to have an hour where I wasn’t physically alone with my own thoughts. Because that’s what I did all day at front desk – receive books, unfold cardboard boxes and listen to music that made me feel sick to my stomach.
Not wanting to go home to an empty house and to be stuck with my fucked up self, I called Kate to see what she was up to. Thank the lord she hasn’t gotten sick of me and invited me to go to the Drake for a poetry slam.
Finally got home at 7:45 to drop off my shit. Turns out Kate was wrong and there wasn’t actually a poetry slam at the Drake. I walked down to Queen anyway and thought I would just call Kate and Jen when I got to the area. When I got there, I gave Kate a ring to no avail. Twice. Text: once. No response. I found a bench outside the Drake and just sat down. It was a good thing the weather was nice. I was way too physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted to try to look for those two. I just decided to sit on the bench and watch people go by until they called me. I was too tired to even be annoyed. Turns out Kate and Jen were just six storefronts down from the Drake, at Lot 16.
The moment I arrived, Kate told me to order a beer. I was hesitant at first because I only had three triangle pieces of pita with hummus for “dinner” and the whole getting-drunk-on-one-beer thing has been happening much too frequently lately, with my lack of an appetite and all. After 10 minutes, I said “Fuck it” and ordered myself a pint of Amsterdam Blonde. Kate congratulated me. I must be the only person in the “queer communities” I hang out in who gets congratulated for ordering a drink.
Jackie joined us not too long after. Conversations revolved around dogs (all three of them have dogs…or babies…there no difference to this dogless/babyless lezzie), sex, counseling, food and funny family stories. Jackie was classy and awesome. She bought a bag of pistachio nuts from the convenience store and ate it in the bar, covering the table with severed nut shells.
I wish I had the energy to join them at The Beaver, but really, who I was kidding. I was tired and having done inventory of how many hours of sleep I have been getting these days, it was probably a good idea to go home.
And I did.
And I slept.
Because three and a half to four and a half hours just isn’t enough.