Urgh. Our air conditioning is broken. I wish the computer was in my room so I could just sit here stark naked and type. Instead I am clad in a terrycloth robe which at the moment feels like eskimo garb. My forehead and cleavage are damp with sweat. Very sexy. I'm drinking water by the gallon. Ahhh, water. So tasteless. So perfect. Earth nectar. Or something.

James and I packed up a storm yesterday ... especially James. He's the pack-mastah. Last night we walked to the Bishop & the Belcher in the rain, arms around each other sharing an umbrella. Awwwwwwwww. It was fun. We drank Stella and played Battleship. He kicked my ass. I may or may not have cussed and growled at him. He knows I love him passionately, though, so if I did in fact do that, you can be sure he handled it well. Yes indeed.

Tonight I hung out at Crystal's place. It was a fun, relaxing evening. Well, we vented about stuff a bit. But that's therapeutic, right? Yeah. I also had food from Lick's, even though the last time I ate something there I was violently ill with some sort of food poisoning the very next day. I'm hoping that was just a fluke. I happen to quite like their food, even though I find the restaurant decor and tradition of having the cashiers and cooks yell out orders in silly code (Lickspeak) and singing bad songs during busy hours incredibly tacky.

Tomorrow I have school, and we're watching Where the Spirit Lives, a film based on the early Native reservation schools, which stars Native actors, but was directed and produced by a bunch of white people. I remember having to watch it in grade seven, and they thought they were "opening our minds" and teaching us what we needed to learn about Canadian heritage ... the good and the bad. But really, what the hell do a bunch of white folk know about ... bah, nevermind, I don't feel like ranting. I just don't like the film. Fortunately, we're supposed to be watching it critically, not so much watching it to learn about Native life in the reservation schools. I wouldn't mind learning more about that, but I wouldn't trust a piece on the experiences of Native Indians that actual Native people had little to nothing to do with in regards to creation, direction, and production. Seems insulting.

Damn, is it hot. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and pour a large beaker of ice water over my naked body.

Bye for now.

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