Richie and the Buttless Chaps

Last night Rich took my out ("I want you to take me out") to the Railway Club (I've never been -I'm not "with it") where I met some of his friends and listened to some excellent music. I never thought I could take a band called "The Buttless Chaps" seriously, but their music was sonorous, resonant. I've often felt at live shows, where the music is blasting and I am swaying, a pulse running through my solar plexus and exiting through my back. Jonathan says this has something to do with sympathy. Anyone who knows me well knows that I react to emotions in a very physical way. A bad break-up will leave me feeling nauseous and I can't eat for weeks (this is good for the waist-line but bad for the soul). Academic stressors will cause me to break out in cold sweats. If I am around someone who makes me nervous (I've been serving profs in the pub all week) my hands tremble and my legs feel spidery. With the music, I can feel it pulsing through the place where my lungs meet; I had to leave the stage because I felt myself welling up.
I enjoyed meeting Rich's friends. Parmeeta (sp?) is something special; wild, ebullient, beautiful, easy to talk to. Derrick (sp?) is, as I suspected, incredibly sweet. He has incredibly delicate features; he is very tall and very thin. His appearance makes me want to ruffle his hair. Derrick has been called "the next SFU President." I'd vote for him, I can't imagine Derrick doing anything in malice. But then again, I voted for Shawn H. Although, as my earlier blog post speculated, I always sensed that there was something disingenuous about him; Shawn is a true politician in this sense.
We ate at Denny's at 3am. I had a truly decadent meal: a strawberry milkshake followed by a slice of cheesecake with strawberry topping, and a side of breakfast sausages.
The theme of the week seems to be "The Peak" editor's pregnancy. Mike H. is 21 (I think), very boyish looking and has a mouth full of braces to match. Apparently we went to high school together (Seycove) and studied Russian Lit under Stouck this past summer. After my experience with Leaf and his 8 year old, and now hearing about Mike's impending baby, I've been thinking a lot about babies. I think I want one. Not now, obviously, but within the next 5 years? Maybe I'm just feeling lonely. I can't help but think that these kids with babies are somehow more fulfilled than I am. They seem to have it together. Freaky. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a mini-me (and it would be a mini-me, dammit!). I told Derrick that I've started feeling as my mother did when her biological clock started to tick, tick, tick, tick. I can see myself looking for a mate to have a baby with. Someone I consider healthy, good-looking, intelligent, and (this is going to sound weird) perhaps someone who looks like me. Malcolm and I were often mistaken for siblings, and I always assumed that ours would be a child with a big nose, Slavic cheekbones, who was tall and lanky, with blond hair and pale eyes.
When I was strictly anti-baby I planned to get my tubes tied as a pre-emptive strike against baby mania. I guess I'm too late.
Lastly, my student loan hasn't been cashed yet. I want to go shoe shopping! Last night, I bought a Mac. Artsy asshole!