Yesterday I had lunch with Wayson Choy. He introduced himself and I shook his hand. It was a very high school cafeteria-esque setting for the lunch break on the first day of the week. I've never read any of Choy's books, so I didn't have much to say to him, but he seemed nice and thought the chicken was too salty.

Other writers popping up this week: Paul Quarrington, Lisa Moore, Alistair MacLeod. Yesterday I saw M.G. Vassanji give a talk on being a writer as well as some other folks that have come out of the program and had their works published. There was also a joint talk between the writer I'm assisting, Joseph Kertes, and his agent. I'm going to be grateful for these insights. I've missed hearing people talk about the craft. Shari Lapena divulged that she writes on a schedule of 1000 words a day, while Anthony De Sa bluffed his way into getting a manuscript written and accepted in three weeks. Ian Colford said that he was only successful in getting a novel published once he wrote the one he wanted to write, rather than the one he thought editors might want to see. The message I'm constantly receiving is that the quality of any writing is entirely subjective. As a result, writers fail pretty consistently at getting their work out. And successes can take one by complete surprise.

I had a conversation with a teacher of philosophy at Humber about reading and writing. She asked me what I did. I told her I was in between figuring things out.

Kim and I are going to be on pretty similar schedules, and I think I'll probably end up seeing more of her than Matt. Last night I went grocery shopping for junk. Adam came over and we played Gears of War for the XBox while Kim and Matt attended a dinner for the authors and staff at Humber.

Last night I had a very vivid dream that Canada was bombed. Ottawa was laid to waste and I walked outside through the wreckage in a post-apocalyptic daze.

I got together with Jim, Adam, Connelley and Martin yesterday at the Royal Oak for a pint before heading out to the west end to play some Wii. Kathryn, Adam's wife, is extremely pregnant. Dorothy is still alive and kicking and bitchy. Martin and I grabbed the last 95 running, and when we got on the driver said they were sending a new bus from Lincoln Fields because someone had thrown up on the bus we were on. Lo and behold, the second bus never came, so Martin and I cabbed it from Carling and Woodroffe.

I messed around with Reason yesterday, using the drum loop unit and a couple of synthesizers. So far so good.

The hangover has passed. Andrea came over last night and we watched Contact. This morning we got up and went to her place for a delicious lunch before her class.

I finally have the iMac I wanted. Last night my brother said he wouldn't have the computer shipped to my place until I sent him a cheque and it cleared in his account. It was kind of a dickhead move on his part, some bullshit ego thing that allows him to exert authority. I wouldn't have minded so much if he hadn't stated it from the beginning. He KNEW I wanted the computer as soon as possible. I kept bugging him about it. But fuck him. I paid the extra $160 and I have it today.

The monitor is huge. It's almost TOO big. I'm looking up at it like the monolith in 2001. I love new toys. We'll see what this baby can do.

It looks like I won't be starting the job until closer to the end of the month, until my security clearance takes effect and the Senate is back in session. I should take the opportunity to get started on some web work I've been intending to do.