It is 3 am, and I am wide awake, having indulged in my recent bad habit of sleeping all day: got out of bed at 7 pm! Well, I am a bit broke, so I could use it as an excuse to save a bit of cash: fewer hours out of bed, less money spent! A bit self-justifying. Anyway, got out of bed, showered, biked to Cafe Depot, ate, had coffee, continued to Paragraphe books, read NY Times, Globe and Mail, saw the same forlorn, homeless guy I see there all the time, with whom I once had a very brief encounter (about a minute) at the 456 Sauna, probably 7 or 8 years ago. Left at closing time, chatted with frenemy Travis on the phone, our first vocal contact in about 6 weeks. I had been trying to avoid him, and mulling over whether, or how best to, dump him by e-mail. A few weeks with no contact made me a bit more generous and forgiving, but our conversation today reminded me it may truly be necessary to dump him, unless our friendship can remain really back-burner. He yammered on about himself, his classes, his plans for school next year, and started yawning as soon as I started speaking. I guess if someone is truly fascinating and interesting, I don't mind playing second-fiddle, but it's not the case with him. He truly needs to learn that just because something happened to him, doesn't make it interesting. I also wonder sometimes if the fact that he speaks so slowly is a problem for me, a fast-talker who liked to digress a lot. Maybe I need to talk to other fast-talkers to remain interested in the conversation. Anyway, left the bookstore, began to bike home, and as I crossed on the green light on McGill College heading east along Sherbrooke, a fancy car turning left on Sherbrooke onto McGill refused to yield to me, which they're supposed to do. I kept advancing, until it became clear he wasn't going to stop. I started yelling at the 2 Middle-Eastern-looking douchebags I could see through the tinted windows, and actually began to give chase, but my shoelace got stuck in my pedal, and so I could only roll down the hill. They got all the lights, so it was hopeless, but I continued for a few blocks, even stopping to rip out my shoelace. I was high on the prospect of pulling up next to them and calling them "motherfucking, moronic little shitheads", something I have done to a few wayward drivers in the past year or two. What can I say? My patience for obnoxious, careless drivers has reached its limit. Of course, I obsessed over the incident for the rest of the night, wishing I had had a burger, a drink, or even a key in my hand, and had been able to either throw the food, or scratch the car with the key. At the moment the car passed, I briefly thought of kicking it, but my lace caught at just the wrong moment, and the car was probably moving too fast anyway. But just thinking of it right now fills me with rage, so I'd better sign off.