Communique numero uno

Good morning, good morning. The sun is shining and somewhere in the 'burbs birds are singing.

No, I don't want a Metro, thank you, and I don't want 24 either. I prefer to live under a rock.

I want to write a paper about the effects of the free daily newspapers and the hundreds of minimum wage jobs they have created for people who smile and push them into your hands at skytrain stations on the economies and societies of metropolitan cities in Canada.

The free sample granola bar people are out in full force today. If you time your walk to work just right you might be able to get three or more but I never do. For some reason or other I'm incapable of greed, even when it involves things freely offered by transnational corporations. I will never understand that.

The man with the sign that says "picking up trash for your cash" is laying out on the corner again, with a blanket over his head. In front of him a small pile of sample granola bars are laid out as offerings, turning him into a makeshift shrine. I don't know what everyone is praying to.

I am at the moment typing on a French keyboard and that irritates mebecause it has a whole bunch of extra keys and the backspace button is a third of the size that it should be. Every time I try to press it I get \ instead. \\ \\\\\\\ It irritates me. Stupid things do.

The person sitting at the desk beside me is wearing some sort of perfume that quite literally takes my breath away. That is not a good thing. I need oxygen.