where am i?

With the advent of digital technologies, it is possible to create an artistic work that is no longer dependent on an imposed linearity; it is possible to allow the viewer to participate with the artistic work. The resulting experience is non-linear, circular -- it is an interaction with the artist. How a conceptual, literary "whole" is assembled from many components is directly dependent on its context. The work is re-invented with each viewing -- the work becomes conversant.

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map making : my here and now   the fundamental motions of walking are controlled by neural circuits located in the base of the spine

the brain makes general suggestions about such things as speed, direction, and foot placement, but walking is mostly an unconscious action

the simple rhythm of walking meters out a complexity of motion as unnoticed as one's heartbeat

as the legs move of their own accord, the mind is free to wander

i'm only just learning that i need to rein my mind in

the horizon presents an invitation and a barrier

there is the temptation to walk ever on, never stopping, leaving cares behind, disregarded, unresolved

when i was six, i travelled with my family from our forest-bound home to the ancestral farmstead on the flat, treeless prairie

when i got out of the car, the first thing i wanted to do was run to the top of "that hill over there"

my mom got a funny smirk on her face and say: "you go ahead

" so i ran, and ran





and ran, and then i had to slow down to a walk





and i walked a bit further and finally i stopped and realised that the hill was still as far away from me as when i had started

it was a frustrating illusion for a little girl who had grown up in the middle of maple forest and rocks, where trees told the truth about distance

so, disappointed and tired out, i turned around and headed back towards the farm

by appropriate coincidence, my favourite story at that time was rudyard kipling's riki tiki tavi, about a mongoose whose family motto is "run and find out"

this has long been my motto, so that consequently, i've spent a lot of my life running in hopes of finding things out

i have managed to find out a lot of interesting and exciting things, but i haven't often taken the time to pause and dwell on what i already know, and to take delight in the ordinary

just as i chased the prairie hill at age six, i've chased many other things that have seemed to remain just beyond my grasp, and in focusing on those things, failed to notice some of the other points of interest and branching roads along the way

rather than regret missed opportunities, i'm learning to slow down to a walk

i am trying to worry less about the horizon both in front of and behind me and instead simply wonder at the mystery that lies beyond my visible boundaries

i try to contemplate, rather than worry about the people far out of sight: the friends, loved ones, acquaintances, individuals who crossed my path only briefly

i make the extraordinary leap of faith in trusting that at this moment, they are well

i focus on where i am in this step, now, instead of where that next step will take me to

i draw my mind down into my spine, noticing the rhythm

  situ | contact | bio  

map making : birth   my brother was quite a few years old before he celebrated a birthday at home

i think each of the first two were observed on opposite coasts

we were always somewhere else during the summer

we were usually visiting several different sets of friends and relatives so his birthday would be celebrated multiple times

i was a little jealous of this, of course

my birthday was in the fall, during the school year when dad had to be back at work at the college, so my birthday was always marked just once, at home

of course, my brother's multiple birthdays meant that i had multiple opportunities for cake and ice cream, so i couldn't be too jealous

and i seem to recall that occasionally a relative would take pity on me and give me a gift too

one of my earliest memories is of one of my brother's birthdays on the road

i'm not sure where we were, but i remember being in the trailer, decorating a cake

or maybe it was in a friend's house

probably there were two cake decorating sessions for two different celebrations: one in the trailer and one in the house

i remember that at the trailer, the wind blew through long grass among sand dunes and a grey sky off rolled off of the sea

at the house there was sunshine and a white fence

i volunteered to decorate the cake (one of them, anyway)

i drew circus animals on paper and cut them out and then taped them to straws so that they could be stood up in the cake (undoubtedly with help from mom lest i cut myself with the scissors or suck icing off of the cake with the straw)

i have a vague recollection of an elephant

and a hat i might have made for my brother

i don't know

the sun made pretty shadows through the curtains

the damp air from the sea smelled of kelp

there was definitely a cake with white icing, far from home

  situ | contact | bio  

map making : person to be met : unknown   as i stood in the receiving line at my grandmother's funeral, i was taken aback by the number of strangers who knew me and not just by name, but knew things about me: what i was studying, my achievements, the things i liked to do

it was discomfitting and deeply moving at the same time

i realised that my grandmother had been terrifically proud of me and that i had been loved by her

after the reception we drove back to the house

i asked if we could stop up on the highway so that i could get a picture of the famous highway sign

no one back home believed me that this was where the highway started

i took the picture and then stood there in the silence of the snow that had begun to fall

i realised that i hadn't been in that part of the country for years outside of the summer months

the blunted red rock mountains were caked in snow, their profiles softened by the pencilled hash lines of the naked trees

the horizon was staining blue into purple as the day began to drain out of the sky

a pulp truck rumbled by and made its turn into the mill

then it was quiet again

snow and wood chips drifted across the road

i got back into the car and wondered at all the words that i had heard that day

    situ | contact | bio  

map making : person heard of : dead   when i was very young, the husband of my first cousin (once removed) was killed when he hit a moose with his truck

i didn't know my cousin very well, and i don't know that i ever met her husband

nonetheless, a vivid image was indelibly imprinted in my mind: there is a white truck, like a delivery truck or a sanding truck

it is moving along a highway framed by rock-cuts and black spruce

it is travelling down a bit of a hill

the man at the wheel, the husband, has dark hair and, actually, looks a lot like roy, the paramedic from "emergency

", my favourite television show at the time this image was formed

the moose walks onto the road, or perhaps its just standing there—i can't tell because i'm watching the truck

the truck hits the moose and at that point the image becomes more abstract, because i think this happened when i didn't yet have an adequate comprehension of what death was

i know i couldn't immediately grasp how a moose could kill someone in a truck

a truck seemed bigger than anything

i think i asked about this and someone explained that a moose can flip up onto the windshield

so then the image is: he hits the moose and then he just isn't visible in the truck any more, partly because the moose is in the way (looking much the same as it did when it was standing on the road, but upside-down) and partly, i think, because i just didn't have any notion of what happens to a person next

there isn't any grisly crash scene

the truck is simply no longer moving and a moose is stuck in the windshield

the husband is there, i suppose





but not there

i couldn't picture what was in the cab of the truck, behind the moose, so he just vanishes

ever since then, whenever i'm scanning the shoulders of the highway for moose, or i hear about someone hitting a moose— absolutely every time this happens, the first image to enter my mind is of my cousin's husband





disappearing

    situ | contact | bio  

map making : person to be met : known of   "i've heard so much about you

" this is such a strange thing to say, and a strange thing to hear

it's odd to know or be known secondhand

i sometimes wonder if it really is knowing at all

i was travelling to meet a person that i had admired for years, but only recently exchanged a few emails with

through a long chain of someone-who-knew-someone, she had found out about me and wanted me to design a website for her

why didn't i come down to her cottage because it would be so much easier to discuss things in person

i had seen her work, read her lyrics, heard her music, read interviews with her and read critical reviews of her work

i felt like i knew her and yet i knew that to be such an illusion

how large was the gap between the illusion and the reality

were they pretty close

i doubted it

could i possibly really get to know her, especially now, with all of the other stuff clouding my judgment

had i put her up on a pedestal

could i talk to her rationally or would i just make myself look like an idiot

did it matter how i made myself look

how important was it to me what she thought of me

it didn't matter, i told myself, but my leg was twitching like a live trout

i wondered, in consuming her work, how much have i coloured it with my own experiences, ideas and beliefs

how much of the value of the work was in my interpretation

wasn't that the beauty of it, perhaps, of all creative works— that dialogue between artist and viewer mediated through the work

well, it was generally kind of a one-way conversation

all right then, what happens when there's an opportunity for it to go the other way, for the viewer to respond

could the dialogue fall apart

what if i told her my thoughts on her work and i offended her

okay, now you're just talking crazy talk, i told myself

it wasn't going to be like that

you're thinking about this way too much

i had to shut my brain up and think about something else

this was just business, i told myself

we had something good and neutral to discuss when i got there: the website

that's all i had to think about: website, website, website

try not to be witty, i told myself, at least not right away or you'll just end up saying something lame

okay, i just told myself sixty seconds ago that that didn't matter

this conversation with myself is going in circles and is pointless

focus on something else

the highway had just left the level of the prairie to descend into a cut between soft green slopes, so unusual in this dry country

the cut opened out into a lush valley

a narrow river wound along the valley floor, now and again stopping to form wetlands sprinkled with thousands of migrating birds

a flock burst into flight and swirled above the water like sentient snow

dark stands of cottonwood spilled out of the coulees and crowded around the river

thin columns of white smoke rose out of the trees as people at their summer cottages fired up barbecues for dinner

kamikaze gophers skittered across the road

a hawk circled high on a thermal, looking for a dinner of its own

i found the red mailbox she had described in her email and turned onto the gravel drive

i followed this under the shade of the cottonwoods, down to the riverside to where her cottage stood

i stopped the car and shut off the ignition

i sat there for a moment, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine, collecting my thoughts

she was human

i was human

there were good reasons why i admired her, reasons why she had already made connections with me, even though we had never met

i had to just trust in that

i got out of the car, went to the door and knocked

  situ | contact | bio  

map making : person met : presumed living   after several days of walking in the rain, i was cranky

however, i wasn't cranky because of the rain, i was cranky because i was in danger of falling in love

to fall in love is to fall out of control

i don't like being out of control so, sometimes, i get snarly

it ain't pretty

cupid, i'll say, you poke me one more time with that goddamned arrow and i'm gonna turn around and pop ya

i don't like being under the influence of anything other than me

i have to be wary; i need to be on my guard

love is as dangerous as any narcotic and cupid is one sneaky little bastard

the bitter irony is that i'm hopelessly romantic

such a nice combo: romantic yet cynical and uptight besides

you can bet that i don't have a framed poster of those two fat, thoughtful looking little cherubs anywhere in my home

i work hard to put the "hopeless" in "hopelessly romantic"

oh sure, i fantasize

that's the problem

i try to tell myself that i'm not actually attached to that vision, that i can be flexible, i can lower my standards, sure, bend my ideal a little bit, you betcha

but in reality, i'm always extrapolating from current circumstances, imagining flaws, passing judgments, drawing conclusions and finally deciding, typically within a couple of days that "this is never going to work" and so i end it

sometimes this process only takes a couple of minutes

so when my heart up and tells my brain to "get stuffed" and goes off and does its own thing, my brain gets irritated and tries to find ways to trip the heart up, figuring out all the reasons why this love thing is a waste of time

so i was cranky

my heart was getting ready to sneak out of a side door and go have some fun, while my brain, ever vigilant, was getting suspicious and preparing to lay traps

i had hooked up with several other folks to do some hiking and now we were off of the damp trail and in a car, bumping across a faint, grass-covered track that meandered across soft pastures into to a pretty little valley hemmed in by dark forest out of which splashed a clear river

the house we were staying at nestled at the base of a velvety green hill facing the west slope of the valley

its windows were glazed gold by the sun now slipping below the clouds

it was so bloody romantic i could spit

it was a comfortable house after the rain, with a big, iron wood stove, a broken-in sofa and soft beds

best of all, there was hot running water, enough for showers all around

it wasn't long before we were stripping off sodden gear and each taking quick turns at luxury

it was marvelous to be all over warm again and something like clean besides

i was comfy, i was much less cranky, my brain was relaxing, and my heart was looking for a way out

those who were not in the shower helped with dinner

we opened the wine without delay and began setting the table

since the wine was open, well hey, i thought, what harm was there in having a little wine before dinner

the heart kept a close watch on the brain

i went out to bring more wood in for the stove

he was splitting logs into kindling, but stopped when i came out

we both remarked on the fabulous smell after the rain: a combination of roses, cedar and fresh-tilled earth

he piled a bundle onto my arms and laughed as i insisted in a strained voice that i could probably take one more piece

the air smelled so lovely

he looked so good

dammit

back inside, i dropped the bundle next to the stove and then lifted the iron lid and slipped two more logs onto the white hot coals

i checked that dinner was coming along and, we each had a bit more wine, you know, because it was there

after the first glass the second is easier, and so on

since the rain had stopped, we went outside and kicked an old soccer ball around

the rays of the lowering sun glittered on the river where it churned over the ford, and lit up the grass so that it glowed a fresh, vivid green

we slid across the wet lawn in bare feet, skidding after the wobbling, underinflated ball

the wine on my empty stomach meant that i was making some pretty wild passes and tending to swipe uselessly at the ball as it shot by me and then watch stupidly as it rolled into the pasture

i'd have to climb the fence, retrieve the ball and then make a trip down to the river to wash a cow pat off of both the ball and my foot

so it was as we were running around on the lovely soft lawn that my wine-addled, brain slid down onto the floor of my skull in a stupor, leaving the gate wide open for my love-struck heart to make a break for it

there weren't any brain cells sober enough to muster up so much as raised metaphorical finger of warning

he was so dangerously good looking, so kind, patient and funny

you know, slurred my brain, there are all kinds of circumstances that weigh heavily against him

but my heart trampled all over my brain in its rush for the exit, somersaulted through the door and flipped head over heels, giddy and moronic with joy

we went inside for dinner

we had more wine

silly things became exceedingly hilarious

we went for a stumbling walk down by the river and laughed hysterically at nothing in particular, leaning on each other as we walked

we slipped and fell into the shallows and that was funny too

he tried to point out a particularly notable tree leaning out over the water and that was positively sidesplitting

it was getting dark

we tripped across the lawn in the twilight, dazzled by fireflies which seemed to have been ordered in by some company that specialised creating atmosphere

all that was needed to top it off was a meteor shower, or a full moon rising, or maybe a flock of doves flying in a heart-shaped formation, but instead the rain clouds had hung around and it was actually beginning to drizzle again

we stumbled through the door as the rain returned

at first it was a barely audible hiss on the galvanized steel roof, but it quickly became a roar that drowned out conversation

we nestled into the couch and watched the water run off of the roof in sheets and geyser out of the downspout

the rain barrel overflowed

we sipped more wine and didn't try to speak

the volume began to ease until it was a light but steady patter on the steel

the last trace of twilight was smothered by the thick cloud and soon we were sitting in darkness

candles were lit and more wood added to the fire

steam rose off of the socks, t-shirts, long underwear, gloves and hats that hung all around the stove

the air smelled of fragrant cedar and wet wool

we got cookies and heated water for hot chocolate

conversation ebbed away from frivolous small talk into deeper personal tales, drawn out by the comfort of the room

we shared stories of personal tragedy, of happiness, of fear, and of revelation

my brain had managed to raise itself up on one elbow by now and was beginning to get a hazy idea of what was going on, in spite of its firm warnings against just this sort of thing, but it was too late

the heart had escaped

so the brain just slumped back down on the floor, sighed a deep sigh and curled up in that spot between warm memory and and unknown future

  situ | contact | bio  

map making : person unknown : dead   i had been uncertain about where i wanted to go next

i was getting a bit tired of seeing ruins

he said that he would take me to a temple not far from town— not a ruin, an active wat

it wasn't a suggestion

he turned the bike around in the middle of the road, cutting off a truck and nearly putting a fellow on a bicycle into the ditch

i clung onto the seat as we bumped over the ruts and potholes

we headed west, away from the tourists

it wasn't long before we turned off of the road and rolled across a teak plank serving as a temporary bridge over a lake of mud left by the rainy season

both sides of the path were hemmed in by bushes and a low concrete wall

these soon gave way to the dusty yard of a plain looking wat

there wasn't anything very remarkable about the place

it was a complex of a few whitewashed buildings surrounding a central temple with gold painted eaves, not unlike all the other wats i'd seen thus far

the poverty of the region was reflected in the simple decoration of the buildings, but bright new banners of fuschia, yellow, and blue flew from poles at the corners of the yard

he stopped the bike not far from a small stupa— a square, tower-like shrine topped by a bell-shaped roof

he told me that this is what i had come to see

i approached the stupa

it wasn't anything like the dozens of other stupas i had seen

like everything else about the wat, it was quite humble

it wasn't stone and it wasn't solid

the middle section was a plexiglass box about a metre in height set upon a painted wooden ziggurat-shaped staircase and surmounted by a wooden roof— a pyramidal version of the usual stone bell

lengths of saffron cloth in various stages of fading were wound around the base

all stupas contain, or once contained, a relic, usually hidden deep inside the stupa

the relics of this stupa were plainly displayed in the plexiglass case: a collection of human thighbones stacked like cordwood, surmounted by a neat pile of roughly 200 skulls— unidentified victims dug up from the surrounding fields

they were stained brown and slightly eroded

the jaws were gone

some were split or were missing teeth

they varied slightly in size, but for their subtle differences, they otherwise had a sameness about them that created an upsetting pattern of empty eyes and absent mouths

it is difficult to look at a skull with complete, clinical detachment, never mind 200 skulls

i closely examined one of them

unconsciously, my hand went to my face

i ran my finger around the ridge of my own eye socket, and then felt the shape of my own cheekbone under the skin

my skull was someone

that skull was someone, but robbed of identity, stripped down to no one

each skull was at once no single one, but representative of so many

i cried of course

i'd been seeing the traces of the recent conflict everywhere for days, and heard the stories, and knew about the dangers that still existed there, but i tried not to let it get to me, if only because it was too much to take in alone

even so, experiences aren't really "taken in"; they just enter, uninvited

the sights, sounds and stories might be ignored, even "spun" in order make them easier to handle ("that's just the way of the world", "there's nothing i can do about it anyway"





)

i had already tried to strike up a conversation with a fellow traveller about the local politics and history and he cut me off with: "oh man, i don't want to know about that depressing shit

i'm on a vacation

" i was drawn to the stories, hoping in some misguided way that just knowing the stories might make a difference

i can't say that i ended up going back to live there, working for some ngo, helping to right all of the wrongs and make the world a better place

instead, i'm writing this from the comfort of my own home and thinking that there isn't a lot of value in guilt

i was thinking similar things as i stood by that stupa

if there was a solution, it seemed insurmountably bigger than i am

i found that while i had silently derided the opinion of the traveller who didn't want to know about the depressing shit, i wondered if i am really any different

next to the stupa was a hand-painted sign, retelling the familiar story in english and several other tourist languages

below it was a box with a slot in it and the request for donations so that a better stupa might be built to house the remains

i put money in, of course, but it felt like an ineffectual gesture

i returned to where he waited with the bike

in spite of his broken english, he managed once more to come up with a difficult question: "how does it make you feel

"   situ | contact | bio  

map making : death   when i took driver training, i learned to drive defensively

one of the tricks of driving defensively is to "look for a way out"

this is supposed to be done constantly as part of maintaining an overall awareness of the traffic and road conditions

i can't say that i constantly look for a way out, especially on long prairie drives where i distract myself by writing entire novels (strictly pulp fiction) in my head

however, when i remember to do it, it becomes a morbid game

i think to myself: "okay, so if that semi hops the median and comes straight at me, i should go into the ditch

that pond there would be good





oh, now the ditch is a little steep; i'd probably roll





nuts, this overpass would not be good

there aren't lot of non-concrete-and-steel options under an overpass

what if i hit those pillars head on

" then my imagination projects my own personal driver education scare film, edited from images of hollywood car crashes and personal observation of roadside carnage

i contemplate the folding metal, the shattering glass, the things that could crush, stab and break

i wonder about the pain, and then, of course, about death and what that might be like

at first i'm rather clinical about it, but then i get a twist in my gut and so i redirect my attention to





those clouds building in the north

looks like rain

i think about death a lot, but not usually with any fear

i tend to think about it because of a general anal-retentiveness i have about scheduling and planning, not that i've actually made any arrangements in the event of my death

but it does have an influence on the amount of housecleaning i do before i go away on a trip

and i seem to only think of it when i'm going travelling

i'm not sure why, because i don't actually envision fatal situations before i leave (the "look for a way out" game only gets played once i'm on the road)

and filler "your health" items on the news are always noting that 70% (or something) of fatal accidents happen in the home, particularly homes with lots of throw rugs on slippery floors and electrical outlets immediately next to the bath tub

but i figure that unless tunnel carpal syndrome is found to be fatal, i'm pretty safe in here

but back to the morbid housekeeping ritual: as long as i'm home, the collection of dirty dishes on the kitchen counter remains pretty constant and the carpet of loose papers in my office drifts back and forth, untended

however, if i'm going away, even for a weekend, i have to clean up, because it would be a pain in the ass for my loved ones to have to do my dishes for me after i'm dead

when my grandmother died, it came quite suddenly

it wasn't totally unexpected because, as a smoker since wartime, she suffered from emphysema and bronchitis for years

nonetheless, she kept busy with various women's groups and social functions

she showed no signs of decline in health until one day she suddenly had severe difficulty breathing

as she was being rolled out of her apartment on a gurney, no doubt doing her best to talk through an oxygen mask, she gave the home care worker specific housekeeping instructions

she died several hours later

perhaps she was certain she would be coming back

i'm never certain that i'm coming back

    situ | contact | bio  

map making : person met : dead   the bus led the mass of vehicles entering the cavernous hold of the ferry

it came to a halt towards the bow and passengers began to stand up and grab baggage from the overhead rack

gradually, we shuffled down the aisle and off of the bus

i waited to leave last so that i could ask the driver to open the baggage compartment

i had left my lunch in my backpack

he said it was no problem and lifted the door for me, then reboarded the bus

my backpack was on the top, luckily

i retrieved my lunch, jammed the bag back into the compartment and pulled the door shut

for some reason i felt compelled to wait for the bus driver, to let him know that i had gotten what i needed

just as i decided that there was no point in doing this, he ran out of the bus towards me

