The Chronicle of a Shitty Day

I woke up at ten in the morning, noticing the conspicuous absence of the hot fuzzy sunlight that usually pours into my east-facing bedroom window by this time in the morning. There were funny cloud formations in the sky: yet another leaden day. I grunted, flipped listlessly through a few pages of the slightly trashy Foreign Babes in Beijing, and went back to sleep, only to wake up at one in the afternoon, head throbbing, nauseaus and hung-over with sleep.

The flip side of sweet languor is obtuseness.

I stared unseeingly out of the window while lying on my back, clouds inching across the sky and rain drops rattling the window. There was (a lot of) work to be done and no motivation to do it; I felt really lonely; by my pillow was Foreign Babes in Beijing and its ludicrous cover--I couldn't even get up, let alone face the day.

I finally dragged myself out of bed at three in the afternoon and arranged a coffee date with a friend, at no place other than the Chinatown Starbucks. Sad how this unspectacular event was the highlight of my day. We people-watched, chatted about how Jude Law and Sienna Miller made an appearance at the humble store my friend worked at; I was informed that I tend to unconsciously make inappropriate jokes in the presence of girls.

The rain had let up by the time I was walking back. A weird diffused light descended upon the streets of downtown Toronto, investing the scene with a ugly luridity--the wet, gritty alleys, the overgrown, weedy gardens, and the chain-link fences--stuff I've walked by a million times but only somehow choose to see on occassions like this. I chuckled at myself.

Well, everyone gets to be ridiculous once in a while. Might as well get it over with on a Sunday.

I suddenly want a facebook account.