I’ve been to far too many bars this week. We’ve hit one almost every day for a while now… There was Studio 54 (nice looking, bad DJ), Club Montreal (bad looking, best DJ in town), O’Leary’s (very east coast pub looking but with jazz fusion on open mike night), the AQ (student party night but dead), O’Leary’s again (even more east coast looking because they sang “Barretts Privateers”), and finally the 3 Mile tonight (worst ever). There’ll be no more of that, though, since I start work on Monday.
While driving home tonight, I was feeling pretty bad, like an ass, and all around bummed out from events prior, and wanted to listen to some depressing classical music. Something in an adagio. (Besides, I could have used the break after all the R&B at The 3 Mile.) So I tune to my trusty CBC Radio 3, only to hear some crazy amateur 80′s synthetic poetry rock crap. The late night host said that everyone there in the studio listened to the album and “really dug it”. Go figure.
The night was saved though by this one perfect moment. I was driving home on the Mackay Highway, along the bit roughly parallel to Rothesay Avenue through all those hills (I want to call them mountains, though, because of the way the highway is carved right through them, creating big rock cliffs on either side). Through the rear view mirror I could see the city lights behind me, almost in an aerial view because of the way that part of the city is built up the side of the river valley. And though the mirror was bright with the orange and yellow spots of city life behind me, the road ahead was absolute darkness save for my own headlights. There were no other cars to be seen and the cliffs blocked out the city that I knew still lay on either side. I was alone. It was very surreal. I wish I could have taken a picture, but for now the image lives only in me. So it goes.