"there's a dead guy on the bus

" my brain obviously had trouble processing this information because my immediate reply was: "literally

" as if "there's a dead guy on the bus" might be a metaphor for something else

the bus driver just nodded his head and looked flustered

he had evidently been in the process of running for help, but since he had found me still there, he must have thought i might count as "help"

he followed me back onto the bus

an elderly gentleman was seated in the third row from the front, next to the window

he was wearing a hat and sunglasses and his head was resting against the window

he just looked like he was having a nap

i scoured my brain for any recollection of emergency first aid and i regretted not having taken a refresher course any time recently

at least the first step was obvious: establish that the person is not, in fact, merely sleeping

"sir



sir



are you asleep



" i shook his shoulders

he looked a bit rumpled from my exertions, but otherwise still asleep





or rather





somehow not asleep, or more than asleep

in my hands, the weight of his body didn't feel like the weight of a sleeping person, nor did it have the warmth, except for a bit under the arms

i slid my hand to his wrist and felt for a pulse: nothing

the hand was waxy and blotched purple

i felt the carotid: absolutely nothing

the total stillness about him was the biggest clue

by this time the driver had gotten all of the confirmation of his observations that he needed so he sprinted off of the bus before i could tell him i needed his help

this was my first encounter with a dead person, close-up anyway, but i didn't feel that i was enough of an authority on the topic of deadness to be the clinical judge

i had to do something

i had to try cpr

maybe he hadn't been gone that long (in the back of my mind a voice pointed out that it had been about 10 or 15 minutes since i'd gotten off of the bus)

although we learned how to do mouth-to-mouth on a person in the water in swim class, i couldn't recollect learning to do cpr on a person sitting up in the window seat of a bus

i had to get him out where i'd have better access

i threaded my arms under his and heaved

suddenly "dead weight" had new meaning

maybe it would be easier if his feet were in a better position

i crawled under the seat and tried to push his feet out from under the chair but, well, his knees were a bit stiff

still i persevered

i went behind his chair for better leverage and tried to heave him up again, but he put up an amazing amount of resistance for a person who wasn't doing anything

i had a strange compulsion to apologise for the indignities i was subjecting him to

his glasses had slid down his nose a bit and his hat was at a more rakish angle, but otherwise he looked very, very peaceful

i giggled, for no other reason than hysteria

i cursed and giggled and wondered where the hell that bus driver had gone

i needed help

i stuck my head out of the door of the bus and yelled, but instantly recognised the futility of this as the sound was lost in the rumble of the ship's engines

just then a paramedic rounded the corner of the bus

relief

she was followed by another paramedic and the bus driver

i briefly told them what i knew: there wasn't much to tell beyond what was plainly evident anyway

"you can go," she said

"we'll take over here

" i nodded dumbly and left the bus rather quickly

i was at a loss for what to do next— going up on deck was the obvious next step, but it seemed an unsatisfying one

as i exited the elevator a voice boomed out of the public address system: "we apologise for the delay

there has been a medical emergency on board

" i wanted to scream: "there's a dead guy on deck two

" i wanted to tell someone

i looked around at the people seated in the soft chairs, reading books, working on laptops, talking to companions

"death is near

" i wanted to tell them, like some crazed street prophet

but being only mildly crazed and no prophet, i went out onto the deck in hopes that the sea air might clear my brain

as i leaned on the rail and watched the churning wash from idling screws, i began to wonder who the dead man was and realised that i didn't have a clue

i wondered where he was coming from and where he was going to

i wondered about who was waiting for his arrival at that very moment on the opposite shore

out of curiosity and restlessness, i decided to go back down to the bus

as the elevator doors opened, i saw a different pair of paramedics picking up medical supply wrappers from the floor

"er, so





how is he

" i asked

"do you know him

" asked one paramedic

"no, i don't

i was just here when the bus driver found him

i tried to give him cpr

" tried to get him out of his seat, at any rate

the other paramedic shook his head, his body language and noncommittal tone of voice revealing more than his words as he said: "well, they'll be working on him all the way to the hospital





" "thanks," i said

i left them to pack up their equipment and returned to the top deck

the timbre of the engines shifted as they fell into gear

the ship slowly began to slide away from the landing

the voice boomed out of the pa again: "we apologise again for the delay

as thanks for your patience, we would like to offer you complimentary nonalcoholic beverages in the cafeteria amidships for the next half hour

" i decided i needed a coffee

i really needed something a bit stronger, but i didn't have any cash on me

complimentary hot beverage in hand i returned to the rail and gazed out at the retreating shoreline and imagined the paramedics "working on him all the way to the hospital





" and dwelled on the sliver thin chance that statement held

i doubted it

i tried to comfort myself with the thought that if one must go, why not go at an old age, on a bus, travelling, and go so quietly that 30 people disembarking from that bus think you're just deeply asleep

i raised my cup to the shore, toasted him, thanked him for the free coffee, and wished him a pleasant rest

several hours later, we arrived at the terminal

on deck two i joined the queue of passengers waiting to reboard our bus

the bus driver stood by the door

he said an awkward "hi" as he saw me

"so





how are you," i asked, for he certainly must have been rattled

he got a bit of an excited look on his face, as if, like me, he was relieved to have someone who could relate to his situation

"well," and here he leaned towards me and his voice dropped to a discreet whisper: "i roped off the seat where he was sitting

" his distress and excitement were plain in his eyes

"because





you never know

" he nodded gravely

i boarded the bus and, sure enough, the third row from the front on the left had a dry-cleaning bag tied across the arms

i don't know if the driver thought that the poor fellow might have succumbed to some contagion or perhaps he just didn't like the idea of letting someone sit where a dead person had been

the seat might carry a curse

i took my place at the back

the bus rolled out of the belly of the ferry

the sun spilled into the windows

all around me the other passengers were chatting about this and that

the man would have reached the hospital hours ago

i wondered what his fate was

i wondered if any conversations around me might be about the dry cleaning bag

and then i just wondered, because





you never know

    situ | contact | bio  

map making function opennewwindow(urltoopen, windowname, windowfeatures) { newwindow=window

open(urltoopen, windowname, windowfeatures); } updated february 15, 2003 statement situ | contact | bio can't see anything

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click here to download it from macromedia

 

grandfather gets a house grandfather gets a house the children of the street   wanting to go july 29, 2000 - so then i gave a little (discreet) screamette, yowza, and rightaway took several friends out to dinner





and now i am thinking i might go to transylvania to do the thing i have been wanting to do for ages





and then going aug

25, 2000 - i found him searching through garbage

i followed him for a while, watching

what was he looking for

a mother with a kid, the kid pushing a bicycle, passed

he watched them pass





sept

5, 2000 - they took my bicycle, gyuszi says to me

i know, i say to him

we're walking down the street

he sighs and takes my hand





sept

6, 2000 - one day, when the children were at the playground, a hungarian man came out from one of the houses and beat them with a whip

stinking gyspies, he said, get away from here





and then going again sept

28, 2000 - hell on earth

the trainstation at nagyvarad at 1

30 am

sleepy infowitch through dirty infowindow mutters 7

30 am

train to vasarhely





at home nov

20, 2000 - eviction

cold and hunger aren't fictional

you don't get to play at all





  dec

12, 2000 - i need to go back, i do

i am arranging for a ticket today

  grandfather gets a house   back in budapest dec

14, 2000 - zoli didn't have the money to take the bus here from romania so now he is going to hitchhike





and then in romania dec

20, 2000 - 10am, am beyond physical sensation, lajos-th leans me against wall, then staggers to bathroom to distil in the pisswarmth, out, eh-lizabet, eh-lizabet (hungarian pronounciation) most beszeltem egy emberrel





a casket, christmas and zoli dec

26, 2000 -seeing as i prefer a bathroom i can actually enter without barfing

but then when we got on the train,it turned out that the 1st class only existed in the ticket sellers imagination, and now her pocket, i presume





i get sick and then better dec 30, 2000 - zsuzsa came running back too

she started to cry

then melinda started to cry

so then we were all having a good cry alltogether





now a decision jan

7, 2001 - grandfather and i talked it over

he says, not to worry

he says, the children will eventually be gravitating to his house, anyways

and that it is better this way





home again feb

5, 2001 - so now janoska has been locked up for two days, and mihaly doesn't have the money to pay the fine





april 5, 2001 - i am addicted

i miss romania

racist xenophobic sexist romania

so in your face

at least there, i know what i am looking at





may 8, 2001 - i never said you were a racist and nationalist idiot

please do not misunderstand me

what i said is that we all carry the seeds of such within





june 8, 2001 - he is a liar, she said

i could hear her think: all gypsies are liars





june 21, 2001 - fuck the rich





july 11, 2001 - so then katika comes to the phone

so what are you doing, katika

i'm reading a book

i have a book she says

what's in your book, i say

it's a book with stories





        home | children | families | emails | stories | contact      

grandfather gets a house navigation   date: sat, 29 jul 2000 20:54:25 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: hungary   i am thinking of going to hungary





i got this here grant to do a thing





just in time too, seeing as i was on the brink of serious starvation





except then i got to do a website for money





which i really really hate doing but what the fuck





dog's gotta eat, ya know, with money from the evil forestry guys





who are driving me crazy with their decision-by-committee undo undo crap





so anyways, then i got this here grant that i was not even expecting, i totally forgot i applied for it and then it an envelope arrived, fuck, more junkmail i thought but luckily i looked before pitching and so then i gave a little (discreet) screamette, yowza, and rightaway took several friends out to dinner





and now i am thinking i might go to transylvania to do the thing i have been wanting to do for ages

the thing i have been wanting to do is a thing my father wanted to do but then he really didn't have the money to do and then he croaked, oh you know

fathers do that, they die

the thing he wanted to do was to go up into the mountains of transylvania which is not really hungary but romania although it was the oldest part of hungary until it got snatched in some battle and all the hungarians are still real pissed about that and make lots irate parlamentarian speeches about it but the romanians just go, haha, fuck you

so there it sits, the oldest part of hungary, in the middle of romania, and the romanians really hate all the people who live there, and the people who live there really hate the romanians

the usual shit

the thing my father wanted to do was to go up into the mountains and find a little village where a man lives, well, he too might have croaked by now, cause now he'd be very old

this man saved his life during ww2

as he told it, the family legend, there he was at the front, having been taken there by the hungarian army which was allied to germany, to essentially make croak digging ditches as they would do to young men of his racial/religious/whatever persuasion

and as he was vigourously being encouraged into the afforementioned state of non-being by an enthusiastic application of beating, a giant in the uniform of the hungarian transylvanian regiment appeared

after a minute or so of watching the festivities, he turned to the other army guys and said, well, why don't you just give me that there jew and i'll take care of it

the other army guys laughed, said sure

so the giant grabbed my father and slung him over his shoulder and walked off with him towards the woods

and kept walking

and then he nursed my father back to health and hid him in a village until the end of the war

this is how my father survived the war

his wife and kid and parents and brothers got croaked, though

anyways, as i said, he always wanted to go find the giant transylvanian, the family legend

i have his name and the name of his village in the mountains

konya antal from zagony

i might have even mentioned this story before, i have been thinking about it for a while

to go there and make a little miracle or something

the guys might be dead now but his family will still be in the village, people there stick around

as i said, i might have mentioned all this before, seeing as it has been on my mind a while

but now it looks like i almost have the money to go

almost enough, just a bit more, maybe the forest evilguys will pay up in time

cause if i go this year, i have to go in the next few weeks, can't travel in the mountains after mid september, things get snowed in

and i would still have to arrange for i dunno, a guide or something

i will know in a few days

isn't that exciting

i sure sure could use an adventure and a miracle-ing

miracle-ing is, you know, the best

fluxus

art

and free

-e     home | children | families | emails | stories | archive | contact  

grandfather gets a house navigation   date: fri, 25 aug 2000 23:54:48 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: transylvania x-originating-ip: 193

231

81

1   okay, so the last thing i sent was supposed to have the subject line "transylvania", erdely in hungarian

hope it got to all of you

i cc'd it to several places at once and the net here is screwy

we really really have to figure out some way to help people here

their situation is very bad

they joke that before communism fell, they had work, money but there was nothing to buy

now they have no work





and the ones that still do have work get paid a pittance

oh yes, now there are things to buy indeed





only





no one can afford to buy anything, including for many, food

that kid i mentioned





i found him searching through garbage

i followed him for a while, watching

what was he looking for

a mother with a kid, the kid pushing a bicycle, passed

he watched them pass, roundeyed, staring

so i went up to him and asked him, what

what, i said, why are you looking through the garbage

a toy, he said

i'd like to find a toy

he was looking to see if he could find something

he had found two plastic boxes so he had them in his arms

he was such a little kid, someone had done a real bad job of shaving his head

it was full of nicks

he was wearing nothing but a grownoutof pair of pants

barefoot

how old are you, i said

he said, five years

so i said, well, why don't we go buy you a toy then

what would you like

a bicycle, he said

don't think i can afford that, i said, so lets try for something else

i had seen a toystore on my walkabout, so we went off to find it

down a steep street

here

he said, is this the toystore

he peeked in a door

grocery store, i said, the toystore is further on

so he took my hand and we kept walking

he kept looking in store doors

three blocks later we found the toystore

he turned round and around in the middle

oh, he said, oh

a kid's mother was buying a waterpistol

one of those, he said, can i have one of those

one of those, i said to the salesgirl, and could you please put some water in it

but you can have something else too, i said to the kid

can i have an airplane, he said

an airplane, i said to the sales girl

no airplanes, she said

okay then, i said to the kid, lets look around for something else

he said, can i have a kittycat, looking at some stuffed toys

sure, i said, but hey, i see some neat trucks over here

oh, he said, oh

the big red one, he said, the big red one

so we bought the big red truck and the water pistol

then we sat on a curb and we played a bit

he sprayed me with the pistol and then i sprayed him with the pistol

he giggled

you hungry

i said

thirsty

let's go buy a cocacola

so we went into a place, sat at a table with two cokes

a cake he said, can i have a cake

so we had the cake too, sitting at the table

he ate half the cake

we wrapped up the rest and put it in the truck

the truck now had the waterpistol and the halfcake

there was a fruitstand outside

he pointed to something, he said i need one of those

what, i said

i didn't understand what he said

a banana

i said, lets have the banana too, and those cookies

he took them and he put those in the redtruck too

then he pointed again, i need one of those

what

what

the fruitstand lady said, he wants a plastic bag, that will be 2000 lei for one of those

about a dime

he took the bag and then carefully stuffed the red truck with the pistol, the halfcake, the banana and the cookies in it

i'm kinda lost around here, he said, how do i get back

so then we walked back the same way we came

walked up the steep street

he said, brother, brother, little sister, mommy

he said their names but that doesn't matter here

brother, brother, sister mommy, hugging the stuffedfull plastic bag

this way, he said, this way, hurrying now

we got to the top of the street

we have to say goodbye now, i said

my train is leaving in a halfhour

okay he said, we will say goodbye now

goodbye goodbye, waving

then running off, hugging the bag to his chest, goodbye goodbye

this is the way it really happened in marosvasarhely

you guys have no idea what it's like here

oldladies begging in the street for food money cause pensions are about 200,000 lei a month

that's about 10 bucks

that's one of the reasons i have to go back, after i finish here

i gotta try to find that kid again, the kid with the toys for his family

maybe i'll find him and maybe i'll have enough money left for that bicycle

if not, then maybe we can find an airplane

-e     home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: tue, 05 sep 2000 01:41:27 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: vasarhely x-originating-ip: 194

195

227

36   have been in vasarhely for almost a week





leaving for budapest tomorrow morning





am staying with a very nice family





the parents of attila puskas





he lives there too





these people won't let me pay for anything





his mother was vastly insulted cause i bought some grapes





a guest must not buy anything





and she is always trying to feed me





three meals a day and i am not allowed to contribute anything i sure do love the people here





not so much the romanians of whom i know none





tho the city is now fully half romanian





a mere 20 yrs ago it was 95% hungarian





but the romanian gov't is moving romanians in like crazy





and changing street names, names of famous transylvanian writers and teachers





to romanian revolution dates, crap like that





the hungarians are very bitter





this year, for the first time, a romanian mayor





yesterday he was quoted in the paper as having announced "i can do anything i want"

so that's the political situation





as a result, the hungarians, who were the most developed culturally and socially, are getting poorer and poorer





and the young are more and more trying to get out, to hungary mainly

the romanians hate the hungarians







the hungarians hate the romanians







and everyone hates the gypsies





cause the poorest of the poor are the gypsies

this is what breaks my heart

x, your stories are nothing compared to what goes on here, the gypsies especially, the poor ones

there are a few rich gypsies as well, they are good traders and some are craftsmen





and given the cast system existant even among gypsies, they too seem to ignore the poor

the majority

the desperate

the streetchildren

the children not yet street who are sent out by their parents to beg in order to be able to buy food for the family

i have gotten involved with such a family

nine children, the last 4 months old, still in the hospital cause they have no milk to feed her, the oldest 14 yrs, a bright boy, misi

but he, like the others (except for a little girl of 10, whom i will explain later) are all thrown into, or warehoused, okay, a so called school where they teach them nothing

just many children in dirty rags running around learning nothing

a gypsy school, a so called "helping-school" for those deemed unteachable

which is a total lie

so this is the family of the boy i might have mentioned, the boy who wanted a bicycle

did i mention him to you

i forget





i have been writing disorganizedly





i wish i were, you know, more able

well, when i came back here, i went to find him again, on the street

some kind people helped, steered me to a little church, streetcorner building

i made friends with the reverend, the woman one

both her and her husband are, you know, reverends

hell, i don't understand all the christian denominations etc





so i don't even try

these people were kind, so i accept them as such

they are trying to build a childrens home but the lot theychose got sold out from under them for more money

the usual crap

capitalism rears its greedy





dick

so anyways, with help and directions





i walk to a dusty playground





a swing with sorta boats on it





two boats





and a bald little head looks out





and he hollers and jumps out





runs to hug me





as he runs more and more little bald heads peek out from the swinging boats





brothers and sisters gallore

all barefoot in filthy rags

skinny little bodies, malnourished

i am surrounded by children

bicycle, i say

okay, now i can't continue

i need to go outside and smoke a cigarette





can't smoke at this fucking net-cafe

day before yesterday, while tooling around in attila's car





he tries to show me all the nice buildings and stuff





he jokingly made like he was gonna hit a dog on the road

so i broke down crying

poor attila





he had no idea, he thought he had insulted me or something

but it was just





those children

those children are on my mind an awful lot

they live in one room with their parents





nice people, man no work, wife cannot read or write

the wife's father, gyula bacsi also lives there, in the little attached kitchen

this is what i was gonna explain before, back there, where i said about the little girl of then: gyula bacsi is raising this particular little girl himself





he and his wife took her away from mihaly and meli (the children's parents) and raised her as their own

but then his wife died





and things happened





and now he too lives with the family

the day before yesterday he said, listen can i talk to you honestly

he said, you know, i am a gentleman





uriember

this is not how i lived

but my wife died and i am old

this little girl, he said

she is a good little girl, and smart little girl

i raised her myself, you know, she lives here but she is mine

she goes to school, you know, a real school

listen he said

and then he broke down in tears

listen,he sobbed

take her

please take her with you

i give her to you, take her, take her

take her to canada, get her out of here, this is all shit here, she will drown like the others

please please please

i give her to you, take her away, make her a person, this little girl whom i love so much

goddam fuck i need that cigarette

so that's where i am you see, i don't know what to do

i would take the child





sure, impulsive





well, it's yet another artwork, no







a very longterm one, to make a person

but it costs $20000 to adopt a child here





oh yes, it is a business run by the asshole romanian government





even if the child will end up a whore on the street by the time she is 12

i am gonna try to see what i can do in hungary

i know a woman there who is a social worker

she is married to my other attila friend, the poet, who too is a gypsy

maybe they would foster the little girl, maybe we could get her to hungary somehow

i dunno

these are things i will explore there

but you see





there are nine children

misi, katika, gyuszi, janoska, marci, margitka, bob, sziliike and the baby

and they are all barefoot

yesterday, we bought shoes

at the market, where it's cheaper

5 pairs of shoes for those in school

one of the children, gyuszi, is deemed damaged, stupid

he was in an accident and then had a fever

he too goes to the horrible school and is proudly in fifth grade

but they haven't taught him anything at all, they just pass him through

and this child is not dumb at all

he is intelligent this child

i can tell

and the other thing about this child is that he is very sensitive, more sensitive than the others

and if this child, who is now 11 gets no help, this child will go crazy

he is in so much pain, this child

and as i said, he is not at all stupid as they think him

only





learning disabled

someone, who with just a bit of real help would





well, bloom

he would do that, this child,he would bloom, his big big heart would bloom and not break like it is doing now

oh yes, i love them all, but he is my favorite, this child

everytime i leave he gets tears in his eyes

tries to hide them but i see

and tomorrow i go back to budapest

tellme tellme tellme





what should i do about the bicycle

i ended up buying two, one for janoska, the little one i had met earlier, and one for gyuszi, he is bigger

the next day their father traded gyuszi's for an old colour tv

but at least they kept the small one, janoskas

don't judge this as badly as it sounds

the tv thing

yes, it's stupid

but the children get to see a world





and they get a bit of respect in the courtyard where the families live





they took my bicycle, gyuszi says to me

i know, i say to him

we're walking down the street

he sighs and takes my hand

-e     home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive

grandfather gets a house     date: wed, 06 sep 2000 17:27:22 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: re: vasarhely x-originating-ip: 212

