By chance I'm wearing a camouflage shirt that says "hiding out in northern ontario", those dark blue jeans where the yellow string seams show bright, unshaven, balding and I've got leather shoes that sort of look like running shoes. If I go out to the Seahorse I'll get approached by one of those generic rich pretentious hippy earthy and fake granola girls who talk emotive gibberish testing you to "say the right thing" to show that you "understand them". I should show up, smile and tell her to F off. Just because what I'm wearing is a complete accident. —Been in this city my whole life. Seen 5 generations of the same ones.