Apocatropolis

I have always loved that fantasy in which some flesh dissolving agent, be it nuclear, chemical or biological, has removed all other people from the city, leaving me (and perhaps some River Phoenix-looking vigilante) alone to explore the reminants of a fragmented society. I used to imagine going into the Harbour Castle in Toronto (my aunt used to live there and it was the Ritziest place I'd ever come across) and searching through all those posh apartments for the necessities of life. Perhaps burning piles of LL Bean catalogues to keep warm. I was always worried about how long canned goods would last, but not to the point where I imagined myself as some Snowman type character, fighting off wild animals for years-old cocktail wienies.

{I was terminally shy in high school and would spend countless hours daydreaming of just such a fate. HEY! If you grew up in a cultural vacuum like I did, you would have done the same. The only street-cred I had in high school was being one of the only two kids within a 50km radius who had access to a satalite dish in the early 90's (read: MTV and HBO). Now ask me why I pine for Julie Brown ("J,J,J is for Julie, U,U,U I love U too-ou-ou, L,L,L love you oh so truly..." I could go on).}

Anyway, where was I going with this?? Oh yes, (I'll call this my Virginia Woolf stream-o-consciousness blog). So I recently stumbled across this website and it stirred up in me that long retired fantasy of being the only person alive in a vast concrete museum. Part of me wishes I had the nerve for urban exploration but the social conditioning has worked depressingly well on me. Sadly, I just don't have the chutzpah. My heart pounds and I get all squeaky until I just cave and gasp "Let's just get outta here". The closest I ever came was when myself and two friends after a show at a local hotel, and after many buckets of ice cold Sols, discovered on our way out, that the pool was unlocked and went for a little unauthorized dip.

sigh.