108

194

234 one day, when the children were at the playground, a hungarian man came out from one of the houses and beat them with a whip

stinking gyspies, he said, get away from here

mihalyka asks if children are beaten in america

i say, no

but i also say, your mother is just tired

i didn't tell you that the mother beats them with a belt

she does not beat them hard





and she is very tired all the time

too young, and she neither reads or writes, much a child herself

she too is undernourished

  on the bus back to budapest, i sat with a young gypsy woman, of a caste higher than the gabor family

oh yes, there are castes among gypsies

she wore traditional clothing and had much gold jewellery

plump and very pretty

she had her two little daughters with her





they too were very pretty, and very cared for

their mother was always looking over to see if they needed anything





we talked for a while

the little girls were doing well in school

she was very proud of her children

the hungarian man across from us also talked to her, disrespectfully i thought

he even told a gypsy joke

doesnt that bother you, i asked

nah, she laughed

i know who i am

i am proud of my people

they talk like that only cause they are jealous

heh, i gotta remember that one, i said

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   navigation   date: thu, 28 sep 2000 12:28:15 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: back from vasarhely x-originating-ip: 212

108

194

234   well, i'm back in budapest, came back last night from vasarhely





was there for 2 days or so





had to go back to, you know, finish things, polish them up a bit





affect for effect





and now all i can do is hope for result

i travelled there with my friend petra





the woman whose appartment i am staying in in budapest





so the trip up there was a bit of an adventure





the bus had left





intentionally or otherwise, budapest businfo gave us the wrong info





so then there we were stuck at the bus-station at 7pm, the bus having departed for vasarhely at 8am or something





its a 12 hr plus trip up there and i really needed to go cause i didnt have much time before i had to leave for amsterdam and home





doing that on saturday, in fact

so then there we were stuck at the bus station





in the back, the only place where the non-hungarian buses are allowed to park





on second thought i am sure that the wronginfo was intentional





anyways, there were buses but all to the wrong transylvanian towns





did you know that transylvania is bigger than hungary itself and that without it romania would be just another pisspoor balkan country





okay where was i





yah, the buses





so all the wrong buses





also some vans that bus people eight at a time





they wait till they gather up eight going to the same place and then they're off





notice i have found the ' on the fucking hungarian keyboard haha





aaanyways







so the driver for one of these vans sees us lurking despondently says he is going to nagyvarad, looking for 2 more people and that he can drop us off at the trainstation there





1st class waiting room he says, couple hours waiting and then train he says





and that the train from there would be cheap cause it was already halfway, across the border and stuff





we thought for about a minute





why the fuck not, adventure etc





so we get in the van there were a buncha guys, romanians having come to work in hungary, mostly





i offer them grapes





one of them takes some





but then, when we stop for a rest, i notice that he had surreptitiously dumped the grapes on the ground





i notice cause i had stepped in them





i hate being sticky, yuck so then drive drive drive coffee piss drive drive drive piss drive try-to-sleep lurch drive





then border, pay nice dollars for visa othervisa having expired 2 days previous, fuck





then drive drive





then 1

30 am, nagyvarad, the driver drops us at the trainstation

hell on earth

the trainstation at nagyvarad at 1

30 am

sleepy infowitch through dirty infowindow mutters 7

30 am

train to vasarhely

transfer in kolozsvar

then transfer in some village in can't remember name

hell on earth, the trainstation at nagyvarad

firstclass waiting room is purgatory, homeless people sleeping on dirty plastic chairs vehicles to the inferno of the secondclass waitingroom occupied by those rejected ejected even from entire gypsy families with little children i am watching a youngmother nodding off babeinarms two others beside her curled up into dirtyrags father leaning against wall watching protecting as i watch he suddenly hurries over she has leaned too far in sleep baby in danger of slipping he wakes her a little and settles her back

there is nothing nothing i can do

shit





this was gonna be sorta a funny account of my travel adventures





lots of other things also happened

anyways, more later about vasarhely

that was great

seeing janoska and the others again

today, back in budapest, i bought a storybook to send back to the rev

noemi who will hopefully be teaching the kids to read

if all turns out as i have tried to plan it

more on that later too

anyways





you have no idea how difficult it is to buy a storybook for kids who have, for example, never been to a zoo

or seen animals other than mangy dogsandcats

that don't know what a princess is, for example

so i bought a book of stories about some magic dwarves and and the adventures they had for every month of the year

that's what i am going to send

i promised the children that i would be back in the spring

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house navigation   date: mon, 20 nov 2000 10:18:41 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef <ef@somewhere

net> subject: i need some help   the family in romania





you know, the one with the 9 kids that i help





is about the be evicted from their place

as crappy as it is, at least it is a place to live

they are not the only ones to be evicted, the other 4 families that live in the courtyard are also to be evicted

they all got cheated into signing a crooked lease, last summer

concocted by the landlord and a crooked lawyer in order to be able to evict them

cause, had they not signed anything, the landlord couldn't have evicted them for 3 years





they had been living there since communist times, the grandfather has lived there for 25 yrs

so when communist property reverted to private property, laws were put in place to prevent exactly what it happening to them





that is, the laws are there but can be circumvented with a crooked lawyer who knows how to take advantage of people who may not even know about the laws in place

as i said, they were fine, had they not been scared into signing the crooked lease

i know all this cause my friend zoli from kolozsvar is trying to help





so i now know exactly what is going on

zoli from kolozsvar became my friend a few weeks ago

he was someone i talked to on irc, a hungarian in romania

i had been looking for someone like that to talk to

cause i am so far away, you know

so i found him, he is the sys-admin at a local netcafe

people not being able to afford computers or netconnects makes these cafes very important

the one he works at is open 24 hrs a day

when i told zoli my involvement with the family his reaction was not the usual hungarian reaction

which is in essence, gypsies

it is useless to help gypsies, they are not worth helping

the usual racist shit

he wanted to know the details

and so when he noticed that i was really upset





i had just found out about the eviction, he said oke, things need to be done and i will do it

he did exactly what i would have done

he said, i am on my way

and he hitchiked 200 km to vasarhely and went to see them, to see all the papers, and talked to a lawstudent friend of his

and this is what's happening

the stuff i said in the beginning

these people have been royally screwed

and there is no time to get a lawyer, as the hearing is on wednesday

the lawstudent says this is not unusual, the lawyer who drew up the lease is well known for this

gets paid well for this, for putting people on the street

especially gypsy families

the lawstudent suggests trying to get an extension, to ask the judge for 2 weeks grace, to find a lawyer to help them

but he says even then they might now have a chance

but at least a lawyer can pore over the lease to try to find anything, anything at all

so that's what we are trying now, zoli is gonna take time off work and go with them to court

he is not sure they will allow him to speak for them, but at least he can explain what is happening

the family, and the other families in the courtyard too, of course, are panicking

so now we are thinking, well, what can we do, besides this

to foresee what might happen

if they get thrown out, what will happen

probably, they will try to force them into some kind of shelter

which, there, is horror

in shelters there, you are allowed to sleep, then you are put out on the street early in the morning, then you can come have soup at noon, then you are put out on the street until nightfall

and of course, anything you own would be stolen by then

this is what it would be like in the shelter

and winter is coming, winters are harsh there

this family with 9 children, essentially would be living on the street, in the middle of the winter

and the other thing, of course, is that the shelter is located out of town, probably in some gypsy ghetto

if this is what happens to them, they are lost

the children will no longer be able to go to the teacher i had arranged for them every saturday





they would no longer be able to get the food i had arranged for them

they would be lost

homeless

what should we do, what should we do

if the judge gives the 2 week extension to find a lawyer, they have about a 10% chance

not much

but it's something

a bit of time, maybe

and if the worst happens





which is very possible





the judge won't even give the 2 week extension

all we can think of doing is to try to help them find another place to live

there is a bit of money left in the account i started for them, the one from which the reverend noemi gets the money to buy the food

that is, i am hoping there is something left there





but is it enough to rent them a place, to pay it for a couple of months, until the father can find some work

zoli says he will try to help with that too

to give them every chance to help themselves

i am very aware of the fact that we cannot be supporting them, that that will not help in the longrun

i mean, that was my idea with the teaching/food thing





that the children were in a way, helping themselves, by learning to read and write

and my friends here are contributing to that

and it was working, goddam it, until this happened

but now this is different, ain't it

i don't know what to do

you see, here, even if you are poor, there are resources

well, in canada, anyways

but there, there is nothing

i am the only resource they have

well, and now zoli too

so, you guys, listen

if the worst happens, and they are on the street

if i have to somehow come up with enough to find them a place





zoli will do that, try to find them a place





can any of you help

can you afford something, to chip in

i guess this qualifies as an emergency

anything

20 bucks

5 bucks

anything

me and my friends here have been doing the teaching/food thing by chipping in whatever we could

only





now it's an emergency

it's more than we can do, now i need to involve more people

gawd







i'm kinda embarrassed to ask

but i need help

and listen





it's okay if you don't wanna, or can't or whatever

it's okay, i won't mind or anything

i just need to ask

i will be asking around here too

okay, so some of my friends probably think i am a bit nuts to get so involved





but ya know, it's like this

i am like this: things need to be done and i will do them

or at least try

cause like my father used to say, well, the very worst that can happen is that someone says no

and no one's ever died from that

i took some pictures of the family when i was there

and i sent the pictures to them

these are the kind of pictures any family likes to have of their children, smiling and happy, dressed nicely, to keep and to show to relatives

only five of the kids are in the pictures cause the 4 little ones stayed at home

you wanna see them

i can put them on a website if you like

(





oke so this whole thing has nothing to do with art, or





john take note, fiction, even

art and fiction are a lot more fun than this, suffer we might yes, but we are playing with our brains, only

cold and hunger don't seem fictional cause you don't get to play at all

) -e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: mon, 4 dec 2000 09:19:09 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: nogood news from romania reply-to: fishbreath@somewhere

net   well, the latest is that the free lawyer we were hoping for fucked off somewhere so that is no longer possible

i phoned another hungarian i know there - he doesn't hate gypsies quite as much as most, just a teeny tiny bit, but hell, wants to impress canadians so he is helping - and he knows a good lawyer that he is talking to tonight

i will call him tomorrow to get the news

he too says that this eviction crap is happening all over vasarhely i am to call him tomorrow

i hope the lawyer takes it on

in either case, it is now unavoidable, i must go there

so i am arranging for a ticket today

which probably means i leave in about 2 weeks

won't make the hearing, but can deal with things after

i can't rely on zoli anymore, he has enough troubles of his own, it's not fair of me to dump all this on him too

i guess i will go buy some warm clothes to take along for the kids

there is a greatbig sallyann around the corner, i can load up there

and someone i know collected a bunch of babyclothes too

yaya, don't worry, i'll be careful

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive

grandfather gets a house navigation   date: thu, 14 dec 2000 16:06:55 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: here x-originating-ip: 212

40

100

217   i'm in budapest





this is a real crappy keyboard so i won't write much

waited in amsterdam for 6 hours so me and the hungarian i happened to know-and-meet on the plane





wheee, a person to talk to





went to a cafe and smoked a giant hash spliff

it was tres relaxing, they were playing excellent dub too

so now i am here, zoli didn't have the money to take the bus here from romania so now he is going to hitchhike

wherein lies the danger that they won't let him across the border at all with no cash to show

the eviction notice will be posted on monday





i somehow gotta get a lawyer to them tomorrow



fuck

how am i gonna do that



i gotta think





i gotta think oke, i gotta sleep too

and then start calling people tomorrow

-e     home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house date: wed, 20 dec 2000 12:02:53 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: dec 21 x-originating-ip: 194

195

227

36 reply-to: fishbreath@somewhere

net   i'm in a netcafe, it's late, i'm coughing like crazy and i have forgotten my fucking glasses so this might be a tad spellingly challenged if you know what i mean

i haven't had time to write, arrived here to vasarhely 3 days ago, arrived at 4 am after a harrowing busride, seeing as the bus seat in front of us was broken and kept sliding back as the guy in front - really a very niceish guy, but then asleep so he was neither niceish or unniceish - stretched out, right into our fucking knees so we spent 14 hrs with our knees around our necks, covered in crumbs, cause, like, what the fuck, if ya can't sleep ya might as well eat, whaddaya say, another sandwich, sandwiches bought it budapest, sorry no reservations on romanian buses and yes, no, they have to load in the parking lot - which we found out the hard way, me and lajos-the-hun

as we had to pick up zoli who was coming to b-pest in order to pick *me* up to backgo with + bigheavy packages + the computer i scored for him from spencer in return for having made spencer's ubergeek webpage (geek being a compliment where i come from or hey, were i'm going) so information booth at bus depot says stand 15 at 7

30, me and lajos-the-h

standing freezing, 7

30, 8, i go again, information guy (different): nono, 8

30, yes yes, stand 15, me and lajos-the-h frozen in the wind, 8

30, 9, 9

30, lajos-the unstiffs, information woman (different) looking at wall sheet, oh it's late but coming, where, stand 15, fucking hell, clutching lukewarm vinegar-passes-for hot wine, 10am, am beyond pysical sensation, lajos-th leans me against wall, then staggers to bathroom to distil in the pisswarmth, out, eh-lizabet, eh-lizabet (hungarian pronounciation) most beszeltem egy emberrel aki ezeket ismeri, azt mondja hogy az a nyavalyas busz nem ide erkezik mert csak hatra, a parkingba engedik be es hogy hazudtak, es hat az is van hogy hat a busz mar regen 7am-kor megerkezett csak hat persze nem mondtak eg nekunk, baszd meg

lora please translate

na ja





zoli wandering b-pest with nary a cent, since he owns none and came on borrowed 200,000 lei for busfare, about 5 3/4 cents, but hard come by in romania, lemme tell you

end of this story is that zol is debrouillard en hostie (genevieve please translate) and found lajos-and-eszter-the-hungarians-and-me's address, so then we are back at the beginning, ain't we, and off to romania, broken kneed

have been here for 3 3/4 days

many things are befalling me, but none are as hard as the families in the courtyard being evicted

i have made my peace with mihaly and melinda more or less

it is much heartbreakinger oh yes, to have become part family, kinda, onlyhope, verily

and now for others too

two other families in there, nowhere for them to go

one family of 9, one of 7, fathers working men all their lives, jobs now gone in happy capitalismland, you know this already, gypsies first to go

mihaly's family only ones we are able to care for right now, but at least we are, yes, if we can find little cheaphouse for grandfather (katika will inherit, he says, bigsmiled) who would keep daughter husband 8 kinds in room with him

little house with one room, and a kitchen, we hope

we have been running around to halfway scum unreal estateors to find

one we can afford

mihaly: if it had a bit of earth, you know, just a bit, around the building, i could plant a carrot or two, or potatoes

you don't starve if you can plant he says, but oh yes you can, tho perhaps prouderlier

anyways, me, i am hoping for a bathroom

i have been giving the kids baths in the hotel room i am staying in till tomorrow and then dressing them in their new finestuffs i lugged all the way from canada

they say

you should see them

how proud they are and how beautiful

also many other things, but netcafe shutting down, have to go, tomorrow i am going somewhere else, will continue, oke

tomorrow i am to check out the misery that is zoli and his

but as i say often enough, everything is relative

when we were talking with jeno downstairs, he with 6 children, oldest daughter pregnant + her husband makes 9, zoli almost broke down

misery is relative, you know, yes yes yes yes yes

we drank a glass of wine with mihaly, after

talked of the house

felt a little better

but still







so many more

gotta go

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: tue, 26 dec 2000 07:03:09 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: dec 26 x-originating-ip: 195

179

246

238   well, we are now the proud owners of a casket as yesterday i found grandfather in tears cause his one remaining brother (rudi, age 66) had died that morning and all the relatives together could not come up with enough for a casket

so today, we bought a casket, you and i

about $35 = one casket

the cheapest but kinda nice, carved

the casket was brought to the widow's and mihaly and the other men shaved and dressed the old man and laid him in the casket

i think i am invited to the wake tho i don't know if i can attend since i did promise janoska that he could stay with me overnight

janoska cannot be separated from his airplane with the flashing lights so i guess that too will spend the night

last night i had supper with the family

the hen had reached a ripe old age so it took about 4 hours to cook but cooked it did get and then we all ate it with lots of bread

then we drank some wine with grandfather and we sang songs at eachother

i think they now trust that i will not abandon them, huh

cause grandfather would say, oke, then there is this one, and then there would be another song

he sure does know lots

me, i only know about 5 in hungarian, tho they did meet with much appreciation

mihaly's younger brother also came by and played some guitar

he plays very well and whistles the melodies along

there was a bit of a knife fight late in the evening cause it being jeno's birthday at the same time as the x-mas thing, there had been a celebration that had lasted for two days solid

some of the people were very drunk and tempers flared

so then a fight, then a bigger fight, then finally some knives and someone got hit on the head with i think a broom or maybe a shovel

this all happened downstairs tho, we just watched from the window

the police came and took the worst drunks away

are you scared, don't be, nothing will happen to you, melinda said

not scared, said i, pissed off

you know, people can really be idiots

yep, she sighed

anyways, to be safe, mihaly walked me halfway home

i had two of the kids by the hand, they were coming to spend the night

everynight, one or two come to spend the night

can't leave without them

luckily, that does not seem a problem with the owner of the little hotel

so then they come, i bathe them, stick them into the clean clothes we brougth along, a bit of a snack and off to bed

breakfast in the morning

i have to stick them into clean clothes cause there are a lot of bugs where they live

cockroackes and especially fleas

i am bitten into a solid itch from sitting around in the family's room

can't sleep at night for scratching

oh yeah, and coughing

scratching and coughing

but them's some happy kids, lemme tell you

me and the oldest boy, mihaly junior, we went to see zoli in kolozsvar, cluj-napoca in romanian

we took the 7

30 am train, had to get up at 6

he slept over, of course

so we took the train, they sold us a 1st class coach ticket, seeing as i prefer a bathroom i can actually enter without barfing

but then when we got on the train,it turned out that the 1st class only existed in the ticket sellers imagination, and now her pocket, i presume

oh well, the train ride took 4 hrs with one change-of-train in a small village so pissing was out of the question until zoli's

being the, ahem, seasoned traveller that i am i draw the limit at certain filthinesses, dunno why, but they involve bathrooms

i am happy to say that now, however, i can enter the family's so called toilet and not faint

so that's really something

i feel i *should* use it, so i do

zoli had been waiting for us at the train for 2 hours, but the train was late for 3

so he went home, thinking we weren't coming at all

but then there we were, so we took the tram to his appartment

one room, zoli, his wife eva (who is probably one of the nicest people i have met in my life, wow) and their baby abel who is 1 1/2 yrs old and huge

he gets lots of loving attention and is very self-assured

we slept on the couch, me at the head, mihaly at the foot

in the morning, we came back to vasarhely

i am glad we went to zoli's

it was nice

but they don't always have money for food tho zoli works very hard

me bringing the computer from canada was a bit of a miracle

i am trying to bring mihaly (junior) with me to lots of places

like here, now, at the netcafe

an hour ago he was distraught that his cousin refused to share something with him

but now he has been checking out jackie chan pictures on the web

so he has something big to brag about

he even managed to type in google

com when we were searching

remember, this is a 14 yr old who knows neither to read or write

i am working on that

you have to want, i say

and the only thing no one can take away from you is what's in your head

one of those blabla things my father told me, hah

also there are developments on the house front, will know more in a day

when i can find a lawyer to look over some documents

i gotta stay very smart

let's hope this works out

gotta go

more later, happy holidays to all

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: sat, 30 dec 2000 01:42:46 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: sick x-originating-ip: 195

