The New Sense

Monday, July 29, 2002

I'm really excited about B— coming back. I must have spent an hour chatting about him to Vlad, who seems to be a fixture in the bar first thing in the morning. He joked about getting a fireman's pole installed, so he could just get out of bed and slide down it straight into his regular seat at the bar, with a bowl of café au lait waiting. I asked him what he does (he's about 23, maybe) in Montreal, as I've heard so many stories of the Russian mafia having a huge foothold here. What he answered didn't really assuage my suspicions, as he told me he's in the import-export business. Oh well, he's an entertaining guy. He's a little bit macho, though. He told me if he was my boyfriend he wouldn't go to the other side of the country for ten days and leave me alone in Montreal.
I went around to Dad's this evening. He's so sad-funny. He really should have his own adjective. He sat there talking to me the same way he would when I was seven, which is no more appropriate now than it was then. His long hair is thinning, but he still looks the same — a pseudo-intellectual lost in his own world, lost in his own past and his lost dreams. He's sad-funny. I know when I tell him about the baby he's just going to say, "Oh, that's good," and then drift off into a pot-inspired ramble about himself and what he was doing when I was born.

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