Sitting at the kitchen table with Mark last night. He’d been out drunken dancing (with Frosh). Sitting with his brown paisley dress shirt open, showing his skinny Jew-Boy chest. We’re eating pretzel sticks dipped in spicy hummus. His friend is sitting at the table talking about economics. So, we figured out that you make money by
1) Connecting locations in space (import-export)
2) Connecting people
3) Taking a bunch of crap and building it into more desirable crap
4) Lending shit out to people
Basically by doing some mundane thing that society needs. We were thinking that Zippers is a good hustle. Took a moment to check our crotches for the YYZ mark that we’re all branded with. Except me, I got hip and useless button fly. Fuck the man.
The Econ kid leaves and I’m sitting with Mark, trying to dig out the rest of the hummus like a damned dirty ape.
It’s 3 o’clock in the AM. Whatever substances everyone were on are wearing off. So we’re talking. Telling Mark that these days actually make me very very anxious. Everybody’s getting back into town, people are moving in, calling me, offering me Web jobs and money for the first time in my life, which is all good… but it’s a lot of change. Change Change Change.
It makes me dizzy.