179

246

238   i am getting sick i think





have to force myself to eat





i dunno why

last night, i broke down crying

then i went back to my hotel room and slept

for 15 hours

now i can't eat again

this is what happened yesterday: i was sitting in their room

there was also zsuzsa the mother of the family downstairs and 3 of her children

we were all playing

it's a very odd thing that i, who has never had much to do with children, have become so adept at play-teaching

i had brought the storybook and we had read a few

there was one called, the flea ball

everyone thought that real funny

melinda and mihaly made dinner, stuffed green peppers and salt fish

they had just gotten their foodmoney from the reverend noemi

they had decided not on the usual potatoes and such but on stuffed peppers, as a celebration

it being a holiday

while it was cooking, a woman came to the door

she said she was going to lose her job if they did not pay what they owed at the store

not only melinda but zsuzsa and a few more

the woman had been goodhearted and had given people credit but there was no money to pay

i could tell melinda was ashamed

she tried to talk to the woman in whispers

but the woman was adamant

she was going to lose her job, she had to show accounts to the owner tomorrow

well, i could tell the woman was a good person and now desperate

it is hard to find jobs in romania

so i said, excuse me, took her by the arm and went outside, sat on the steps

right away, janoska appeared with a pillow

nono, i said laughing, i don't need that, go inside

so then me and the woman talked

she said she tries to help as much as possible but what can you do

there are so many people who need

i said, well, i am going to pay this debt for melinda's family so could you continue to give them credit if they really need it for food for the children

sure she said, but then they should not be buying coffee and cigarettes

yeah, i see your point, but you know, coffee is very important to these people, you have to be able to offer visitors some coffee at least

and as for cigarettes, well, they smoke romanian cigarettes which are very cheap

and when you are hungry, if you have no smokes you are that much hungrier

that's what i said to her

the stuff about gypsy culture and the importance of coffee i had read on the net some time ago





and had found it to be so in melinda's family as well

if there was no coffee to offer a guest, everyone ran around to all the neighbours until a teaspoon of instant could be found

so anyways, i made arrangements with the woman from the store, promised to visit her there too, when in the neighbourhood

then i went back inside

the dinner started arriving, and then i couldn't eat, i couldn't touch it

i dunno why

it is true that they cook with more grease than i am used to but then again i can eat anything anywhere, always could

except now i can't

i keep thinking that someone more hungry should eat this, not me

then zsuzsa said, do you think you could pay for a few loaves of bread for us, we have no food

i said, i can't

there isn't enough, i said, zsuzsa, i said, please understand, i don't have enough

she got embarrassed and ran downstairs

so then i burst out crying

everyone came running

she is crying, zsoka is crying, they said

grandfather came and stroked my head

i wanted to say, grandfather, my heart hurts, sing me a few songs

but i didnt

zsuzsa came running back too

she started to cry

then melinda started to cry

so then we were all having a good cry alltogether

oh no, someone said, now janoska is crying too

i said, come here, janoska

he climbed in my lap and sniffled in my ear, don't leave, please don't leave

it's okay, i said

i'm okay now, janoska

zsuzsa went home again

so then mihaly said, don't worry about zsuzsa, we'll share what we have

he then sent one of the kids downstairs with a big bowl of stuffed peppers

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: sun, 07 jan 2001 06:03:04 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: good advice and the decision x-originating-ip: 193

226

87

238   the first news is that it ain't fleas in my hair, i probably have headlice





wheeee caught off the kids





oh well, i shall deal with it as soon as i am done here





the advice you guys gave was good and though provoking





and i have made, what i think is the best decision under the circumstances

which is: we have bought the little house

but it's in my name, that way no-one can fuck with it, or re-sell it

oh yes, mihaly had already made plans to do so





but he didn't figure on someone telling me

so i have bought the house for grandfather, in my name

he will bring katika and janoska with him to the new house as soon as it is fixed up

there is hotwater to be brought in with the purchase of a hotwater heater, and all the pipes and faucets

just made the arrangement for all that

then, the electrical wiring needs to be fixed, then grandfather will whitewash what needs to be witewashed, and then he will build a bathtub from cement and whatever tiling we can scrounge

after which, a bit of furniture





2 beds, a wardrobe

there is already a nice wooden table and a couple of chairs





also, there is a little desk for katika and homework

she is very proud of this

then we need to get blankets etc





in fact, everything

cause grandfather will take nothing from the old place

for one, everything there is filthy and full of various vermin, for two, there is now tremendous ill-will towards him and well, myself as well

seeing as i became aware of mihaly already plotting to re-sell the house and i suppose i totally blew his plan

i did this by putting the house in my name, with a contract between grandfather and i, giving him perpetual residency

as soon as katika is 18 and can no longer be fucked over by a stupid and greedy parent, i will transfer ownership to her

this is grandfather's wish and i agree

he knows that if he gets sick and if he dies, unless she is protected they will take it from her

so that is what is to happen, the papers are to be signed tomorrow

of course, now terrible things are happening at mihaly and melindas

their revenge for me establishing a safety-zone for the children (which in fact this is to be, because grandfather is a good and responsible person and any and all of the children will always find shelter with him) is for melinda to forbid the children from speaking to me

very sad

i saw a couple of them a few hours ago

they are afraid to speak to me cause if they do their father will beat them

nice, huh

but hell, i have known for some time of their parents' ah, moral shortcomings

and have acted accordingly

and this is a good decision, positive

the children who will live with grandfather will have a safe home, and will be attending a *real* school





he is very aware of the utter importance of not growing up illiterate, of not perpetrating ignorance

the little money that i have been gathering every month since last summer, the $10/week that i have been sending to the rev noemi with which she had been buying them food every week, will now also change

grandfather is to get this instead, and as he is an honest man noemi no longer has to buy the food with the money





we can now just give it to him directly

we trust him to buy the neccessities

oh yes, they still will be very poor

only they will be a little bit safer

it is a small window, but is now open

makes me kinda happy, all this

well, the shit with the parents does not make me happy, of course

and that i can do nothing

and those poor hungry children

not allowed to speak to me, hah

i was the one good thing in their lives

grandfather and i talked it over

he says, not to worry

he says, the children will eventually be gravitating to his house, anyways

and that it is better this way

they will always have a place with him, clean

and food

that i was pouring it all into a leaky bucket

he is very pissed off at his daughter and her husband

he says, they are dishonest and that you reap what you sow

he is right

i like grandfather a lot

these days, he is smiling a lot more

it's good to see

if he were my father i would be happy for him, no hope, and now hope

it is difficult for me to understand melinda's reaction to all this, if he were *my* father, taking care of *my* children





yeah yeah





i cannot understand her, or at least, what i understand makes me very angry

so i stay away from there now

though there is still needs that i have been and will finish filling

such as getting healthcare paid for and established

both for them and for zsuzsa and her family, downstairs

seeing as her husband just lost his job

every time i did go over there i do always bring some bread, just some basics

but i cannot help anyone zsuzsa further than that





there simply is not enough and i have had to establish priorities

which now is grandfather, katika, janoska





and we are hoping for mihaly, the 14 yr old

i have a feeling he will be running away





and hope that that is where he runs

chances are good

i have hope for this kid

though he has a very difficult road ahead





his father is already putting him to work

at 14

work that his father should be doing

(siiiigh) i hope you guys understand what a fucking emotional roller-coaster all this is





i mean, i do love these kids, and no, i do not like their parents

took me a while of coming to that, i did make a lot of allowances for desperate poverty and all that that means





but there are ways, and then there are ways

i can deal with filth but i cannot deal with beatings

heh





i didn't tell you





once, when we were standing outside of the clinic waiting for something





mihaly and melinda said, pointing to the jewish synagogue down the street





that they had heard that jews steal babies and draw their blood and that the synagogue's pinkish paintjob is the result of these children's blood being mixed in it

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: mon, 5 feb 2001 10:54:49 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: news from romania   i just talked to iren





the latest news

janoska was at the playground with marci and saw a guy buying a bun at a stall and asked if he could get one too

i guess he was hungry

and for this, he was arrested by the militia - the police, over there - and locked up

see, there is a new law, a law directed at streetchildren





of which there are many





homeless children, starving and living under benches, in alleys

so now they gather them up and lock them up

then there is a fine to pay - and of course, no one can pay that, if they have parents, the parents are also starving - and then, since the fine was not paid, they get shipped off to the countryside, i suppose to some sort of "children's home", an orphanage

you know, to get them out of sight

so now janoska has been locked up for two days, and mihaly doesn't have the money to pay the fine

tomorrow, at my suggestion, he will go to the pro europa foundation, i kinda made friends with a director there, and i think he will be able to help

for one, janoska is not a streetchild, he has a home and parents, who whatever their faults, care about him

so it is a total scam to try to make them pay





for what

that he asked someone for a bun



i have the proeuropa guy's email address, he is a young lawyer, kinda intense and nice

i will write him too, right away, after this

oh, and you can see their website, they are a human rights organization based in vasarhely

though the best horrorstories are in hungarian





you know, about lynchings of gypsies in the villages

here: http://www

proeuropa

ro/ fuck

you know what i would do if i were there

i would organize a demonstration

right in front of city hall

i would organize a demonstration with all these families, all the mothers and fathers, and all the children

and all the fathers would be carrying signs that would say in nice big letters, give us work

our children are hungry

give us work

at which point i would be arrested and and deported

and maybe even beaten up

just think of all the neat stuff i could write then, har

when i was there, everyone said, don't think they are not watching you

they are watching you all the time, they said

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: thu, 5 apr 2001 00:17:24 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: dinner   one onion, chopped, 4 cloves of garlic, crushed, into oil on low heat, till onions glassy

then 2 tbs hungarian paprika (the real stuff, not the supermarket obscenity), stir it all until paprika melts

now add beef cubed, brown in the red goo

chop 4 tomatoes, one green pepper, add with 3/4 tsp salt and some pepper

when cooking, add 3 or 4 cups of water, stir

let it boilup then turn down heat to simmer

cover

simmer away for i dunno, 40 minutes

in the meanwhile peel and cube some potatoes and slice some carrots into chunks but don't add them yet

go back to email

















  soon the lovely and generous canada council will start whining as to handing in the cd-rom i am supposedly hard at work on so am wracking brainremnant in order to come up with nice artspeak of such artspeakish magnitude that they will be forced to accept my change of artistic discipline from multimedia to savior

as they won't understand a word of my incredibly obtuse yet strangely fascinating treatise but cannot be perceived to lose artface, they will have to nod knowingly and maybe give me a medal

something postmodern, perhaps

barbie surfs poverty

and thus i shall be validated as an important cultural artifuck, which validation i really need as it comes in handy when blackmailing my friends into chipping into my you know, real projects

my gypsies, the veritable leaky buckets of need

and now zoli too, who got thrown out of his place

so -see i really am a dedicatied artist- i swallow my pride and beg

haha, i am now a veritable begmachine

greg, help me out, i say

lora, shelley, what can you afford

and miraculously, i manage to gather $100, and we wire the miracle to zoli

the goulash is cooking, starting to smell goodgoodgood, hungarian good

















oops, time to add the potatoes and carrots

let simmer on low heat until vegies are done, i dunno, maybe 30 more minutes



add more salt to taste and voila

or perhaps, hungarianly, violin

















i am addicted

i miss romania

racist xenophobic sexist romania

so in your face

at least there, i know what i am looking at

not like here

here so nice

polite

fullofshit

the bestofallpossibleworlds, salut voltaire, see, markchello, i do remember

but dinnerguest just arrived, luckily knows me well, i say 8, come at 9

wise guest arrived an hour late and brought some fizzy sugardrinks and bread

then, being the very wisest of dinnerguests, left again to buy me some smokes

















gulyas (prn

gooyash) is ready, let's eat

-e     home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house   date: tue, 8 may 2001 11:25:05 -0800 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: letter to zoli hat tenyleg nem gondoltam volna hogy te odaig messz hogy meg a baratsagunkat is kepes vagy felredobni egy incidensert

mert igaz, en annak tartom

nem hioszem, hogy miutan annyit beszelunk egymassal te meg mindig nem az oszkepet nezed hanem egy incidenst

ha pedig neked az osskep azt mutatja hogy en egy rasszista es nacionalista hulye gyerek vagyok, yenyleg nem tudom mivel szolgaltam re erre a velemenyre :(   i never said you were a racist and nationalist idiot

please do not misunderstand me

what i said is that we all carry the seeds of such within





and such seeds are what gives rise to the more odious elements of humanity, which your culture exhibits so very instructively

here

it is somewhat easier to fight such behaviour, be that without or within oneself

where you live, it is far harder, for many reasons

economic, cultural, psychological

contrary to various religious idealizings, no one is a perfect human specimen, not i, certainly, nor you, definitely

we are human, and thus, fallible

in fact, our fallibility is our charm, life would be quite dull

there would be no creativity without it

the only difference between you and i, (well, at least as far as this particular issue is concerned, haha), is that i am quite honest with myself and you are not

therefore i have a bit of control *even when i am angry or frustrated*





and you do not

this is not to say that i do not get irrationally pissed off, nor that i never make a fool of myself

it only means that i am able to reconsider and perhaps affect the worst of what is inherent in my character

what it means, zoli, is that i am, above all, honest

no matter how painful such introspection may be at times

not to mention, humiliating

i am sorry, but if you keep denying what you feel - and indeed what may be a natural impulse given your environment - you are merely lying to yourself





and nothing will change

that is, you will not change; and if you do not, neither will your environment

therefore, it is indeed imperative, for your sake as well as mine, that you learn to understand yourself

you purport yourself to be intelligent; so think

consider first the motivating factors and then the implications of the scummiest of human impulses

which all humans share, zoli, no exceptions

and then write me an essay of a 1000 words

i am both older and smarter than you

all too often, you are impulsive and unwise

this is serious; and this is something you need to do, and learn

and learning is something one should do throughout ones lifetime, otherwise one merely repeats already entrenched, destructive patterns

there are no miracles, no matter how attractive the fantasy of such appear

there is, however, free will, and rational consideration

the best of the human condition mitigates the worst

-e   home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house       date: wed, 20 jun 2001 5:10:17 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: the rich fuck the rich i hate them all           home | children | families | | contact emails | stories | archive  

grandfather gets a house     date: wed, 11 jul 2001 10:41:04 -0700 to: fishbreath@somewhere

net from: ef subject: no bad news   wow





i can't believe i am saying this but there is (incredible) no bad news from romania





just talked to the grandfather on the phone





some news but no real bad ones

wheeeeeee







hahahaha





i'm happy

so is the grandfather

he says: you know, zsoka, i was so worried cause you didn't call

(but grandfather, i can't always call, it costs a lot and sometimes i don't have the money for a phonecard) oh okay

but i was still worried

the mrs

reverend gave me the money for fixing the water but you still hadn't called, so i was worried

(but i am calling right now, see

) good, good

the water will be fixed in a week and a half, the plumber is doing a job in szentgyorgy and he will be available after

you'll see when you come, i'll have the bath working and everything

when are you coming

(i can't right now, grandfather

maybe i'll try in the fall, okay) oh and i have really good news, he says

okay, i say, i can use some good news, so what is it

guess what, he says

mihaly left to work in hungary, he left last night

wow, i say, that is incredibly good news, you mean he finally got off his ass

he finally did, he says, and now it will be easier for melinda and the kids

there is some new law in hungary, he says, so they don't harrass people from romania at the border, they actually want them to come and work

and jozsi has good contacts there so mihaly can use those

now we will see how he does

i'm really happy to hear this, i say

cause it was really hard on me, not helping them

he says, but probably the best thing, this way mihaly was finally forced off his, forgive my expression, behind

heh





grandfather, as he puts it, is a gentleman, so he does not like to swear in front of a woman

and jozsi, i ask, how are they doing

well, he sighs, iren is once again in the hospital

but at least now jozsi can pay the nurse, and so he is not in the hospital all day

he takes care of his kids, grandfather says

back to grandfather: yes, i bought katika the graduation present, thank you zsoka

i bought her a little piano, not a real piano but a little thing with batteries

she loves it

yesterday, we brought it over to melinda's so that janoska and marci can play with it too

(oh that's nice)

the kids are all okay, they are all healthy

(oh that's really good to hear)

melinda is a bit sick, with the same thing she has had for a long time, you know, when she loses her voice

the doctor said she needs to go to the hospital for a treatment cause she may lose her voice forever if she doesn't

and then she would be mute, zsoka

(but that is impossible, with mihaly gone to work, there is no one else to take care ofthe children) yes

there is no one else to take care of the children

there is nothing to be done, he says

so lets just hope for the best

true, i say

at least now, with mihaly working, they will have enough to eat and all that

prices have gone insane, he says

yes, i know, i say

do you know that the price for a chicken, that used to be 10,000 lei per pound is now six times as much

i figured, i say

he sighs

but we are okay, we're eating

it's lucky that i send your food money in dollars, i say

and the reverend keeps it in the bank in dollars so that when it goes up you get more lei

lucky, he says

i have a request, please forgive me for it, he says

okay, what is it, i say

well, he says, you know, in september, when school starts

when the school starts and katika is in second grade

would it be possible then for me to buy her, you know, a little dress

and a school bag

so she could be more like the other little girls, he says

would that be possible

we'll see, grandfather, we can figure something out i am sure

the next time you come, he says, i would like to go to court and have melinda officially relinquish katika to me, you know, on paper, legally

i have been raising her since she was a baby, as you know

but i am an old man

i would like to make it legal, and then i would ask you to be entered as guardian for katika if anything happens to me

sure, i say, i would do that

if anything happens to you, that is

but you just stay healthy

oh i try to take good care of myself, he says

but katika is just a little girl and i would like to make sure that if anything happens there will be someone

and that she can continue to learn

i'll do it gradfather, don't you worry

legally, he says

legally, i say

hey grandfather, i say

what if katika was able to go to highschool too

oh, that's very expensive, i hear, he says

no, i don't mean university, i mean highschool, that's like elementary school, four more years after, i say

oh, he says, is there such a thing

let's dream a little, i say

you know, she is an industrious little girl

who knows, i say

we can try

we can dream

you can dream a little, i say

a real future for katika, wouldn't that be nice

and the next time you go to get the food money from the reverends

take katika along

the mrs

reverend said she hadn't seen her since you moved into the house

and she said she sure would like to see her again

so take her along, i said

it would be nice for everyone

show off your nice little girl, i say

so then katika comes to the phone

so what are you doing, katika

i'm reading a book

i have a book she says

what's in your book, i say

it's a book with stories about the sun, she says

so that was my phonecall to romania this morning

i'm kinda happy, right now

and maybe i'll ask the reverend noemi to give katika some more books

she likes to read

isn't that great

-e     home | children | families | emails | contact  

grandfather gets a house - stories grandfather gets a house     uncle antal lays down the law - 14 hr busride with the jobbagytelke folkdancing village (admirably led by uncle antal-the dancer





*not*, i must stress, uncle antal-the-singer





a bicycle - so i said, well, why don't we go buy you a toy then

what would you like

a bicycle, he said

don't think i can afford that, i said, so lets try for something else





train to hell - waiting room purgatory of homeless people-sleeping dirty plastic chair vehicles to the inferno of the secondclass

waitingroom





on the bus - bus seat in front of us is broken and keeps sliding back as the guy in front - probably niceish guy, but then asleep so he is neither niceish or unniceish - stretches out, right into our fucking knees





bread - so off we go to find a store that has lights

we want blinking lights, the real thing

with the hope, mine, secret, that the oldladyhen will be dead and acook by the time we get back





my father told me - i dreamt that i was in that room where all the little gypsy children had been told to go to sleep





the cows - rutted roads, horses and buggies

at sundown, in the purple light





      home | children | families | emails | contact          

uncle antal lays down the law uncle antal lays down the law 1

uncle antal the dancer 14 hr busride with the jobbagytelke folkdancing village (admirably led by uncle antal-the dancer





