The New Sense

Saturday, May 25, 2002

Finally asked B— where he gets his money from. I couldn't believe how evasive he was. That boy really has trust issues! I mean, if he got an inheritance from a rich uncle or something, why doesn't he just tell me? I'm pretty sure he didn't steal his money, so what the hell is the problem with telling me? But he wouldn't. He just said he's show me one day. What does that mean? Show me what? He's knows a leprechaun who leads him to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow whenever he's a bit short of cash? Well, sure, I'd like to see that.
If that's not it, then I don't know what he could possibly be showing me. I don't think he has a suitcase full of heroin and sells a couple of kilos every month or so. Very bizarre.
Went round to Lisa's garage sale this afternoon. Everyone's moving up to Mile End. B— had a great time — there were so many things that were just the right size. He ended up buying an ashtray for me. It really didn't seem to matter to him that I don't smoke or that it was hideously ugly — it was the shape and weight of it that was important. And you know what — he's right — it is just right. When you hold it it gives you a kind of solid, grounded feeling. Makes me think of his whole thing about sculpture — they are pieces of reality, not just representations. Reminds me of that really bad Elton John lyric: "If I was a sculptor, but then again, no."

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posted by Sara