The time is 4:53. I have to catch a bus in 11 minutes at a bus stop that’s a 10 minute walk away. Shit—it just hit me. August is not July. It’s a tricky distinction but bus drivers tend to notice that sort of thing, especially when August has not been July for nigh on three days now. It’ll have to wait. The extra two twenty-five won’t bust my budget. That happened a few days ago, at one of the five times I bought lunch at work instead of making a sandwich.

A new rowing program starts today and its best to be on time, I thought. New coaches, new people, and a new boat as it turns out. A double. Twice as wobbly and twice as easy to make a mistake as the quad I’ve been rowing, but half as many people to make those mistakes so I guess it works out. We’re still dry by the end of it at least, despite some rather high waves at one point. It was a nice day on the water. At one point I was reminded, for the second time this week, of “Hazel! We’ve got lesbians!” and I’m now separated by two degrees from a McGill novice rowing coach. Too bad that doesn’t mean I’m any closer to making the team.

I need to buy a whistle.

On the way home I feel rather Japanese, so I put HY and Ketsumeishi on my mp3 player and stop into a little Japanese market. Tonkatsu sauce, $5 a bottle. Thirsty from being on the water in the sun I buy some Calpis Soda, not remembering at the time that Calpis Soda is not the same as Calpis. I should have bought the concentrate.

I continue my walk, up Denman and then Davie, which has even more rainbows than usual. All gay-ed up for a big gay weekend of big gay Pride. I always smirk when I see the city’s big gay newspaper being sold next to the regular weekly called STRAIGHT. It may actually be called “The Georgia Straight”, but the first two words are a tiny fraction of the size of the last, as if the paper feels the need to assert its masculinity in this very gay city.

There are many people on the street. Ahead is a perfectly average looking guy wearing a white t-shirt with a red person on it. I try to figure out who it is but give up quickly. We make eye contact and I look away, but I look back again and suddenly he gives me this big cute smile. Suddenly perfectly average guy is the cutest thing on the street, only because he smiled.

Have I mentioned that it always makes me happy when I see a stranger smiling? It’s like that time I thanked a girl for holding the door open for me and she said “You’re welcome!” I totally had a crush on her for the whole afternoon, even though I didn’t even see who she was.

On the bus back home, the ending credits music from Super Mario World came up in the shuffle, as if Mario and I are travelling back home together, him riding Yoshi and me riding a bus. Yoshi would be cooler, but I don’t mind the bus.

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