*not*, i must stress, uncle antal-the-singer





who it is well known is much less leaderishly endowed, being given to a bit of palinka





but i must also stress that u

a

-the-singer is, as a result, generally very relaxed and often, yes, singing a tune or ten





where was i, oh yah) on the bus

with the village of jobbagytelke

it was hot

very

sweaty hot

then, a terrible stinky stink began to prevade, just as we were passing through some swampy kinda terrain

phew, said i to the woman i was sitting next to on the bus, must be the swamp smell

i think i'm gonna faint for a while so wake me when its bearable, okay

i did say all this in hungarian cause no one from jobbagytelke speaks international, like

igen igen, she replied, would you like a spot of palinka to deaden your nervishness

the stink increasingly stunk

it was truly a gagworthy stink

people were fanning themselves with anything available, shirts, passports, candywrappers

then, all of a sudden, air

like magic, the air cleared

we, who were sitting in the back of the bus, were real surprised

the swamp was still going by the window but inside it was positively gardenish, i mean, compared to the breathofhell of few minutes ago

this is what i am told happened: -i was told this by one of the persons sitting up front, where all the important folks sat

uncle antal-the-dancer, age 76, occupying, of course, the seat-of-honour, behind the driver

first, faint cries were heard from the befogged backseats as the stink grew more and more ominous

and as the mist crawled its way towards the front, melting buttons and fusing extremities, the busdriver groaned and the bus swerved erratically

which finally woke ancle antal (dancer) from his well deserved, dignified reverie

his nose twitched

his head jerked up

then, rising majestically he turned to the back of the bus and gave one short, stentorial command

shoes back on he roared

cipoket fel

and thus the peaceable scents of a hot summer day returned to the bus of the dancers from the village of jobbagytelke, returning to romania from a much honoured performance at the millenium celebrations of the founding of hungary

  home | children | families | emails | contact  

a bicycle a bicycle 1

janoska i found him searching through garbage

i followed him for a while, watching

what was he looking for

a mother with a kid, the kid pushing a bicycle, passed

he watched them pass, staring roundeyed, all the way down the street



so i went up to him and asked him, what

what, i said, why are you looking through the garbage

a toy, he said

i'd like to find a toy

he was looking to see if he could find something

he had found two plastic boxes and he had them cradled in his arms

he was such a little kid, and someone had done a real bad job of shaving his head

it was full of nicks

he was wearing nothing but a grownoutof pair of pants

barefoot

how old are you, i said

he said, five years

so i said, well, i have a really good idea

why don't we go buy you a toy then, i said

what would you like

a bicycle, he said

i don't think i can afford that, i said, so lets try for something else

i had seen a toystore on my walkabout, so off we went to find it

down a steep street

here

he said, is this the toystore

he peeked in a door

grocery store, i said, the toystore is further on

so he took my hand and we kept walking

he kept looking in store doors

three blocks later we found the toystore

he turned round and around in the middle

oh, he said, oh

a kid's mother was buying a waterpistol

one of those, he said, can i have one of those

one of those, i said to the salesgirl, and could you please put some water in it

but you can have something else too, i said to the kid

can i have an airplane, he said

an airplane, i said to the sales girl

no airplanes, she said

okay then, i said to the kid, lets look around for something else

he said, can i have a kittycat, looking at some stuffed toys

sure, i said, but hey, i see some neat trucks over here

oh, he said, oh

the big red one, he said, the big red one

so we bought the big red truck and the water pistol

then we sat on a curb and we played a bit

he sprayed me with the pistol and then i sprayed him with the pistol

he giggled

you hungry

i said

thirsty

let's go buy a cocacola

so we went into a place, sat at a table with two cokes

a cake he said, can i have a cake

so we had the cake too, sitting at the table

he ate half the cake

we wrapped up the rest and put it in the truck

the truck now had the waterpistol and the halfcake

there was a fruitstand outside

he pointed to something, he said i need one of those

what, i said

i didn't understand what he said

a banana

i said, lets have the banana too, and those cookies

he took them and he put those in the redtruck too

then he pointed again, i need one of those

what

what

the fruitstand lady said, he wants a plastic bag, that will be 2000 lei for one of those

about a dime

he took the bag and then carefully stuffed the red truck with the pistol, the halfcake, the banana and the cookies in it

i'm kinda lost around here, he said, how do i get back

so then we walked back the same way we came

walked up the steep street

he said, brother, brother, little sister, mommy

he said their names but that doesn't matter here

brother, brother, sister mommy, hugging the stuffedfull plastic bag

this way, he said, this way, hurrying now

we got to the top of the street

we have to say goodbye now, i said

my train is leaving in a halfhour

okay he said, we will say goodbye now

goodbye goodbye, waving

then running off, hugging the bag to his chest, goodbye goodbye

  home | children | families | emails | contact  

train to hell train to hell hell on earth the trainstation at nagyvarad at 1

30 am hell on earth, the trainstation at nagyvarad 1

30 am firstclass waiting room purgatory of homeless people-sleeping dirty plastic chair vehicles to the inferno of the secondclass waitingroom, occupied by those rejected ejected even from

standing in door, entire gypsy families sleeping youngmother nods off babeinarms two others curled up dirtyrags beside her while father leans against wall watching watching

he suddenly starts, runs over, she has leaned too far in sleep baby slipping he wakes her a little and settles her back

infowitch through dirty infowindow mutters 7

30 am train to vasarhely transfer in kolozsvar transfer in some village with no name

    home | children | families | emails | contact  

on the bus on the bus bus seat in front of us is broken and keeps sliding back as the guy in front - probably niceish guy, but then asleep so he is neither niceish or unniceish - stretches out, right into our fucking knees so 14 hrs with our knees around our necks, covered in crumbs, cause, like, what the hell, if ya can't sleep ya might as well eat, whaddaya say zoli, another sandwich, sandwiches bought it budapest where sorry no reservations on romanian buses and yes, no, they have to load in the parking lot - which we find out the hard way, me and lajos-the-hun

as we have to pick up zoli who is coming to b-pest in order to pick *me* up to backgo me safely to romania, naive me + bigheavy packages + elderly computer i scored for him from ubergeek in return for having made ubergeek's webpage, so information booth at bus depot says stand 15 at 7

30, me and lajos-the-h

stand at stand freezing, 7

30, 8, i go again, information guy (different): nono, 8

30, yes yes, stand 15, me and lajos-the-h stand frozen in the wind, 8

30, 9, 9

30, lajos-the unstiffs, information woman (different) looking at wall sheet, oh it's late but coming, where, stand 15, fucking hell, clutching lukewarm vinegar-passes-for hot wine, 10am, am beyond pysical sensation, lajos-th leans me against wall, then staggers to bathroom to distil in the pisswarmth, out, eh-lizabet, eh-lizabet (hungarian pronounciation) most beszeltem egy emberrel aki ezeket ismeri, azt mondja hogy az a nyavalyas busz nem ide erkezik mert csak hatra, a parkingba engedik be es hogy hazudtak, es hat az is van hogy hat a busz mar regen 7am-kor megerkezett csak hat persze nem mondtak eg nekunk, baszd meg

meaning, hungarian=pronounced elizabeth, i just talked to some guy who knows these people, and he says those damned buses don't even park here but are made to come to the back of the parkinglot, and that these assholes are lying, and not only that but that the bus arrived a long time ago at 7am but, of course, the fuckers also neglected to mention that

so there was zoli wandering b-pest with nary a cent, seeing as he owns none and came on borrowed 200,000 lei for busfare, about 5 3/4 cents, but hard come by in romania, lemme tell you

end of this story is that zol was debrouillard en hostie and found lajos-and-eszter-the-hungarians-and-me's address and showed up at the door so then here we are back at the beginning, ain't we, off to romania, broken kneed

      home | children | families | emails | contact  

bread bread of course i am invited for christmas

there we are sitting around, drinking coffee when grandfather arrives with an elderly hen under his arm

it has rustyred feathers and a ragged leathery comb slung over one eye

it looks sad

and resigned, kinda like the oldlady i see on the street

she with the hat over one eye

well, the oldladyhen is about to meet its demise, so being the sensitive sort that i am, i gotta get out of here

i might want to save it or something and thus spoil the festivities

i gather up the junior mihaly, and off we go to get a surprise

junior-mihaly and i have become conspirators

our conspiracy consists of being able to tell eachother stuff and not having it go further

so what we are about to get is some christmas lights

cause mihaly-the-father has somehow acquired a sorta chrismas tree that now flaunts its sparse and hairy limbs in the corner

off we go, juniormihaly and i

he is clumping along in the boots i had brought him, real motorcycle boots, i say

the boots are a bit big so they make him walk funny, a kinda clump-and-swagger

a skinny little kid, swaggering along in big black boots

he loves the boots

he has now been wearing them for ten days solid

one night, when i had come late to visit, i saw him asleep on the couch

he had the boots on his feet

so off we go to find a store that has lights

we want blinking lights, the real thing

with the hope, mine, secret, that the oldladyhen will be dead and acook by the time we get back

hey, why don't we go check your email at the netcafe first, says juniormihaly

i am loath to tell him i'd already done so, before i came

cause i know how much he likes coming with me to do that

he gets to peck around on a keyboard and look up websites about kungfu moviestars

which gives him mucho bragging rights with his friends

and me, i get to bug him about learning to read-and-write

i say, find the g, and then i say find the o and another o

very good, i say, do you see what i mean

there is of course no email to check but netcafe only costs 50 cents an hour and j-mihaly has learned another letter

well worth it

blinking christmas lights

we see a store that sells blinking christmas lights

so we stand in line and buy some

50,000 lei, they cost

that's five loaves of bread, i am thinking

around here, i am always thinking in loaves of bread

jmihalys eyes are shining

combination of jeanclaude van damme pics and bringing home a surprise

talk about status

lately he had been falling behind cause a friend of his got a a keychain laser pointer

back home, we string up the lights on the tree

it now also has three chocolatebars hanging on it

the chocolatebars were brought by the halfblind old man who lives in a house up the street

he brought them as presents for the children because his own grandchild had died

so melinda strung up the chocolates with thread and hung them in the tree

we now have a veritable plethora of christmas decorations

in order to plug in the lights, we have to unplug the tv

there is only one plug

so we unplug the tv and turn on the lights

we all sit around waiting

but they are not blinking, katika wails, they are broken

shit, i say, we got ripped off

but no, all of a sudden a light blinks

then another

then they all blink like crazy

katika sighs

the smell of garlic and cooking chicken wafts in

grandfather has cooked the dinner and it is ready

all the children are chased into to kitchen to eat

then, ceremoniously, i am brought the guest plate

the best part of the chicken

which consists of all the innards, liver, gizzards, heart

and something else besides, that looks like a reddishbrown omelet

uh oh, i think, fried blood, that is

the whole thing swimming in oil

with a big slab of bread on the side

the red thing, i say

i don't think i can eat that

i feel bad when i say this cause i read somewhere that that is considered the biggest delicacy, reserved for honoured guests

i feel honoured but kinda nauseous

i don't think i can eat the redthing

i am okay with all the other innards but not the redthing

oh no, they say

everyone runs around, clearing off the table

i feel terrible,now they think they have insulted me

nono, i say, bring back the plate, i love chicken innards, my mom used to give me the chicken innards too, i say

just take off the redthing, that's all, i say, but bring back the rest, please

a collective sigh of relief

the plate comes back

now, i say, why am i eating alone

surely you are not going to leave me all alone to eat, surely you're not eating in the kitchen with the kids

let's all eat together, i say, i hate eating alone

so then everyone comes trooping back, plates in hand

adults around the table, children on the floor all around

it's christmas

lights ablink, chocolatebars aswing, we toast the elderly chicken and devour it, suck the bones dry and sop up the grease with the bread

    home | children | families | emails | contact  

my father told me my father told me   i dreamt that i was in that room where all the little gypsy children had been told to go to sleep

they were told to go to sleep, yes, because there was no food to eat

so they all lay down in twos and threes on couches and beds all around the room, huddled under the blankets, yes, because you see it was very cold

and then my father appeared in the room

he appeared wearing a suit that was a little bit short at the wrists and ankles

i remember thinking to myself that he seemed to have grown a bit since i saw him last

and when he appeared all the children, all around the room, on all the couches and beds, sat up

all around the room, on all the couches and beds, they threw off the blankets and they all sat up, smiling

and they had icecream cones in their hands

icecream cones appeared in their hands, in every little hand, as they sat up all around the room and i remember, just before i woke up, i felt very happy

        home | children | families | emails | contact  

the cows   the cows rutted roads, horses and buggies

at sundown, in the purple light, bells

the cows are coming home from the hills

the herd ambles along

then, one by one, know to turn into the right gate to the right house

some of the gates are beautifully carved

          home | children | families | emails | contact  

grandfather gets a house   this is janoska, 8 years old

so i went up to him and asked him, what

what, i said, why are you looking through the garbage

a toy, he said

i'd like to find a toy

he was looking to see if he could find something

he had found two plastic boxes so he had them in his arms

he was such a little kid, someone had done a real bad job of shaving his head

it was full of nicks

he was wearing nothing but a grownoutof pair of pants

barefoot

how old are you, i said

he looked about 5

  gyuszi, 11 years old

attends the supposed "helping school"

which is nothing but a gypsy children's warehouse

they teach them nothing

when he was about 5, he was hit by a car and developed a brain fever

now everyone thinks him slow

he is not slow, in fact, he is quite intelligent

only he forgets things easiy

and he's very sensitive

he feels things very deeply and gets angry





gets into fights a lot

  marcika, 7 years old

mother tried to get both him and janoska into school





the ubiquitous "helping school"





seeing as that is all that is available for them





gypsy children are automatically deemed "delayed"

the school refused to take them

maybe next year, they said

katika, 10 years old

she is the only one of the children to attend a real school, as she, before all the misfortunes befell the family, was being raised by her grandfather





who fought the authorities for her

unfortunately, she is still in first grade





due to being totally ignored in school

guess why

katika is very sweet





she is always trying to take care of the others

i bought her the sweater she is wearing





she wore it every day i was there

  mihaly junior, he is the oldest

he is 14, and in 7th grade in the "helping school"

he too knows neither to read or write

but he sure would like to

he knows he doesn't have a chance





he said to me, i don't want to end up like my parents

he is sporting a nice scab cause gyuszi was being beaten up in school and he went to his defense

so he got beat up instead

there are 9 children in the family, these and 4 other younger children at home

margitka 5, bobby, 3, szilike 2 and the baby, erzsike

erzsike had to stay in the hospital where she was born for 4 months cause the parents were not able to buy the milk powder needed to feed her

she is now at home

home | children | families | emails | contact

the families in the courtyard   mihaly and melinda gabor, the parents of the children

all the pictures on these pages were taken the day i left vasarhaly

i had borrowed a camera and we had a big picturetaking festival

the last picture this family had of their children was one of mihaly junior when he was 3

it was displayed on the wall, that picture

  mihaly and melinda with four of the children plus a cousin

  there are five families living in the courtyard, in that run down building

but it's a place to live, lot better than having no home at all

taking pictures was really something to be celebrated

all the families came out of the courtyard, everyone dressed in their finest

and when the pictures were developed, i put them in ban album and sent it to them, in revolutie street



here is gyula bacsi, the grandfather

gyula bacsi lives with mihaly and melinda and the nine children because when mihaly lost his job they also lost their place





and so they had to move into gyula bacsi's one room

so there is 12 people living there now

but things have now changed





  cousins

a few of the boys from the other families

they are all pretty good friends

almost all the chidren beg on the street, they have no choice, really

there simply is not enough money to for food, otherwise

  the ladies of revolutie street

one of the ladies very shyly asked me if i could take a picture of them too

sure, i said

so here they are

iren is the woman on the right

i just heard iren is in the hospital, had a heart attack

i think it might have been brought on by the upcoming eviction





everyone is very scared

    home | children | families | emails | contact

i hop on my bike and speed out of there

well actually there is a load on the back, some groceries and a roll of toilet paper, so i don't speed out of there, but i can tell if i hang outside the co-op there will be a conversation to get sucked into and i spend enough time with those people

there is a bit of sunlight left and the night air hasn't even set in, but there is a little chill in the air as i ride south

it was a beautiful day and outside on my breaks i wore my tank top and got some sun

i pass the bus stop and a family at the corner and there is a break in the cars and i cross commercial

cars have their lights on

i see a family sitting on the bench by the clinic and i remember the oddly beautiful sound of the hare krishnas singing this afternoon and playing their drums

they offered anna and me copies of the bagvata gita, which i know is spelt wrong, sorry

anna said, "we're going to our work

" the young man said back, "we're going to our god

" but anna thought he said, "we're going to our garden," and i'd believe her over me

i make eye contact with a creeping car and notice the perogy dinner sign in the park

drums are beating somewhere deeper in the park

the air is lighter, as i said, not as heavily magical as it seems to be when it's colder

the van is there

the one with the skulls

at lunch i asked anna what else he sells

she's lived in this neighbourhood most of her life and knows things about people, but she said she didn't know

the sky is getting darker and the lights brighter

i remember i forgot the butter in the fridge at work and think i will have to get some at the solo market

a woman steps out into the street to cross and i scoot behind her

a trail of skaters fly down the road

a red light stops me and then the green lets me go

it is another shade darker after i cross first and it is now downhill, so i just coast

i don't remember seeing the people in the coffee shop, but they would have been there, maybe having a bit of ice cream

and then i look into the fries place, because it smells so good and in that little second i think i see emily b

i decide to say hi and stop my bike and pull it around to the door

i walk in and say hi to emily b

she says hi and i give her a hug

she and her friend are ordering a mars bar

they say it like it's not quite legal or something and i look at them

"they sell mars bars here

" i say

"they're deep fried mars bars," emily b and her friend say at the same time

i think my face scrunches up, trying to conceive of that

i ask emily b if she wants to share some fries and she says yes and i order some with some mayonaise wasabi and garlic

emily b calls out to me, "do you know kirsten

" from the table

"no

" but now we've met

emily b is one of my young friends

i think she's around twenty now

she gets depressed in the winter and reads a lot

which, from my experience, seems to be a wonderful thing to do in your twenties

we were in a celibacy contest two summers ago together

steve was also in it

all of the roommates at the house on second were entered in

emily a had sex that first night with her girlfriend

unbeknownst to any of us louise was having a trist in toronto on pride weekend a few days later, so it must have been june

nick, who had been celibate for eightteen months already, no end in sight, hooked up with a girl at a party less than a month later and they're still together

we said the celibacy contest must have added the breivity necessary to get over his condition

then there was steve and emily b and me

one night we called one of those dating lines and left messages for people and messed with their minds

it was dirty and fun and a little evil

one guy left a message saying he didn't want to play mind games

he sounded really shy, nieve and nervous

i left him a message saying maybe he shouldn't be so sure he didn't want to play mind games

they could be a lot of fun

i was insinuating

he left us a message back saying, okay, maybe mind games would be fun

how do you play

we laughed like crazy, but we felt so guilty too

so i left him a really nice message begging him to be careful, that i was just playing with a few friends and we didn't really want a date, but he sounded really sweet and we hoped he found someone nice, and in the meanwhile he should take good care of his heart

he was from victoria and we didn't hear back from him

most of the other guys were very arrogant and we played fantasy games with them just long enough to get them hot and then asked them to play in our gay porn film

i guess i left most of the messages

i got tired and went to bed horney and guilty

and then just empty

steve was in it for a few months, but he knew when his end was in sight

his girlfriend was now due in from new mexico in a few days

he stopped joking with emily b and me about the contest and the two of us could no longer feel sorry for him like we did for ourselves

other people wanted to join the contest and we let them, but they didn't live with us so we couldn't comisserate daily on spinstership, bachelorhood, what the winner would win, and generally just pretend we were holding out for reason of the contest instead of our own lack of initiative or our disgust of ourselves and other human beings

after a while i didn't mind not having sex

emily b and i stopped talking about it

between two people it was a little weird

i seemed a little less repulsed by everybody and myself and started to enjoy music again

steve asked me if i was still in the contest

"yes, but i don't think about it too much

it's not bugging me like it was

" "so you're over the hump

" i laughed

emily b

hooked up with a friend of hers and i was the winner

i went for a year minus a week and then i had my first date with my sweety

anyway, emily likes to pretend and have fun

a lot of her friends do and i really like that

she is in lifeguard school and tells me about the glares she gets from the preppy fifteen year olds

even the forty year old lesbian in the class shaves her arm pits, emily b

tells us

emily doesn't know if the forty year old is really a lesbian, but she looks it

the preppy girl with the meanest glare told everyone, when it was her turn to share something about herself, that her dad had just bought a thirty-five foot boat

"what did you tell them

" i ask

"i can't remember what i said," emily b says

i ask, "did you tell them you were a big old lesbian

" "no, i don't want them to be uncomfortable around me

" "don't worry about them," i say, "worry about yourself

" the mars bar comes and we look at it it is deep fried with batter

we let it cool a little

kirsten is telling me about a hamock, she and lori, the young woman who is working here, are going to steal back from some people who took it from them seven months ago

blondie comes on and i start singing

"i sang this song in my math class in grade twelve

the teacher was telling a story about debbie harry

he knew her or something

and i just started singing the 'tide is high' really loud, but not so i messed the song up

" "what was people's reaction to that," they ask

"oh, some of them just rolled their eyes and said, 'oh lora

' and other people threw things

" "what sort of things

" "just paper

" emily really wants to get back into competative swimming, but she doesn't want to go to university

kirsten suggests she could pretend to be her

kirsten is going to ubc

"wouldn't they realise they'd never seen me around campus

" "no way, there are too many people

" "what if some of the people were in your classes

i would have to keep a low profile

i couldn't be exceptional

" no no, we encourage her

go for gold

it is decided that kirsten will have to keep the low profile

we'll coach emily on passing for a university student and kirsten suggests she say she is in courses that no one ever takes

"when are try-outs

" emily b asks

"on frosh week or one week before or after," i say

it's settled

we try pieces of the mars bar

it is just a sweet mucky goo to me, but i don't ruin it for kirsten who loves it

emily tells us about being on robson street after the gaylord show a few weeks ago with our friend aili

emily b

forgot she had her mustache on and people yelled things out of cars at them

"it's really scarey down there

" i agree, but she says, "no, i'm serious

" and i say, "yes, so am i

" lori passes us as she rushes outside saying, "wholesome goodness

" she sniffs as she gets outside, but she doesn't find what she is sniffing for

she comes back and tells us about people smoking up outside

one night the smell was so thick she thought someone was smoking in the store

"what the fuck

" she comes out of the back, but no one is smoking up in the store

she rushes outside and she sees this girl and she's got this big doobie

"are you smoking up out here

" lori asks

"the girl has this big stoggie," (the noun keeps changing) "and she says, 'yep

' so i say, 'okay, just checking' and i look at her





" (lori lightly pinches her thumb and her finger) "and yeah that was so beautiful

