so, my laptop went at the beginning of may. i might still be able to fix it, but it's going to be of reduced value to me because i'm probably going to lose the microphone (which is in the screen). if you take the microphone out, the only other benefit of fixing it is that the board is expandable to 16 gb of ram. the board on the backup laptop is only good for 4 gb, which is a low limit for 2017. right now, i'm scraping by with 2.

the other day, i had to send an email to my maternal grandmother - a septuagenarian with an impressive stock portfolio and an ottawa construction magnate millionaire very longterm boyfriend - explaining that i couldn't call her back because i don't have a microphone in my backup laptop. i'll either have to find a way to fix my board, or get a microphone, and there's nothing i can do until then.

so, she's going to send me a check for a new laptop so i can call her over google voice.

thanks nana :)

so, what's the story about last night? i haven't had a night like that in a while; i used to narrate these kinds of evenings, when they happened more frequently. so, i'll tell you the story of last night...

i started off the night at an art show that kind of quickly descended into absurdity. it was supposed to be a performance of cage pieces, and began that way, but quickly collapsed into something that seemed only very loosely attached to cage. basically, they had two djs spinning for what seemed like an hour. the music wasn't the problem; there should have been people dancing. but, the combination of a pretentious art crowd and an unlicensed space sucked the life out of the party. i want to be clear that it was a contradiction, rather than a failure. people wanted to sit in their chairs and observe, but there wasn't a lot to observe; the venue wanted people up and dancing, but that doesn't happen after having a few red bulls at 8:30, as a stop on your way home from your practicum. it didn't make any sense.

i initially thought the dj set would finish relatively quickly, so i went outside for a smoke. i bumped into an older black guy out front that was also smoking, but smoking a different and more fragrant substance. he shared a little of that. we talked a few minutes. i mentioned i was going to the gay club (near the boundary between city and suburb) for the night, as it was open late on this night. i went back in without him, and left to catch the bus on woodward about a half an hour later.

he must have waited outside and followed me. stalked me, essentially. and, it almost failed. see, i got to the bus stop the moment the bus was pulling in; this was coincidental, not planned, so i didn't have the fare ready and i had to sort through my pockets for the right change, which left the bus sitting for a few seconds. this was long enough for him to catch up behind me, get on the bus after me and attempt to pay the busfare for me. i didn't look up to see who dropped the dollar in, and just went with it.

i did sit beside him; sort of - across the aisle, anyways. he wanted to talk about music from the 60s-80s period, which is a topic i'm known to engage in, but he was mostly name dropping things i've generally been disinterested in (hall & oates, depeche mode) or things i actively dislike (yes, elp). he was rambling, really. once in a while, he got around to a few things i could engage in (peter gabriel, john lennon), so i humoured him out of politeness. but, i mean what does one really do when this old guy wants to talk to you about music from before you were born? you either sit and listen politely, or you be rude and get up and move, but you probably sit and listen politely. he initially made it seem as though he was going to ferndale, which is just outside technical detroit, but slowly shifted his destination to align with mine. it was when i was sitting on the bus that i first realized i was dealing with a stalker.

my initial reaction was to get away, so i got up and walked to the front of the bus and stood beside the bus driver, feigning an unclear sense of direction. he quickly got up, walked to the front of the bus and indicated that he was getting off at the same stop, so i should go back and sit with him.

i did not go back and sit with him. however, he did follow me off of the bus.

i need to clarify a few things at this point, as you may be skeptical that he actually followed me across detroit to a gay bar. how do i know he wasn't going there, anyways? well, to begin with, he indicated he was heterosexual, but extremely trans-curious; it had something to do with a transgendered girlfriend that he had back in the 70s. i have no way to know if he was really partying with david bowie at the time, or if he really works for the pop artist he claims he works for. second, he indicated repeatedly that he hadn't been in this space for a long time, so long that he wasn't sure how long. 25 years? 30? 35? he couldn't remember, and wasn't consistent. but, he made it clear he didn't frequent the area. third, i found out in the course of the night that he's 66 years old. for reference, my father would be 60 years old today, if he were still alive.

the truth is that he all but admitted to following me, and i believe i had already made it clear, through body language, that i wasn't happy about it.

he nonetheless seemed to think he was doing me a favour in escorting me from the bus stop to the bar. my assessment of the neighbourhood was far less dire than his - as is the case of most places in detroit, the area struck me as more empty than dangerous. he gave me a bit of a history lesson, though. he saw the clash in that building, which is now decaying ruins. there was a muhammad ali title fight in that other building, which is boarded up. and, over there is where the bookies used to work, which was the reason people came to this street. it seems like the gay bar is the only thing left standing, and he seemed a little taken aback by it.

this is what will be left when the society collapses: gay bars, coney islands and churches.

this 'gay bar' in detroit is actually three bars that are interconnected. the area i wanted to move to was running late, so i went into the main complex to wait. he instantly offered to buy me a pitcher, which i clearly declined. i obviously can't be accepting alcohol from strangers, as it is not clear if it's tampered with or not. the situation made it a real no-brainer; it was something i couldn't even contemplate. this is in addition to the obvious signalling problems attached to accepting beer from strangers that are following you...

it was at this point that i made it clear to him that i needed some space, that i came to the bar to dance by myself and that whatever altruism he thought he was engaging in was converting itself from misguided to problematic. i bought my own beer and walked to the dance floor.

he followed me and tried to dance with me. i stepped away; he continued. so, i went out to the patio. he followed me out there, too.

the patio allowed me to renormalize the situation by expanding the conversation to include several other people. i was able to talk to other people; he found himself talking to other people. it was a more healthy environment for everybody.

unfortunately, he tried to give me another drink by buying it and placing it in front of me. i again refused, and explained to him why - he went away and came back with a drink and put it in front of me. i'd be insane to drink that. it could have anything in it, from ghb to cyanide. he was obviously hitting on me. and, i mean, what if he's some kind of cia agent trying to take me out and make it look clean? i'm serious. i don't know that he isn't. why would i take that risk?

a little before midnight, i got up to take some pills and when i came back, he was gone. he didn't finish his smoke; he thought i had left and went outside to look for me. i was actually planning on moving to the other side of the complex. as happened with the bus, he walked in as i was paying and offered to pay cover for me.

that's the third time, now. i was starting to get pissed off.

"NO. please don't."

he again followed me on to the dance floor, and i again ignored him, but he did actually disappear after about an hour or so; i think he was gone before 1:00. i made it a priority to make sure he could overhear me when i claimed i would be there until 5:00. and, perhaps he had a wife at home and a consequent functional curfew...

i spent the rest of the night apprehensive about leaving. i had given him a third of my cigarettes, and had consequently run low, but i didn't want to walk out for more, because i wasn't sure he wasn't still out there. and, what had i learned about this guy over the last couple of hours?

1) he follows people around in the shadows, then sneaks up on them.
2) he doesn't listen when you say "no".

so, i ended up bumming smokes.

i had decided at some point that if he was around then he probably meant to catch up to me on woodward, so i planned to circle around the block instead. but, the bartender saw the situation as it was unfolding and, on his own volition, offered to gave me a lift home instead. we stopped for eggs first. and, i caught the 5:55 bus by a hair. props to the bartender....

i need to be clear that i didn't pick this guy up at the gay bar; i picked this guy up at the art show. he wouldn't have gone anywhere near the gay bar if he hadn't trailed me there. so, if there's somewhere i need to avoid, it was the first location. but, i don't think that's entirely fair, either.