This morning I awoke to the clap of city thunder, raging at one thirty p.m. and crashing into my dreams like a mountain into an ocean. The acrid polyvinyl chloride smell from the toilet reminds me that Parkdale is being renewed, our turn of the century plumbing at least, and the adhesive fumes have a way of snaking up past the traps. I can hear an annoyed chinese man muttering to himself as he digs through our fruitless garbage looking for precious recyclables. I always, well usually, leave my beer and wine empties for the transients, but lately we have been collecting them out back and we are nearing a two four's worth in empties. The Beer Store is two doors down, our street is the gauntlet.

I'm trying to remember if my cell phone had rang like a million times or if is was just once. I quickly recall some drunken emails to this asshole Joe Cool Vegas who sold me a non-functional electronic item on Ebay, and who refuses to refund my payment including losses accrued through customs charges. His listing clearly stated the H3000 B + to be in 'mint mint mint' condition, I may have been scammed. When I asked for a prompt refund and return of merchandise he replied with,

'Don't think I'm you're gay bitch lover, and you're gonna boss me around.'

I had an introspective moment where I questioned the validity of his accusation, a nauseating flash vision of what I may have been hiding from myself. I, an obviously gay hissy man in a perpetual state of psychosis, my girlfriend a transsexual Korean man, all my friends gay. The alternate reality ended with a lingering snapshot of myself as a kind of aged and AIDS riddled Dr. Moreau falling off my wheelchair into the gutter. I guess it's time to get up, oversleeping puts me a foot outside of my optimal reality. I have to get offline, I'm getting home from the studio at three a.m. and spending four hours glued to the Macbook.

Beyond the mirror is a shadowy composite of my optimal self image, the magic spell has not broken, but it is working overtime to maintain the illusion. I think I'll spend my day off doing drugs, I need inspiration. The change in seasons and subsequent loss of light is depressing me and stunting my vibe. Golden Girls was feeling it too yesterday at the studio. We were hitting the grey brick wall while trying to record some vocals. What a handicap we have here as Canadians, this dead zone of winter that steals time and energy. I suppose if you can make friends with the winter blur, you can better your standing with death.

We work so hard, you and I, but like the space between the stars, will we ever make it to this love of ours?