" we toss our garbage and pick up our stuff and i say goodnight to the girls and get on my bike and coast down the hill

it's dark now

i don't have to start peddling till grandview hwy

i remember to get the butter

the man is pulling in the last of the fruit stands inside

i get the butter from the woman and we talk about the beautiful day

i get on the bike again and turn down eleventh

the sky is blue to the west just above the horizon, lit like a drug lord's aquarium

it is beautiful and i can hear music coming from my house



i'm riding down commercial and it's past eight-thirty and there is still some light

i'm on the look-out for opening car doors and i don't see the people on the street

last night on my way to mekong to meet some friends, i saw haley in front of turks

just before i was going to say, "hi," she says to this couple, "you still have that glow of being in love

you've still got that glow

" it is unlikely she knows these people

this is the sort of thing she will say to strangers

people sometimes think she is teasing them, you can tell by how they look surprized and though they enjoy it, they seem ready to say, "i knew you were just kidding," at a moment's notice

but these people seem particularly non-plussed

the woman looks at her man and laughs and says, "thanks" to haley

but that was last night

tonight i'm riding by

i have a sore throat, which is my first indication of my monthly cold

i get sick a lot, but sometimes when writers talk about how sick they are and make you listen to the descriptions of the phlem wads they flush down the toilet it is boring

so i haven't mentioned all of my colds

but tonight i have buttoned up my shirt to the neck and i have the hood of my hoody around my bike helmet and people have laughed at me and told me i look like rick moranis in spaceballs

i'm wearing a lumberjacket over the hoody

a face leans out of a van

"hey lora

" it's anne

i see wilder in the back and i assume wade is driving

the car lights and the van lights are pretty

"do you want a ride

" "where are you going

" "applause video

we're returning a taste of cherry

" it must be late, i think

i ran into wade at the video store almost a week ago

he was in the window as i was going by

i went in to say hi and he asked for a recommendation

i kept looking for films telling him this was my favourite film and then remembering another more favourite film and telling him this was my favourite film

"no, i'll meet you there

" we arrive at the same time

wilder gets out

we say hi

he licked my hand while i was saying hi at one of the red lights we hit earlier

i give him some of the dog treats from my pocket

he likes them

i was worried they were too dried out, but he gobbles them up fine

they are pepperoni sticks for dogs

"are they for you or dogs

" "they are dog treats, for dogs," i say

"you just carry them around for dogs you meet

" "yeah

" "his people have stories about you," says anne, refering to wilder's "people

" "so i've heard," i say

they said they thought it would be me, they just knew, but there were no distinguishing features to confirm from behind me, but they knew

"who else would be brave enough to take this fashion stance," i say

i leave them there

they are going to get a video at a different video store, because the fines are too high for a taste of cherry and they can't afford to pay them

we laugh

i get on my bike and take off down tenth

i'm going to my friend shelley's place and mostly wind whistles past me

it's not like if i wasn't wearing a helmet, but i can get some speed

i pretend i'm playing chicken with the cars, but i'm not

there is just not enough space between the two sides of parked cars on the road for two lanes of traffic, but bikes can sneek by

past clark people are out by the skating bowl

there are some people up ahead looking at something in the middle of the road

they skoot off on the skooter

the hill is steep

i realise i forgot to ask anne about the reading she was to do friday, how it went

nothing happens really

i get there easily enough avoiding cars and pedestrians a couple of i'm sorry's exchanged in front of the hospital

i think that it was a nice ride here, but going home will be painful

i will be tired

i tie up my bike at hemlock and eleventh

i put a nice little basket on the back so i take off the bungie cords and remove the knapsack from the basket

i go knock with the metal knocker on the door

the little window in the door opens

it is the same metal as the knocker

a part of shelleys face looks out

"come on in," she sings

i come in and give her a hug

renee is there

i say hi

there is music and bottles around

renee offers me something to drink

i pick jack daniels since i figure it will be good for my throat

just a shot

shelley gives me a grapefruit

the sticker says,"florida #4047 indian river pride

" there is a dairy called valley pride

i always wonder what they are proud of

sometimes it sounds a little scarey

i take out my snacks from my knapsack and offer them

i ask shelley how the party was last night

i hosted a party at my place last night for my friend willa

it was her birthday, but i couldn't be there

april and i got talking and you know, even when you know someone really well, sometimes you don't understand them, but if you want to you can explain

but sometimes that takes a very long time

this didn't take too long, two days i guess

but it was very strange: us not understanding each other for two days

"i feel so far away from you," she said yesterday at breakfast

and we held hands under the table

they missed us, but had fun at my place

when i got home tonight there were party streamers hanging from the walls and the smell of red wine and a note that said, "have us over again sometime when you can join us

" we talk about serial killers

what else is there

well, we start by talking about the place where shelley and renee work

renee and another guy there share an interest in serial killers

they like to read books about them

we eat some snacks and i look at the budha that sits under the tv

we watch mulholland drive

i haven't seen very much david lynch

only that one about the guy and his tractor and some of twin peaks and the elephant man

this was more like twin peaks than the other two films

i screamed and we tried to figure out the film and all the symbols

there was a face in the tree when betty went into diane's house through the window

i don't really get this stuff, but it was like a faery tale

there was part of cinderella, snow white and red rose, hansel and gretel, beauty and the beast

i realise, looking around at shelley's place, that the details aren't cluttered enough in the film

maybe i would like to see a film that showed how things get where they are, because sometimes you just don't throw them out or move them to their proper place or you think you might use them later or you just like to look at them

and time is marked by where things get left and how long dirt is allowed to accumulate on them

i've just cleaned up, for that party, so i think about these things

but there is shelley's place too

and with the jack daniels is gin and wine and pepsi and chips and humous and rice crackers

there is the candlestick holder they have used as an ashtray and i tease them about being stoned when they say at the beginning that the movie is too slow

there is her bike and my coat hung on it and i look behind me because i'm getting creeped out by the movie

i say, "hey," to betty when she has her hand over her mouth at that house she's broken into, "if you smell a dead body, there is probably a dead body

get out of there

" she doesn't listen to me and they come upon a dead body

after the film i am tired and scared and when renee offers to drive me home i risk leaving my bike and take her up on her offer

we talk about blue velvet, which i have never seen, my family and the one time i went to visit my cousin john in victoria with my sister who was visiting me from toronto

when i was six and joanna was three and john was nine we went to visit aunt phyllis and john the son of the man she'd just married, uncle rudy

they lived in an apartment in victoria park

i had just seen oliver on tv

the one from the thirties or something and because john's mom had died i guess i associated him with orphans

we played in the starewells and scared my sister and then i had to get her to stop crying

then we ran around and rang people's doors and ran off

my sister was scared we'd get caught and threatened to tell on us, but she had to stick with us

actually both joanna and i had to stick with john

we didn't know our way around or how to get back to aunt phyllis' apartment

i got stoned with john in victoria a few years ago, when joanna and i went to visit him

we reminisced about when we were little

then he drove us out to some spit by the sea and we took pictures and john and i smoked up and the sun off the sea sparkled everywhere

i got scared in the car when the lines started to waver and when it seemed to take half an hour to answer a question

i told them i was incapable of making any decisions about where we should eat and was having a bit of a rough time, ten minutes later my sister put her hand on my shoulder

at the restaurant i tried to phone people in vancouver, a roommate and a guy i'd just slept with, to get help

when no one was home i went back to the table and told joanna that i thought john was trying to get us to miss the last ferry

i said to my youngest sister, "you'll have to take care of us now

" i confessed to john that i was having paranoia and asked him if it was just pot we smoked

it was, he said

the voices around us flew by like clouds of laughs on a windy day

when finally we got on the bus to meet the ferry, i burst into tears with relief

i felt fragile for the rest of the night and my sister made me promise i would never smoke pot again

renee tells me that sounds more like acid than pot

she drops me off at my house and i walk up the stairs to my apartment to the smell of red wine and the note from our friends



the health inspector and the residential tenancy officer are in my kitchen

i show them the rusty pipe that runs rusty water

this is the least of our problems

the toilet has been on the blink for a week and the bath has been out of use for longer than that

they've seen the sewage dripping down in the apartment below

the people there have gone away for the week

as she's explaining the procedure of filling out a work order, the residential tenancy officer lifts her shoe and looks back at her heel

i guess she feels like she's stepped in something

there may be a few crumbs but i've been careful not to splash when i've been pissing into the bucket late at night

but they are gone now and i am just waiting for elizabeth to come over

will and i talk about the visitors and the landlord

the cat, pepper, circles in eights between will and my legs

will is talking

he just doesn't stop

you can be half way down the walk and he's still talking to you

i get some tofu ice cream

yeah, it sounds gross, but the amaretto is really good

i put two heaps of solidified coconut milk on top and shove spoonfuls into my mouth

the doorbell rings

i put away the junk food and go answer the door downstairs

"hey elizabeth," i say

"hi

" "macko

" macko jumps up and trots up the stairs

"do you have some water for macko

" "yeah

" "i could use some too

" "no problem

" i grab a yellow and brown bowl and a yellow cup and fill them with the water from the jug

"i have to relax," elizabeth says as she sits on the futon in the kitchen

i put macko's bowl down on the floor and set the cup down on the table

"has the inspector been here

" "yes

they saw the pipes

they called the landlord and told him they were issuing a work order and that he was required to fix the problem

they said it might take till monday to get it fixed

" i sit down on a chair

we talk a bit about the lack of promotion for the project

"she's just promoting it locally

she contacted extra west and i asked her why

she said, 'because of lora, she's writing about gay issues

'" we both laugh

elizabeth goes into her high voice and flails her arms, tosses her head in imitation of the woman

"no, lora is writing about lora

" "it's pretty offensive to have your writing reduced to issues," i say

elizabeth tells me about a documentary about a person who was a friend of hers she saw on cbc

"it wasn't exactly sad

it was tragic

" i get up from the chair

"what's that on your shirt

" elizabeth says

"what

" "that, it looks like puke

" she laughs

"no, it's just toothpaste





" i start to explain how that happened as if it was important she knows exactly what i was doing and elizabeth says, "yeah, i know, i've done that before, but it looks like puke

" i look at it

"yeah, it does look like puke," i say

"oh well i'll just wear my fabulous sweater

" i put on the cardigan elizabeth gave me for my birthday a few years ago

"i don't need anything do i

" i ask the contents of my bag

elizabeth puts on her coat and we all pile down the stairs

it is a wonderful day, warm and summery

we look down the street

"look, the flowers are out

" "the blosoms are on the trees

" "they just came out now, on my walk here they weren't out

" "what a great day

" "they are bursting

just look they are bursting

just bursting

" "yeah, bursting

look at that one

" it is higher up a magnolia perhaps

"oh, it's beautiful

everywhere bursting

" we pass a woman

macko doesn't sniff her, he's just trotting on up ahead

"pfffft





" macko's little asshole flaps

"macko farted

" we both laugh

we pass houses and you can smell grasses drying and the good smell of spring after the initial stenches of melted winter are gone

we pass a fenced hill of dirt where there used to be a house

we pass more houses

"let's go to the salvadoran restaurant

" "it's moved

" we go check it out

it is now a place that sell all day breakfast

we pass the tattoo shop, the silvertone tavern, where two groups of two drink outside

we pass the dentist, the street, the black hairdressers, the dollar store

an old woman carries a purse and smokes a cigarette

the ash is starting to droop off the end of the cigarette

there is the pawn shop, the market, macko takes a piss

we came across the man and his dog in front of the solo market

i told elizabeth about the meat the dog was carrying in his mouth the first time i had seen the two of them, the man and the dog, and that i had seen him and the dog in the laundry mat two weeks ago and the dog was carrying a can of beer in his mouth this time, the same kind the man was holding in his hand today

elizabeth noticed the chain

it was just a link of chain like you can buy at the hardware store by the meter

elizabeth said something about them being each other's best friend in the whole world

we pass the corner store, the video store and now there are people milling about around the corner and the bus stop

we see filis ahead with roisin

"i believe that's filis," says elizabeth

i say, "hi

" elizabeth taps her shoulder

we cross

filis asks me if i'm moving

"yeah, i don't have a toilet

" "oh

" roisin and i smile at each other

"what a great dog

" people say, "bouvier

" "is that a newfoundlander

" "what kind of dog is that

" "i thought bears were extinct in the city

" roisin says goodbye to filis as we cross the street and walks back

there is a little pit bull that's got it's tail curled under it's bum

"oh look it's scared

" the dog noticed macko out of the corner of it's eye, but doesn't look directly our way

its back is curled and the curled tail is so tightly tucked the tip comes up to its chest

"do you still live down eighth

" "yep, i guess i'll be living there until





" elizabeth finishes the sentence

"until your house falls into the ravine

" "yeah, it's nearly there

" filis turns down the street

we keep going across the bridge

we cross at grandview

"they found three more women," elizabeth says

"i heard," i say

we stop at the bench where the bus doesn't stop anymore

the people sitting there are interested in macko, ask questions, but they don't pet him

we keep going

i get some money from the credit union

i say to wendy, "great day

the blossom are really beautiful

" "yeah, it is wonderful

" elizabeth has tied up macko at the entrance, he's not allowed in

"i'll be just a minute," she says

"she goes talks to the loan manager

i wait with macko

there is the latest copy of extra west

i really like the "he said, she said," where they quote people from the religious right and famous queers

they had a whole bunch of quotes from ian mcclellan a few weeks ago

i read about two dykes that got harrassed for kissing on the sea bus

they were doing a performance art piece for art school where they kiss on public transportation and a third person has a video camera and catches the reactions of other people on the bus or skytrain or sea bus

they only got harrassed by staff on the sea bus

having been myself physically assaulted on public transportation and knowing the racial harrassment on public transportation, this is not something i'd do with my sweety for kicks

they are probably only ten years younger than us and they are a different generation, where sometimes maybe you aren't aware of the position and estimated aggression level of everybody within thirty feet when you kiss in public

hopefully

that's a pain in the ass

(hows that for gay issues

)

elizabeth comes out, unties macko

"he's was really great

he remembered me," she says

"he helped me with my loan for my computer," i say

"he's really nice

" we walk up commercial

looking for the salvadoran restaurant

"there's a lot of new restaurants here

" we come to it

a woman is eating in the window

it looks dark and cool inside

outside the sun is hot and there is no shade

"we can't eat here

there's no shade for macko

" there are a few trees that have the shade of vans covering them, but they will move

we keep walking

we cross at third and pass the pet food store where will works

pass the fries place

some men on bikes stand on the road

a parking car beeps at them and they go onto the sidewalk with their bikes

the car backs up where they were and parks

we go into nuff niceness

the woman is reading at the counter by the window

we say hi

"what can i get you

" i look at the chalk board

"jerk chicken

" "jerk chicken

" "thanks

" two women sit with a child, finishing their dinner

it smells wonderful

the poster on the side of the drinks cooler says jamaican patties

i sort of laugh inside because once i ordered a jamaican patty here and the man said to me, "canadian patty

" "okay

" i said, point taken

the woman brings two soups

"we get soup

" elizabeth says

"i've never had the soup here," i say

it is a pea soup, hot and spicey

elizabeth gets up

"there are no newspapers here," she says and goes out

i sip my soup

there are paintings of people up on the walls, some of whom i recognise

some of the table cloths are red and green and others are flowered

elizabeth comes back with a paper

she takes the first section, i take the local news

i go to the back to the washroom

there are a few rice grains in the sink and a few dishes to be washed

i try one door, the broom closet

i try the other door that does not say exit, the washroom

it smells like soap

the furnace is there and under it is a grocery bag and a six pack

i piss and wash my hands and dry them on my shorts

i go back to the paper

i am reading about jenny kwan, my mla, facing discipline for leaking a government document

hard liquor is being sold at cold beer and wine stores, but sales were low the first weekend

maybe the shelves weren't well stocked

they have pretty pictures of canadian club and beefeater gin et al

this is the boring news

the woman brings the chicken with salad and peas and rice

"no

they have a list of serial killers and jack devorkian is on the list

" "what

" "he's serving ten years right now

" "i didn't know he was in jail

" "neither did i

" "that's crazy

" "all over europe they're legalising euthanasia

it's just because of the religious right

" i eat a mouthful of rice

we switch sections

in the article elaine is describing one of the women found

she'd met all three

she said the woman seemed to be just passing through, experimenting, she didn't seem to belong here

she was very articulate, maybe university educated

perhaps elaine is being misquoted, i think

the woman went missing a month before they caught the man

the police had known about the farm since 1998, the article says, but as other people have said there have been infrequent articles about the place for fifteen years or something

i read the serial killer list

it seems odd

there is no mention of paul bernardo and karla homolka

no mention of jamestown

the list seems to be about the number of deaths

a man the other day was talking at my till about psychopaths, specifically refering to gordon campbell, our premier

"he'll end up killing more people than charles olsen

" "i think you mean charles manson and cliff olsen

i don't think it's a good idea to mix up the psychopaths," i joke

later i think, why did i call him cliff olsen, not clifford

when i was eleven i read part of a book about him and the kids he killed

a girl at my music camp lent it to me

i put the paper down and finish my chicken

i try not to think about it

the textures are stronger than the tastes for a while and then the tastes come back

elizabeth goes outside for a smoke

i go to pay for my meal

"that was really great

" "thanks

" outside we pass some newpaper boxes

"stop the jewish horror" it says on the box

no it's not, i think angrily

"do you want to go to the cheap clothing store

" i ask elizabeth

elizabeth finishes her smoke and i ask if macko can come in

"if he's good

" "oh, he's really good

" i look at some tank tops and skirts

there are some dresses, but they wouldn't fit me

elizabeth looks at a rack and then comes over

"what do you think about these

" "they're great

" she is wearing some yellow sunglasses

she tries on other ones

"huh

" she tries on some really round black glasses

"i like them

" "you like everything

" "okay, no, that's not so good

" "that's better

" i look at some bracelets that have glass beads in them

we get the glasses

just before we leave she tries on some round blue ones

"those are the ones," i say

they are like glasses out of a comic

we leave them behind

"let's get a coffee

" "okay

" we see the wonderbucks and go in to look at more stuff

i don't see a can opener that looks like it would last more than a month

i read a book called, do you remember 1979

it's all about gas prices and american hostages in iran, cars and patty hearst

we leave without buying anything

not even the metal garbage cans elizabeth was admiring

we pass the expensive cheese store

"no cheese treats today

" we pass a man at the corner who has his camping gear hanging off his bike

"these glasses are really yellow, they really intesify the glare," she passes them over

i feel like i'm bumping into every surface i see

i wear them for a little while

we pass the vegetable market and the blossoms i see when i look down gravely have lost any deepness they have in their pink colour and just reflect light back

the chrome of cars sparkles in my eyes and the sun sears

i have to squint

i think maybe if you could look through them backwards, but i try that and it doesn't work

we come to another clothing store

they have fishnet pantyhose

close, but no cigar

but they have lots of other neat stuff

the woman at the counter goes googoogaagaa over macko

elizabeth taps the counter and macko hops up his front paws

the woman can't find her dog treats

there are wigs and underwear

pants and skirts

we find the hairdressings and play with the different scrunchies and head bands

"this was my grandma who died when i was five's favourite colour

" i tell elizabeth, showing her a lavender headband

"yuck

" "she made all sorts of pillows and things

" "maybe i could get this for my sister," i say

"it's nothing she couldn't find in toronto

" it's true, i think of funky smelling dried mushrooms and fish

i try on a purple head band

"try it with the glasses," says elizabeth

it doesn't match my cardigan, but i like it even though it looks silly

i wear it and buy it

outside we walk down past the video store to the nice stuff store

the man is cleaning the windows

it is difficult because there is iron work behind the glass

he says he cleans them once a year, but now that the sun is out you can really tell it needs it

we look at little fake modigliani's

i have been pronouncing modigliani wrong

i open a wood box

"that would be something you like

" i like wood

there are some chicken icons

more people come into the store when we're there

"i love chicken icons," says the woman

a man seems to be yelling at someone outside

he is wearing a black robe and a cap

we are a little taken aback i guess

elizabeth and the man joke about him

outside i see him waiting on the corner, but there is no one he is yelling at now

we pass

we try to save seats out at turks, but someone else takes it

"hey," elizabeth calls

we go to the entrance

there is michael

"hi

" "oh, hi

how are you

" "good

you

" "really good

" "do you two know each other

" "elizabeth, michael

" michael reaches out his hand

"nice to meet you

" he gives up his seat, but there are other seats and we all sit

"i really like your music," michael says to elizabeth

"oh

" "yeah

" "from when

" "from a long time back

" "yeah

" "but i saw something you did





" michael thinks

"under the volcano

" "ah yes, with the hungarian gypsies

" "yeah that was great," "yeah, i got the audience drunk

" "yeah

" they laugh

terry is in roller skates, "hey, elizabeth

" i'm going to get the coffees

"could you get me a latte

" sure

i order a latte and a soy latte

i don't know who is singing, but it's kind of half way between louis armstrong and tom waits

