august 23, 2001. 11:34 a.m. music: "My favourite things," John Coltrane I'm sitting on a patio next to a tableful of noisy Baptists. It's kind of cute - they gossip & chat & every once in awhile break into metaphor about the Kingdom of God. There's a Baptist conference at the University this week, meaning that campus has been over-run by nicely-dressed adults and well-behaved children. It's a plague I tells ya! A plague of the polite and kind! I did have to pick up a chocolate wrapper that some little boy carelessly let flutter to the ground, but he could've been anybody's kid. Baptist or...other. The other good thing about noisy Baptists is that I can turn up John Coltraine to isolate myself without guilt. I'm on a bit of a French leave at this point. I came into work at the usual time, but since I had an appointment across campus at 10 a.m., and I have another afternoon of funfunfun work-related presentations starting at 1 p.m., I've kind of gone on an extended lunch. I just can't summon whatever motivation is neccessary to haul my heavy computer up the hill, just to set up for an hour of work. Does that sound right to you? In a sane world, there would be international conventions supporting me on this. As it is, there's just me going AWOL with my laptop, my free-form jazz, and a table of noisy Baptists. Last night was a bit less of an adventure than I could've hoped for. The basic problem I have when I go out with Hermione in the middle of the week is that it makes me miss my Angels unbearably. I miss Agamemnon showing up at my door at 9 p.m. on a Monday night. I miss Paris paying for a pitcher because I didn't have any money for beer on a Wednesday. I miss the gaggle of testosterone on display at the Victory Café: Tymothi:J, the Saints, and Dirk's inevitable plate of fries. I really like Hermione. But she is not my boys, individually or as a group. Anyhoo. Last night she did me the huge favour of dying my hair in her big, empty apartment, so I was socially, ethically and morally obliged to do facial masks during Law & Order and go out for girlie drinks afterward. (Yeah, I suppose that it's not as onerous as all that.) And it was the most fun I've ever had at while sober at the Axe, even though my misanthropy flared up like a bad case of eczema. the post-Axe conversation with Hermione: "I like [ ], but she's a bit of an airhead." "Yeah. Nice though. You can tell that there's not a particle of meanness in her. Unlike us." "Oh god. I'm so bitter and cynical..." "Hey, you weren't the one who came back to the table, proclaiming that you hated everyone and everything so much today. And I was laughing, too, because I thought it was so damn funny, how much hating I was doing." "True." Ah, misanthropy. I still don't know where this latest episode comes from. Maybe my misanthropy comes from the Axe. Maybe I'm just in the home stretch of Toronto anticipation, and getting ready for the hate-everyone city experience. Or maybe I don't really hate everyone; I'm just drawn that way. this time 2 years ago: the University of Nic