In the afternoon I
went to teach my yoga class and was disappointed when a student actually showed
up. It was Anna though, my most regular yogini. Almost every pose I gave her to
do produced a cramp in her leg.
Afterwards, since I
was already dressed and rolling, I decided, rather than going home, to just
continue up to Bloor and to take my bike ride. Traffic is actually much heavier
at 15:30 than it is at my usual 18:00 though. I had to squeeze between machine
and curb, a long row of cars jammed up along Brock Avenue. I guess it was the
pick up one’s kids after school rush hour, or maybe it was just that Friday’s
regular rush hour starts early.
When I ride out
somewhere far I always feel like something is dragging me back. It seems so
much quicker coming home. I went to Broadview and then north to Hillside Drive,
which is a curved dead end. A saw a woman sweeping her driveway while wearing
her purse.
While I was riding
down Yonge Street, a northbound taxi was turning left on Gerrard. I had the
right of way, so I kept on going in front of him. As I passed he said, “Fuck
off!” and I assumed it was to me.
I’ve
been watching a couple of episodes of the first season of Gunsmoke every night.
It wasn’t even close to being as good a show as Bonanza was. Bonanza had so many
dimensions to it with the history of the father and his sons from three
different mothers. It was also better written and better acted. Gunsmoke has a
town doctor that is even more annoying than McCoy on Star Trek. The old
physician barks while he speaks and he’s so tense that he looks like he’s
going to have a heart attack himself. I also wonder if Dennis Weaver needed
physiotherapy to correct how it must have screwed up his body while performing
his role as the limping Chester.
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