michael comes in and asks to use the phone

travis says something i can't hear that ends in ass

"i was just going to," michael says and kind of smirks

travis and i talk in the same tone as the singer

as i order and pay him and get back the change

i have to order the latte again because they didn't realise i was ordering two coffees

i get water, but i can't carry it all so i get sugar for our coffees and take them out and come back for the water

i hook the glasses on my cardigan

sit down

michael is standing now

"pull up a chair," says elizabeth

"no i'd rather be hanging

" he repeats that a few times

i put on the glasses

i take off the glasses

i wave to jeanette

"oh hi, i didn't recognise you

" "it's the headband

it's my disguise," i say

terry goes on about her in green

"where's revena

" "she should be along any moment now

" "we ran into her here about the same time last year" i remember because a friend stopped and invited me to a seder supper, but when i asked if elizabeth and revena could come he said there was not enough food

we drink our coffees

elizabeth asks me how april is

"she's good," i say

it is ridiculous, but sometimes i feel shy to talk about her

a woman who works there takes a break near us

a man who knows her says, "you can sit on my lap

like santa clause

you can tell me what you want

" her friend says, "i want to get off

" they laugh uproariously

she has no intention of sitting on his lap

macko doesn't want to go into the pet store for a treat without elizabeth

"my dog the drama queen," says elizabeth

i get him some dried beef sausage

he crunches it outside

we walk back

"these glasses would probably be good for the days and months of rain here," i say

we pass people and their dogs

one old european lady holds a dog in her lap

the dog has a barette in its hair

elizabeth and i laugh to ourselves

"people and their dogs," she says

"it's amazing what people's dogs say about them

i wonder what this one says about me

" "that you're the best human in the world

" that's something we say about macko, only switch dog for human

"maybe something about my woeful insecurity

" we pass the places we went by

half the stores are closed

it's a little cooler and we are in shadows

the light is not yet a pretty colour, but the sun is lighting the clouds pink

there are fingers of clouds

we get to the granview bridge

there are some earphones hanging from a tree

"this is so stupid

it's going the same way

" it's the skytrain they are building another route that goes out to surrey

"they need one that goes this way

" "yeah, to the main and broadway station

" we laugh

"that takes dogs

"yeah

" we cross the street

"i'm helping april fix her bike, but do you want to come over

" "woofie

april's allergic

" "oh right

" we walk up broadway

i will turn at woodland to pick up my bike, a wrench and the three in one oil

elizabeth will carry on up broadway to main and home or some such thing

the sky is pretty with the pink

"we should both write about our walk

from the two different perspectives

do you want to

" "yeah, for sure

" "we'll send it to wire

i'll call mine a walk with lora and you'll call yours a walk with elizabeth

" "okay

" "when should the deadline be

" "thursday evening

" "okay

" we say good by and i cross the street in the break in traffic



so i come out of granville street into the sugar refinery

the last time i was here was the night of my sweety's and my first kiss

i had given her a tea for easter, not because i normally give easter presents, that was just an excuse

we had had some of this tea at the easter pot luck, but i had made a huge pot and only a few of us had had any

i had crushed the cinnamon bark under my feet, shelled the cardamon seeds with my fingers, chopped the figs and ginger and dried them, roasted the chicory root on the cast iron pan and left the cloves and pepper corns whole

the whole process took a few hours over two days and i was giving it to april as an aphrodisiac

i didn't tell her and though i hoped it would work, cinnamon supposedly being a very powerful aphrodisiac for women, i also thought nothing would work

well that night we went to the sugar refinery

we had just come from a movie with our friends

sometimes i ask my sweety to tell me a story as she's falling asleep

she tells me a story about "our friends

" they are always very helpful to us, but misadventure inevitably befalls them and we have to bail them out of the trouble they got into trying to help us

april repeats "our friends" about twenty times in the story and the first time i hear "our friends" i start giggling uncontrolably and giggle the whole way through the story except when i'm thinking to myself, how did she think of that, that's brilliant

in the morning i have to repeat the story to her, because she's really halfway asleep and she never remembers

anyway our friends saved us seats, but they saved one less than the number of our group

so i decided to sit with april and sat down at the very back of the theatre with april's bag

as she was going up to the front of the theatre to make a presentation she saw me sitting with her bag and said, "are you sitting with me

" i said, "yes" and hoped that was okay

when she came back she put her face up to mine, our foreheads touching, and said, "i think i'm really going to like sitting with you

" i said, "i think i'm really going to like sitting with you

" then the movie started and at the first gun shot she grabbed my hand

then like teenagers we started playing with each other's fingers and then i nuzzled her neck and then she very slowly brought her face around to mine and we kissed

it was dizzying

we had liked each other for a very long time

we went to the sugar refinery later and she told me she really liked that tea, she'd bathed in it

i nearly choked on my beer

when i told her weeks later why i had given that tea to her, that it was an aphrodisiac

she was shocked and she laughed like crazy and called me a vixen, just before she showed me how she grabbed a handful of soaked tea bark and seeds and rubbed her elbows and knees with it

but tonight i'm trying to find some music

i'm alone and my friend elizabeth might show up and my friend steve might also show up, but they might not

a girl in a pink hoody drinks a pink frothy drink

her face looks pink too

she chews on a stick of something

it is dark and silhouetted

two guys talk and a woman sitting close to one of them looks on, laughs, looks away, looks bored, laughs

maybe two minutes ago she was feeling disconnected and now she is feeling more with the people

the whole table laughs

the other guy stares at his bracelet

the bass warms up, bowing and plucking

"i was hungry

" the jazz and the voice recording and the crackling voices

"





losing weight





" "





hanging out together





" "





it's like all down and dirty

" there are mason jars of beer and candles burning, melted onto the lids

the girl in the pink goes up the the guy doing sound

they talk

"





he'd be instantly fucked if he had a few beers





puking and and you'd want to party





but





" i'm taking up a whole table

that girl

the one that might have felt disconnected earlier

the guy with her tickles her tummy, but she shoves his hand away

pink hoody puts on her coat

tonight the street ministries are out

they give out coffees and maybe service times or biblical cartoons

i don't know

i learned everything i needed to know about hell when i was seven from those cartoons

my religious aunt phyllis gave them to us and i read them, like i read everything

people were disgusting and lecherous and then they were either saved or they went before god and were condemned to hell and fell eternally in the agonizing flames

there was a place to sign at the back to say that you love the lord jesus christ and ask him to save your soul from eternal damnation

well i signed

technically it probably doesn't count because it was in pencil

i wasn't allowed to have pens, i would have got the ink everywhere, i guess my mom thought

although when i turned six, for my birthday, my dad and i were out at a bookstore

maybe it was a few days before my birthday

i saw some pens at the counter and was looking at them

they were bics

they looked hard and glassy and you could see the sliver of ink inside

and there was the blue nob on the end and the blue cap with the pokey end

tonnes of them in a clear jar

i wanted one and knowing with my dad it was worth a shot i asked if i could have a pen





for my birthday

he said yes as if it seemed perfectly reasonable

i either told him or he knew that i wasn't allowed to have a pen, because he said it was our secret

and then with my colouring book at my birthday i got the pen

i acted surprised and we looked at each other and i held it and didn't let it out of my hand because i didn't know if mom would say i couldn't have it, but she didn't say anything, and i knew that meant i could keep that one pen

she was right though

i soon realised you could chew off the nob at the end with your teeth and then push out the ink part and then it did explode and i got my fingers and the sink stained trying to clean up

inside here the beers are frothy and cloudy

maybe the difference between classical music and jazz is the warm up time

this group of people comes in

they are university students it seems

there aren't very many seats except for the big table i'm sitting at

four of them

i know they will come over and ask to sit with me which they do

which is fine

"are you friends of the band

" i ask

"no, we're enemies of the band

" they are very funny

a woman and three guys

we find out what we do

i tell them about the grocery store and the project and they don't believe that i will write about them

they don't believe that i'm taking notes for my story as we talk

there is red velvet and dead trees for decor

a woman in a wine red turtleneck smiles at the other end of the place

she has a beautiful smile

she looks to the band still smiling

she is with a woman who closes her eyes and nods her head

the woman in the wine turtleneck goes behind the velvet curtain

she looks curious in gloves

not the wine turtleneck woman, someone else

she looks curious in her gloves, looking around the room

leaning forward into her gaze, breathing with her sternomastoid process piano fingers, snares

she and the doorman who is looking like one of the geekier beats

she is a storyteller there are a sleugh of young humans

rock beats slow

like lazy jazz, like things falling off the side of the table in the water

she has a little mustache the storyteller points with her gloved hand and sits at the doorman's desk it is a little wooden schoolroom desk and something heavy falls off that table, the whole table overturns and the rest of the notes fall off and it's all over

the storyteller, who may be an actor, she is indicative her mouth moves like she knows another language something shakes my seat and sounds like a skill saw

i think it is a blender, but the waitress told the girl, the disconnected one, that they were out of smoothies

it is a little like saying we are out of movement, since you could be out of soya milk or out of berries, or out of energy or out of limbs, but how could you be out of smoothies or movement

a cow bell sits on the snare drum and gets hit and jumps up and down off the drum

the pitch of the sax rises and rises, the bass grunts, the drummer adds another cymbol

it sounds like a curtis mayfield song, the bass part

they are teasing the girl beside me

she laughs falling over

she throws her hand up and hits the branch of the dead tree beside her

it flicks and she laughs harder

the doorman is tucking his belt into his pants belt loopholes the storyteller gets up she has her hat and her mug in her gloves in her hands the woman who ate the leaf looks at the man beside her in disbelief

not the serious kind of disbelief, the smiling, "i know you're lying" kind

the storyteller leans to the side close to the doorman he has taken his woolen pullover off and holds his arms behind his back his hands are in his back pockets "third world sportscast

" he takes his checked shirt off and fools with his fly crosses his arms in front of himself in his blue t-shirt their elbows keep touching she spins her hat on her hand he clenches his arms on his chest and lets go arms in pockets arms at sides fiddling with the hem arms back stretching arms they are dancing in a way with the gravity between them he has a little apron "i don't want that for right now anyway," says the leaf-eater

she steps away taps her foot to the floor steps back close to him they stare at the schedual of events on the chalkboard he twists his fingers behind his back his chin matches the line along her neck and shoulder kind of like africa and south america the platetechtonics of flirting his arms fly out he smiles big he is picking at his forearm she is putting on her coat taking it off putting it on struggling with the arm he holds her coat helps her get her arm in "do you know the lindyhop

" the girl beside me asks me

i don't and i don't mention that my sweety is teaching me the cha-cha-cha and the swing

they are talking about university stuff

"double dip the pen nib" "sloppy seconds" which is worse

shadows jump from my hand on the page

then they are talking about bruce's "lacluster love life

the girl beside me is in psychology, but she can alliterate

he complains that he doesn't know what to do

he wants this girl, this woman, she's doing her masters in english, but she seems a bit too conservative for him

amy tells bruce, "you know, you're pretty conservative yourself

" i tell him to not let that stop him from experiencing new things

this girl he likes still lives at home with her parents

amy tells him if he waits much longer their friendship will cement and he won't get a chance to make a move

she tells him he wants it safe, but he doesn't want a commitment and so he should either take some risks or get a girlfriend

he's embarrased a little, but laughing, "you're right

" he tells her

he says it's easier for girls, guys ask them out all the time and they just have to turn down the wrong ones

she lists off mutual friends of theirs, girls, who've never dated anyone, "but they're so cute," says bruce

she tells him how she went after her last boyfriend

she humbles him

they get ready to leave

i wish bruce good luck with his affair

he doesn't understand me and says, "she doesn't have a husband

" the velvet curtain lifts for a while

someone has an arm around a man behind the velvet curtain

in my mouth is saliva taste and held cords that worble with reverb

you can see bone definition in the doorman's humerus he holds his gottee i am getting tired and my heartburn kicks in

steve walks in and then i notice the storyteller is gone

i missed how they parted and i am so disappointed

steve and i go over to the velvet curtain, but we sit at a table

the band is too close

steve and i talk

people still come in and out from the velvet curtain

elizabeth and ron walk in, someone is reading a book called addiction

bottles and glasses cut the light lines, i just want to go home, but i'm hoping steve has a car and will drive

i've missed the last bus

some time must pass elizabeth and ron are gone

and some girl who hasn't been out much in the past four years because she had a boyfriend and now she doesn't talks with steve about how weird it is to be out with other people

how ackward socializing is

they are pissed off at the loud table with the disconnected girl, but it's all music the laughing and ignoring and yelling i suppose

the band is finished and time stretches in the air between me and steve and his friend and it feels like after you finish spinning and everything around you keeps spinning, but you can feel your feet firmly planted

i'm just tired

we talk about how we hate patty schmidt

the other girl started it and i just agree with her to have something to say

steve knows her so we back down

it's easy for me

i don't really care

i have hated her interviews, but i love the music she plays and so what that she's pretencious, mostly i feel, that late at night, that i'm playing hooky from the rest of humanity, so i really wouldn't want some sympathetic and earnest person telling me facsinating stories about the musicians, i just want to go to scarey places with the music, with the lights on of course, looking over my shoulder every once in a while because i feel watched

anyway, i ask steve if i can get a ride part way home

he says he'll drive me, it will make him feel better about bringing the car

he tells me about kinkos and trying to get here

he talks with the band and we walk to the car

we talk

he's had a difficult time, but things are good

i think i know that he's broken up with his girlfriend and i guess that was pretty painful

he seemed to adore her

but we don't talk about that

he drops me off at april's i hug him goodnight and buzz april to let her know in advance i'm home



once i was visiting a friend in new westminster

new westminster is one of the oldest of the colonised places here

it is about an hour by transit to that place where she used to live with the person that used to be her husband

how she ended up there is a very interesting story, but it is her story and i hope she tells it some day

so we were visiting and her husband wasn't home

he was working

we talked

we talked and talked

she was reading a lot about budhism

she would go to meditations and she would tell me the stuff that she studied

she talked about this meditation practice called tong glen

i don't know how it is spelled, but that's how it sounded to me

as i may or may not have indicated i am fairly deaf and i lip read a lot and don't hear things very well in noisy, dimly lit bars

my friend elizabeth, after meeting my mom, commented that my mom didn't hear very well

i agreed

"that's probably why you speak the way you do

" she meant that i announciate in an exaggerated way, but i had forgotten that i did that and felt freekish for about five seconds before i realised that was the least of my worries

anyway

so my friend told me that tong glen is where you concentrate on your breathing

you breath in bad and you breathe out good

you transform things in that imperceptible hiccup between intake and exhilation of breath

budhists and maybe my friend will tell me that's totally wrong or not exactly right, but that's how i understood it

maybe they mean breathe in suffering and exhale wellness, tomato, tomawto

so she had to go off to work in the morning and i got up so i could leave with her because her husband had come home at seven in the morning at which time he gave her a hard time about me being there

seeing as we'd been up till three talking it was less easy to take than normal i suppose

so i get on the skytrain at new west station and sit down and in front of me is a saturday night reveller

there is puke in his hair and his clothes reek of urine and beer

he is nodding off and jerking up and so i practice this tong glen thing and breathe in bad and breathe out good

and i figure i'm doing it for him, like blowing all this good luck air around him so, once he's out of the agony of the hangover, i'm sure he's not sober enough to have yet, he'll have a better time of it

i read somewhere that pisces have fairy dust and that they can sprinkle it on other people

i know that's ridiculous, but when i tell people that and then mime like i'm sprinkling fairy dust on them you should see them glow

just their smiles, but wow

that's my religion, luck

my way of making suckers feel good

so friday night i get on the bus to find some music

there is kirt

he panhandles outside of the food co-op and when i first met him a friend told me he had a crush on me

i don't think he still does, but we talk and sometimes i'll read him some of the poetry i'm reading at the time

george faludy or jim carroll or something

he sells me stuff like the cordless phone i have that barely works or the really great stockings from the sixties he found or the cotton sheets i use for love making

he needs a bath tonight and some fresh laundry

i sit down and we talk about the pasta place

he's got a meal

noodles and tomato sauce and ground beef

he's going home

everything outside looks orange because it's dark and it has been raining and the lights are orange and they reflect against everything in the rain

this is the bus down hastings and we pass the steak house, the one with the show business lights, but the lights are out and i can't think why, but it was good friday and maybe the place was closed

the lights outside of the astoria are on though and this is kirt's stop

i tell him i used to live near here

he gets off the bus

we lived four blocks away on union street

i was studying hungarian from tapes and there must be a hotel in budapest called the astoria because there is a part on the tapes where it asks "where are you staying

hol lakik

" and the reply is "i am staying at the astoria hotel

az astori‡ban lakom

" i told my roommates this as we were going there for beers one time

one of them laughed

the place beside the union gospel mission thrift store is undergoing renovations and there are four stories of scafolding

other than that i notice how people move

one woman wears tight jeans and she looks like she's going to meet someone

one man waits by the payphone in front of the convienience store i bought the ingredients for my first meal from when i moved into that house on union street

i had pasta with an alfredo sauce

it was rainy and dark and i was coming home from the bookstore, but i nearly took the wrong bus, because i had moved from the place i had been living for three and a half years the day before

i didn't know what i would do because it was too cold to sit in my room and read and i didn't know the people i was living with, but if i cooked something it would give me an excuse to be in the kitchen and maybe someone else would be around

so i get off the bus at granville and robson and i go to the granville book company

i find a book of the screenplay of ghost world and read all the stuff in it that isn't the screenplay

there is some stuff about crumb's daughter who did the cartoons for the film

there is some elaboration about coon's chicken and what was real history and what was faked for the movie

i have to shift my ass off the stairs where i'm sitting reading because someone wants to walk up them

i go put the book back and there is martin's friend

i sometimes ask her her name, but i always forget it so this time i don't bother

we've ran into each other at a few airports

and just today i saw her and told her about the plumbing problems in my house

she and her sweety were going to see a beautiful mind

i told her i had read that he was bisexual and in an open relationship with his wife but that that hadn't made it into the film

but i was fooling with the bead on my earing and it fell out

i found it on the carpet, but it had broken and i couldn't put it back in the earing

they were looking at wallpaper

i thought it was a magazine about wallpaper, but they said it was a magazine about superficial surface things

