Saturday, March 26, 2005

So it is -- tonight

I smell like smoke.

I only smoke when I'm drunk, or I'm particularly affected -- or both.

Tonight it was both.

I don't believe in horoscopes, but why is it that the only girls who have ever had any kind of pull on me are Aquarius? There are three of them. One I married, one left her husband as a result of me, and the other ... is the other.

On my desk in front of me are little buttons. The kind you pin on your collar or your bag, or (if you're like me, or Steven who I used to work with) the pocket of your jeans. They have on them names and tiled patterns representing all of the downtown subway stations in Toronto.

The subway is a place where I can lose myself in everything around me. I can listen to my music and imagine who all these people are, or imagine myself hiding in the dark corners of the tunnels between each stop. I am a werewolf, I am a vampire. I have incredible powers and I am outcast -- alone.

That's who I am tonight.

Outcast and alone, but powerful, and entirely myself. Entirely on my own.