A rainy night in Toronto

Last night my host unkindly threw me out of his apartment. The episode had all the trappings of a Roger Corman fright night: cold, rainy night, a lost newcomer in the big city, a controlling antagonist.


Never mind the rain, it is totally unforgivable that I was sent packing johnny-on-the-spot. But I wasn't worried. I've been through worse---much, much worse---and, anyway, was ready to go at the drop of a hat. As the scouts cry, Always be prepared! And I was.

Reloaded MY things in my two suitcases and was out of there in under twenty minutes. The indian giver even took back the stuff he gave me. Talk about class! Imagine: inviting someone over and then tossing him out. You'd think I had stolen something. Fuck him. Though tasteless I am not bothered by that either. I left with what I came with, including my dignity and an ever fixed distrust of any "friend" over forty.

The apartment was beyond nice and comfortable but material stuff doesn't hold much of a trance over me. And I do dislike the notion of being kept. Am too independent and straight for that shit. No golden handcuffs for me, thank ye very little. Now if a wealthy divorcee enters my life, well....

Always be prepared! And I was

Luckily after leaving the bar, which, by the way, was the initial---and un-suspicious and totally innocent---plan of the evening, I found a hostel just two blocks away. Sweet!



This cool cat may not always immediately land on his feet from a fall but I'll be goddamn if I crawl and grovel to any man.