Had enough time before acupuncture today to nip into the Duff Mall and check for summer pants, which were not there. Nipped out, unlocked bike, and found bike was somehow not locked at all. Down to Dundas, find a post, and lock won't lock. Somehow- and I wonder how- the casing had got shifted about so the tumblers inside wouldn't come out far enough, or came out too far, to catch the legs. Spent five minutes rapping it and twisting it so the holes were even, dropping both parts regularly as I tried to turn my key and couldn't. Managed at last, not sure I could get it off later: and indeed, it was touch and go. Resigned to spending $100 plus on a new lock, I came home and tried, as a last resort, some WD-40; and that seems to have done the trick. Next time I'm there I lock it to the inconvenient bike stand, not one of the iron benches where people can try to hack my lock.
I know certain people sing out of tune because they're famous for it- Dylan and Cohen, chiefly. I have no ear at all so it doesn't bother me. Who does bother me is Joni Mitchell. I don't know if she's off-key or not, but she sounds it to me. And of course her voice is annoying in and of itself: scratchy and shrill, with moments of utter dork. (End of Big Yellow Taxi, anyone? Hee-hee-hee, Joni.)
But her voice is perfect for Free Man in Paris, which I love and have had playing in my head for some days now. It was my theme song in the 80s when I actually intended to live in Paris at some point, and never did because I recognized that Paris had no use for me at all. Or at least, French Paris didn't; I might have got along OK in immigrant Paris where there are (some) other big and clumsy people around. I went to Tokyo instead, where I was still too big and too clumsy, but at least the Japanese don't expect other people to embody the values they themselves express. The French, alas, do.
