George's Hangout

            On Tuesday I had an appointment with George Elliot Clarke to talk about my essay, so I tried to get a few more ideas down before printing up my six pages of mostly quotes and then riding to University College.

            George had said to meet him in the Senior Commons room, the location of which I had no idea, so I stopped at the office to ask. There were three people talking about cute cat videos when I walked in. One young woman, rather than give me what she said would be very complicated directions, told me she’d take me there. Maybe she really just wanted to stretch her legs. She led me to the west end of the building and then downstairs, which was a route that I was actually familiar with for getting to one of the washrooms. The Senior Common room turns out to be right next door to the lavatory. The door was locked and George hadn’t arrived yet. I was fifteen minutes early anyway. Next door in a room called the Croft Chapter House, some students were carving pumpkins. Someone started to tell the group a story about a member of a U of T organization that was promoting African Canadian issues who ran off with $125,000 that had been allotted to the group. At that point in the story the door to the room suddenly slammed by itself. I guess they had the window open and maybe it created suction, but it was a spooky thing to happen in a building that’s rumoured to be haunted.

            George was a little late, but he escorted me into a beautiful old room that he told me is his hangout at University College. He asked me if I wanted a coffee and then showed how to work coffee machine that uses those little Starbucks filter pods that, when I get them from the food bank, I just cut them open and pour them into my French press. Instead of a cup, he dug a container that looked like what one would receive if one ordered a sundae to go, from a bag in a filing cabinet.

            The Senior Commons Room has kept the rustic feel of the old college. Some of the furniture is antique and that which isn’t, like the black leather couch, looks like it was carefully selected to not clash with the more ancient decor. He informed me that the worn red carpet under the couch is over a hundred years old.

            He said that on December 5^th he would be using the room for the launch of his latest book of poetry.

            We sat at a long dining table and I showed him my beginnings of an essay. He said that he liked what I had so far, that there were some good images and commented that I’m a good writer.

            One of the things he pointed out was that I should never use the words “never”, “nothing” and “always” in reference to what the authors I am talking about do. He also warned me that I shouldn’t assume that when Musgrave is speaking in a poem about her daughter, that it is her actual daughter of whom she is speaking.

            He also advised me to look up the Decadence movement and say something about it in my essay.

            He said that I was welcome to hang out in the room, so I took him up on his offer. He went to buy his lunch and then came back to eat and read the paper. I plugged in my laptop and made some corrections to my essay based on his suggestions and on my own rethinking of the paper. For the most part I didn’t disturb his lunch or his reading, but at one point when he paused, he did ask him if anyone else from the class had made appointments to see him. He told me that they hadn’t and that he’s only gotten one email about the essay so far, but he expected to hear from more students as the deadline approached.

            I told him that I had a philosophy essay due two days after the deadline for the one for his class. He said he was going to tell me what a professor told him when he was in grad school: “Get used to it! There’s never enough time!”

            I asked if he’d prepared his talk yet on Beautiful Losers, but he said he hadn’t even re-read the book yet. He said, ”I’ll probably do that when I go to Mexico tomorrow.” I wondered if getting ready for a lecture like that is the same as preparing an essay. He told me that it’s exactly the same.

            I asked if I could take his picture, and he graciously agreed. I thanked him and he said he was glad he was photogenic for me. I took a couple of photos of the Senior Commons Room as well.

            At about three-quarters of an hour till class time, I left George to relax, while I went to the lecture hall, where I jotted down a few more ideas for my essay.