O O Ø O O O O
Solstice Morning
I drop off my wife—via transit—at the lobby of her office. I hang around the foyer for a while, killing time before my planned engagement. I sit bolt upright in one of the lobby’s classic black Barcelona loungers, and sleep.
Walking down the avenue, an unseen church counts eight o’clock. This June 21 morning is brisk. After today the days will grow shorter.
At the doors of the Municipal Building—City Hall, the Castle—I exchange the recreational reading in my hand for the notebook and correspondence in my purse. The elevator in the atrium takes me to the blind orifice known as the counter.
A number, a newspaper, a rejection. What little charm I have runs up against beadledome-in-training. No rules are bent, no orange override button pushed.
I wait, make some calls to the inner sanctum of the Castle. The newspaper again, one more call. Drawbridge up.
Back in the daylight, I feel compelled to visit our new transit station. I count poles, pace off trees, making notes for the next time I’m asked to sort one of these out in plan. Later this afternoon, in all likelihood.
I test drive a city-standard transit bench. Kjell claims they are incorrectly oriented. Kjell is wrong.
I don’t fully understand the rhythm of the catenary poles across the street. Why don’t all of them carry lights?
Adjacent to the platform, I am bothered by the dead-end portico of the Telus building. If there’s no way through, it can’t be a portico: no traffic is carried. Semiotically: porticus, porta, portare, to carry. This is typical of Calgary’s troubled porticos.
Upstairs from the platform is a chai, which comes ensconced in a pleasantly lit café. I repose, and gaze at the curtain wall glazing set on the old brick, neither appreciating nor finding fault in it. There is simply aluminum followed by brick, like water following sand.
I read my book, and write this down.
Sometimes it’s just good to be urban.
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Folks, we’re still looking for a third writer.
There’s beer and glory in it, and we’re not as editorially intolerant as we come across.
Evan Spence
October 10, 2006
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