I arrive at my destination and I smile. I talk about Lars von Trier at the Elizabeth Murdoch and I try to move theatrically in the studio. Lunch time is where I hang around alone at the Union House. I peep up into the computing room full of iMacs, and I pass-by the queer lounge with a big six-coloured rainbow flag hanging proud and tall. Enthusiastic students attend to booths that represent their societies. I can never imagine myself doing that. Maybe as the president of a club where mongolians over-achieve by not doing anything to only expect disappointments.
The walk back to a place where I call "home" seems always longer. A daily affair. Weary and tired. The anticipation builds up as I am near Spring Street. The security gate that is not secure. The three sided reflections in the elevator that are not at all inspiring. And the door opens. The red couch and the green tables. Wonderful. Colours enhance the mood so they say. I am happy to see some company at last. My mate, my company.
Internet connection is such a wonderful invention. An endless realm that provides unlimited possibilities. I seek you. The little blue man. The invention that tries to empty the silence within yet heightens the loneliness. Contemporary culture. Developing online personalities. God created yubin, a straight yubin, a gay yubin, a bohemian yubin and an online one is the latest addition to the Disney store for cartoon characters.
One nice beer. Mindless chain smoking. How do you think Mrs. Woolfe has the ability to produce such sharp novels about details and life? They say people stay alive for one another. It is uncertainty and curiousity. To have the power of knowing what is going to happen to this story, to your story, to their stories. If omega ever arrives at all after all these hours.