"so you could take the pages of the magazine and paste them to your wall," i say

they agree

there is something on the cover about paper folding

they are interested in paper folding, but martin's friend says there is nothing on the inside about paper folding

i tell them about the place on main street near powell

the place where there are hundreds and hundreds of orgami mobiles

that they should go see it

someone else has told them about it and they think now that that they must check it out

i say goodbye to them

i am heading to the sugar refinery

one of the wonderful things about storytelling is that immediate demands take over

the plumbing problem is this: i don't have a toilet and i don't have a shower

it has been okay for me since i've been staying at my sweety's place, but it is much better to write at my place

i have been peeing in my compost bucket and dumping it in the garden, and burning lots of incense because the walls are mildewing with all the water that ran out of the tub and the toilet when we were first discovering the problem on wednesday

but now i have to shit and it is making me feel primarily like i have to shit, but also like i have to burp, that really full feeling and i can't hold it much longer, because i really don't have a problem shitting

so i will have to walk the four blocks to my sweety's place with a full bowel, avail myself of her toilet and finish the story later



something catches my eye at the cash

outside gulls are swooping the road

i tell the woman at the till, "the seagulls are swooping something on the road

" i stop what i'm doing to look

i can't see what it is on the road, "maybe it's a piece of pizza," i say

"they'll be killed," she says, not very alarmed

but later there is no evidence of that

after work i got to the pool

it is only two blocks away and on friday nights i usually go with april

she is sick, so i go alone

but when i get there i realise i have left my wallet in the store

it is too late to get it, every one is gone

so i wonder if they will let me go in and pay another day

i find four dollars

i'm fifteen cents short, but she lets me in

while i'm scraping around for a spare quarter i find more change

on my way up to the weight room i give her the extra fifteen cents

"i found some more change, here

" "thanks

things smell of plastic and oil and sweat

i go to the bicycle and cycle for five minutes

you can see people in the pool

they are swimming below and i look for allan

he is an odd duck

and i'm not exactly saying that in an endearing way

he talks to april a lot and april finally had to tell him not to talk to her while she was swimming

a couple of weeks ago he was swimming in the pool with an open wound

he said a pit bull had attacked him and the girl just ran off with her dog while he bled there

he had his cell phone, so he was able to call the ambulance

he told us what he would do to her, the girl, if he found her

something about a baseball bat

i thought i was going to puke and told him i thought it was a really bad idea to escalate violence, but he had a right to be pissed off

you can tell it would be something like of mice and men in the end

he's there in the pool below me swimming

his head swings from side to side as he swims

he doesn't put his face in the water

the pins and the weights ting and clang behind me

after five minutes i go over into the stretching room

it feels like a closet except that it has a window looking down the stairs to the pool

they have these big balls

they are about two and a half feet tall and you lie on them and do stretches

i do back extensions

it's quite silly

i just don't want to destroy my back at work, that's all

i do those back extensions and go back down to the changeroom and shower and into the pool

allan is talking to someone and doesn't notice me, but then again it is april that he notices mostly

the lifeguard says hi to me

i say hi back

obviously i'm not quite as invisible as i thought

but earlier in the day i said hi to a friend on the street, the one who owns the restaurant on charles and she just stared straight ahead

i got shy and thought that i wouldn't say hi after the second time, but as she passed me she broke into a distinct smirk

perhaps she was thinking about something funny, but it would have been hard to not notice me, i thought

later i thought i should have stuck my tongue out at her

if she had been trying to ignore me, even as a joke, she would have noticed that

i swim eight lengths and stretch

swim eight more lengths and stretch, etc

under the water i count in hungarian, just to practice

i count the lengths and i count the strokes

under the water my back doesn't hurt

under the water i am graceful

under the water i feel like an animal

yeah, and nobody can talk to me

they found a fish in the amazon river a few years ago after marine biologists went deeper than they ever had before

this fish had no eyes and it was really small

it didn't need eyes because light didn't get that deep

its entire body was covered in tastebuds

when i read that in the paper i told everyone, but no one else thought it was sexy

i thought it was so great

i couldn't imagine anything feeling more alive

and then i stretch

one guy holds a flutterboard between his legs and swims with his arms only

one man showers

two men sit in the lawn chairs and two older men rest on the rail above and talk

"where's your friend

" allen asks from another lane

"she's not well

" "oh, that's too bad

i hope she gets better

" "she will

" "is she just lying in bed

" "no she's not that sick, she's just not well enough to swim

" she very well might be in bed, but i was just trying to keep the conversation simple

he gets out of the pool, by the steps

you can't miss his stormtrooper tatoo that covers most of his back

i do another eight lengths

on my next stretching break he is saying hi to the young woman in the next lane

he comes over

he talks about himself

he moved a glass table into his van

it was a big ordeal

i had my goggles taken last friday, so my eyes are red and bleary

i do eight more and then get out and go to the hot tub

i put my back up against the jets

the woman he was talking to two weeks ago has a book

she's reading a book in the hot tub

it isn't that strange, but it is a public tub and i've never seen anyone do that before and i wonder if she is using the book and her reading as a ploy to avoid talking to allan

he comes to the hot tub and starts talking to her

"really involved in that book, eh

" "yes, i am

" he's kind of cut off after trying to talk to her and he comes over to me

"so do you and april live together

" "no," i say

it's technically true

he tells me about his seven year old daughter who is autistic

"don't worry," he tells me, "she loves me

" he wants to trade massages

i say no

he tells me he hasn't had a massage in years

"it's too bad the government stopped covering massage therapy

" "yeah

you wouldn't believe some of the cuts they've got planned

" he tells me about the latest cuts and they are things i know about

"they are just trying to kill the poor

" i say as i leave

it is an extreme enough statement for him to agree with and then i can walk away freely and i do

in the changeroom another woman is showering

her head has been not too recently shaved

she wears a jade earing

she sits on the shower room floor and washes her feet

i don't have soap today

i just rinse and go dry off

i also don't have moisturiser

i put my clothes on

i am very careful to dry between my toes and to keep my socks dry

i call the guy across the hall from me at home

"hey will

" "hey lora, i haven't seen you in days

" "yeah, i've been over at april's

" "i think that's the longest you've been gone

i've been starting to worry about you

" "yeah, i was just over there

" "yeah, well with all the people being murdered lately, i was really worried something might have happened to you

i guess i haven't seen you since your birthday

you usually drop by, even if it is just to change before going out

" "oh, i'm sorry

no, we're alright

april's been sick and i've just been taking care of her

" "oh, hey i need my extension cord

" "oh damn, i was supposed to get that back to you ages ago

" "yeah, well i kind of wanted to do some stuff in the backyard this week, but i didn't have it

it was my dad's

it's kind of a family heirloom

" "yeah, i just forgot

i'll get my own tomorrow

" "well i don't need it until tuesday now

" "yeah, but if i don't do it immediately, i'll forget

" "okay

" "so i left my keys at work, are you going to be in tonight

" "yeah, i'm watching this series, north and south about the civil war in the states

" "oh yeah, i think i remember when that came out

" "yeah, it's really good

" "well i'm just going to get something to eat and then head home

will you be up till twelve

" "you shouldn't be that long

" "no, but you'll be around

" "yeah

" "okay well i'll see you in a while

" "yeah, see you

" i head out the door and the cool air hits me

a woman stands in the shadows of the stairs, like she's waiting for someone

not ominous, just like she doesn't know she's in the shadows

i pass the bike racks and one of the staff comes out of the gym

there are these low bushes with wide flat leaves that glisten green in the street lamps

they drip drops

the rain has recently stopped

i walk up past the old phone both, past the antique store, past the restaurant and think it would be nice to stop, but i don't

my eyes are bleary and red and the lights shine auras of rainbows and poke rays in my eyes

i pass the health food store and a road closed detour sign

which is funny because even though this road has been recently under construction, building a little park on it, the road has been closed to motorized traffic for maybe a year

i pass another health food store and then there is haley

she is wearing and shiney gold necklace

"hey lora mac

lora mac

i always say lora mac

" we hug

she's on her way to el cocal the restaurant i passed

she wants to go dancing

"sure, i'll come

" we walk back

we walk in and it's dark there

we sit down and michael is playing by himself

keyboards

he nods over

haley finds us better seats and we cross the stage

we sit down

the place is lit by candles and by strings of little lights wound between branches like wicker that hang off the walls and ceiling

and there are also hearts, odd shaped like they were melting or some part of it had been stepped on

people are eating and talking

michael is a little nervous

haley shows me this magazine she's working on

"it's political and hip

a little too hip though

that bugs me

it's gotta be hip

" it's not exactly dancing music

haley asks me to slow dance

but before we do the song is over

she gets us a beer to share

michael anounces that it is the national day to stop police brutality

he sings three songs in honour of the day

haley and i go out for a smoke

i feel rude, but i also don't feel settled enough to pay attention

the guy in the orange work coveralls is outside too

haley introduces us

he is with the band that is after michael

"can we dance to your stuff

" haley asks

"well maybe interpretive dance poses that last for five minutes

" not too encouraging

it's cold so we go in

michael is still singing

haley checks in with the person that was watching our beer

that person is trying to reassure haley that she doesn't really need to worry here

haley goes off to talk to people

i look at the guy in the orange coveralls

i think not very many people wear orange here

people mostly wear black and greens and blues and browns

the orange really sticks out

then haley gets back and i go to the washroom

i weave through the eaters and drinkers

then past the bar and into the washroom

and in the toilet are some stacked chairs and a pail of tiles, a picture of an old man at a table, outside, in paris, 1957 with his bouvier at his feet

the other band starts setting up

they test some of their samples

they sound like the soundtrack to a norman mccleran animation from the sixties

they have an oil drum and snare drums and pots and bongos and other things to hit

megan has a clarinet

the guy in the orange coveralls has a guitar too

they play and the sounds rattle the snares

we're not into it and haley really wants to go dancing

i tell her about leaving my keys at work and about will

i have to get going home

we say goodnight

"bye lora mac

" there is the road closed detour sign again

the sand covered with tarp and the torn up slabs of asphalt and concrete pylons, and rope that isn't rope, but is more of a ribbon, but ribbon doesn't sound like a barrier, like the word rope does, and this is a barrier

a man and a woman dance in the window of a restaurant

they have their little section of the restaurant to themselves and are framed by the little string of lights surounding the window

people are reading the missing persons and concert postings at the bus stop by the park

i guess they are waiting for the bus, but they seem pretty intent on the posters

across the street the van with the skulls drives by

you can see this van everywhere you go

it stops in front of parks and along side streets

all along the dashboard are human skulls

from mexico maybe

the guy has a tan, wears a wool poncho and sells jewelry

yeah he sells other stuff, but i've never talked to him and i don't know any of the story

there is a styrofoam cup hung off the tip of a branch

guitars and a bango play to the red ginhammed tables of another restaurant

across the street a man in pants with stripes down the sides talks to a person eating in the restaurant in the window

it would seem this person doesn't want to be talking to this man, otherwise you would think the person would ask him in to join him

a man ahead of me gets off the phone at the booth and i decide to follow him, but he goes into the bar two doors down so it wasn't a long pursuit

"walk ins welcome" flashes

there is a dirty wool blanket in the garbage can

a fire hydrant comes up to my elbow and a man across the street touches the back of his hat

as we cross the street a man carries his cane as if to help him with momentum, not support

two other younger men and me cross the street with him

one of the younger men is wearing cowboy boots the other sneekers

cars slide by

the old man waits at the corner to cross again

his nose is red

his nose is always red now

there is a paperback inside his newspaper

i always want to know what people are reading, but it is almost midnight and we are just passing

across the way there are some kids

a woman brings a sign in from the restaurant

like i've said before it is darker here, but that way you see the lights better

the cafe is busy

and outside there are dealings

people exchange phone numbers, a cell phone rings

pass something by fingers

eyes focused on face

a slow car passes

people stand outside cafe deux soleil smoking

there is an empty cop car on this side of the street and then a paddy wagon

a tall officer listens to his phone and takes notes

i note him taking notes

two women laugh behind me

a group of four passes me

a couple walks toward me

we can't all fit on the walk and the man follows the woman

they move together as if they were in a small boat

people stand around the corner of the theatre

two walk off

a bicycle rides away

and the group moves

the girl crossing the street stands in the middle of the street

a car stops

she says, "what

" to the guy in the group over on the other sidewalk

she's young, and quiet

maybe she's been insulted

she just stands there and the stopped traffic doesn't honk

crossing the bridge there is a woman and her young child

they have a bag of fast food and the kid scrapes his toy along the rail of the bridge

i think of what would happen if he dropped it

down there

by the train tracks

it is harder to get down there from up here now

during the construction

on the corner people and cars run lights

a bus has broken down

it flashes it's hazzards

the electric poles are tucked in like an odd skier

some people wait for another bus

there is a pair of broken glasses on the newspaper box

both lenses are smashed and the one arm is twisted almost off

one guy leans back against the wall, chews gum and stares

a group of people pass

one kicks a beer bottle

i turn on to my street and it is darker and quieter at once

light jewels the tree

in drops

the tree beside it is dry

there is a cat black and white

it comes up and i crouch down

it slips into my palm as i pet its head

it meows

it is cold

it follows me

i tell it to go home

there is another bejeweled tree and again beside it a dry one

the tree with the branches hanging down, like it is a hand about to pick up a car or a person walking by, is dry

there is a third bejeweled tree and something is burning like they are accidentally burning something they shouldn't be



the street seems really blue after the yellow warm light of vanessa's and anita's kitchen

it's not too late, probably around eight, eight-thirty and i'm just walking east on cordova

here the street is really busy, really fast

i think the cars might have syncopated lights in this part of town, so that if you are going the speed limit you won't have to stop

this creates waves of traffic noise and silence

the street turns from houses beside houses to warehouses that are almost one big building with different lit signs and painting on the fronts

i come to the corner of a brown brick building and a small woman is standing there

i say hi and she says, "how are you doing tonight

" i say, "good, you

" "yeah, good," she says

"have a good night i say," she says so too

and there is something really familiar more in the way we talk than in how she looks, but when i'm about half way down the block, i realise that despite the make up i do recognise her

she was the woman at the memorial march that told me about her grandma and asked me if i knew how to sing the song they were singing and kind of insulted the man behind us

it seems like a strange coincidence to cross paths and to have spent a few minutes talking just a week or so ago

but it's not that strange

there are some people that i've never met that i see about once a week or so

there is one old man who i've seen in every part of the city walking with his braids trailing over his knapsack

and if he is an observer, which i suppose he is, because why else would you walk all over the place, if he is an observer then it would be very interesting to talk to him

there is a ulok mini storage sign lit up

this block is very isolated, because the fast part of the street has veered off to powell street

there are lots of lights from the warehouse though and a silo beside this warehouse there are tracks to cross just ahead and barbed wire to my right

a sign on the corner of the next block says, "area monitored by john watch"

there are two video cameras one pointing west the other pointing north

there is no one waiting on this corner

just a block over i found a dog a few years ago

i was on my bike, it was in the day, and the dog was just walking on the street

it could have got run over

a car broke really hard and missed it and i shoed it off the road

i started talking with it and then it started to walk and it led me to this glass repair shop

i went in and asked if their dog was loose, because it was outside and it had been running along the street

i noticed the dog bed and felt better and the people there didn't even know she had gone off, but were really glad that i'd come back with her

but i'm not really comfortable down here, now

most of the cars passing by are cruising, especially obvious is this grey van, and while with my brown tuque people probably aren't thinking i'm working, you can never tell, i've been cruised in overalls before

a billboard reads "buy sanity

" there is a yellow glow to the moon

and after i've crossed the tracks train bells go off

and then comes the train itself and the crossing bells and the train's own bells are going off in a kind of music with the thunderous shushsshing of the trains movements

the crossing bells ting fast and the train bell clangs laboriously

i've turned up glen and am hanging off the rail

the train isn't right underneath me, but it is below

between us is the overgrown hill of brown grasses and all kinds of junk you shouldn't walk through without boots

there is the smell of chicken feed and that same van goes cruising by slowly

there isn't much open here at this time of night so it doesn't feel that much safer, but there are more cars

i'm back on hastings and making my way toward commercial coming to the place where subway used to be

i don't have fond memories of that place so it's fine that it's all boarded up with show posters glued all over it

it seems like a pretty tacky place in which to cry about someone who doesn't really give a shit about you, but at the time it seemed like that was the only thing i could do

it would be okay if places i liked were boarded up and written on too, some of them are, but somehow this seems like karma

but if every place i ever cried over someone was boarded up it would be a way more desolate city

i can think of two bars that closed, but the naam is still open and so is reno's on main and broadway and marika neni is still working, so the budapest is still open too

i cross clark and the port cranes loom in the dark from the north

to the south are the broadway kind of lights for house of steak family restaurant

it's not so really broadway, or even close to honest ed's, but it's more showy than utilitarian

a cab passes with it's lights on, but i have two dollars and it would be a ten dollar fare

i cross to the south side of hastings and look up the hill toward burnaby

the string of street lamps climbing up the hill and down looks like the blip on a heart monitor

i pass another woman in a really great leather jacket and then some guy in a tartan kilt, with the slippers and the sporin is yelling at someone outside the waldorf, by the cold beer and wine store

he stops yelling and gets into his suv and drives off

i pass a man who comes into the co-op and i say hi, but he just looks at me and scowls

i must say that by this point i'm really tired

i want to be home

and it is cold and i'm really not sure if i'm looking at anything that anyone else might think is remotely interesting, but with every step there are different combinations of lights

canadian tire is bright

after i pass it the street seems darker

there is no one in the friendship centre and the place that sells casters wholesale is dead too, but there is a meeting going on in the urban native youth centre, everyone is sitting in a circle, on chairs and i pass by

the organic market is empty

the bins don't have any vegetables because the market is only open on saturdays

and then is the lot where another gas station used to be

you can't see the rubble, because of the screens

so i don't know if it is rubble that's behind there, but i think so

i turn the corner on to commercial and it still seems so far

it is

it is probably two miles home

there is a long sliver of a cloud above the moon

really long

there is another red hydrant with a blue top and in the dark the colours are completely different than they were in the bright bright sun of the day

here the stucco is coming off the wall like a map

a dog barks

a dog barks from inside a car

a block later i catch the moon again

the cloud holds the moon like it is a palm a long long palm

i am almost blind by my tiredness, but there are no buses and then a bus passes

i see the stores, but i don't look in them until i come to a candlit restaurant and from being bleary-eyed it looks so pretty and all the lights dance

i keep going, past the park, and then michael is sitting outside the coffee bar and i wave, and he waves back and if i could stop it would be nice to stop and talk to him, but i don't want to sit down

someone runs down the street and into a sports bar and sits

a woman eats her dinner from a syrofoam box walking down the street

someone bumps into me

"sorry," i say

"tsokay

" it is all up hill to first avenue and all downhill from there

the lights are fewer and farther between coming down the hill and most of the restaurants aren't as sheesh and most of them are closed

there are some kids who have taken over the sidewalk and they give me attitude as i pass through them

other people pass things back and forth

so i stop writing

i pass the legion hall

then as i'm coming to the corner store at grandview i see someone ahead

then i see it's vanessa walking with someone and then i see it's anita

we laugh when we get closer

"did you walk

" "yeah

" "i thought you would have taken the bus

" "yeah, i walked

" anita goes in to get some money

vanessa goes in soon after, because it's too cold out

i pass granview, pass the cut pass eighth and pass broadway

i check the sidewalk and no one has even tried to clean the blood splats from the morning

they are there, as distinct in shape as they were then, but now at night and after touching oxygen for twelve hours they seem brown



i am waiting for my sweety at the radio station

i have her lunch and i'm sitting in a metal chair

the ones that pile about seven high

people say hi to me and other people carry on business around the table i'm sitting at

i'm tired and it's really good to sit

some famous blues woman is singing a song and then there is some more dance music, celtic like

i can still see hastings from up here

hastings and columbia

i have been thinking about missing and forgetting people looking out at the street i have just come from

i have been thinking about this looking at all the faces since i came out of the alleys

i am listening to dance music with a hard chair under my ass and the ink, now warming from being inside is flowing and writing darker

there are six lanes of cars on hastings

i am looking at people's hands as i wait

almost everyone is holding something

it's really a big part of how you move i think, what's in your hands

though it's not the only think to affect your movements

a cane, a bag of cans, a hat, hands in pockets, fingers in pockets, thermos in hand, kid's hand in adult's hand, bag in hand, handlebars in hands, head in hands, pockets, gloves

presumably steering wheels, but i can't see that

pockets, motor bike clutch, swinging air, holding back hair in ponytail

knapsack strap

someone once told me you should never put your hands in your pockets, someone could push you over

i can't even remember who it was, but they were older and though i thought they were very stupid, i remember being horrified

it was a disturbing thought to think that people were out to tip you over

now watching people walking with hands in their pockets i think the risk is nil

most people just have three quarters of their fingers in their pockets, they'd be able to pull them out

my sweety comes and says hi

she takes me into her office and asks me to dance

i lead, she's been teaching me to jive

her room is small and so i can't really turn her

and i lose my stepping

it is just nice to hold her

i use the washroom and say goodbye

as i leave people are dealing with a leak in her office

they are under one of the residential hotels and someone is always overflowing the bath and it ends up in april's office

i go down the street to the women's centre, a pigeon flies up in front of me, a man's fingers wrap around each other behind his back, and go in

i am thinking that i will look for agnes who works here, but i don't know who to ask and really i want to sit a bit longer before i get moving

so i keep watching people's hands

fingers touch the table, then tap the table noiselessly

a few hold coffee mugs, one holds a phone receiver

one carries garbage bags and there is the smell of cleaning solvent

"i'm looking for charlie

" "she's not here right now

" "i saw your sister in here today too for just a couple of seconds

" "are you here for group

" "it's healing circle tonight

" "i kept phoning here

" "i think they're gone

" "some boxes down there with clothes and wrapping paper

" someone's hands scratch their head

"that has yet to be seen

" ring ring ring, the phone goes

a sign reads, serena abbotsway (riviera) memorial service

it is tonight

"i seen charlie in here earlier

" "





young native girl

" "she's all over the place

" "no, but charlie

" "i did see her here earlier today

" "i'll leave a message

" "and molly

i don't see molly

" "they thought i took that girl teresa





tall dark one

" "yeah," someone says, sympathetic

"hey you never know, you really never know

" the woman closest to me doesn't touch her coffee mug

she is the one whose fingertips touch the table

the coffee mug in front of her is a church coffee mug

in the different churches i went to as a child they all would get these coffee mugs

ceramic with cream coloured glaze and a brown illustration of that particular church with the name in a banner above and gold rimmed

i can't read what the name of the church is

her hair is straight and black and grey

a top layer of the hair is tied back, the rest lies straight

that tapping she was doing i could describe for hours

this isn't an institution, but it is the kind of tapping you do when you are in an institution, when the surfaces you are touching aren't a friend's or your own and your hands seem to light down comfortably, and lift off not comfortable enough to settle as if the surfaces are a few degrees too hot

it is also something about having too much time all of a sudden and trying to calm the speediness left over from real life

it is also about having something safe to touch, because it is unlikely that a table or the arm of a chair is going to turn on you

the touch is gentle, but careful

"this is more like a support group," some woman says explaining the group she facilitates

her voice is mildly solicitous

ring

cough, cough, cough, cough

i look at the magazines and wonder if there is anything i want to read

the doorbell goes, someone comes in

"hey, yr looking a lot better

" "feeling a lot better

" they laugh

i leave knowing i could use more time to rest

the sun lights the tops of the buildings, but they are too tall to let sun down to the street

a car rumbles down cordova

there are many other cars, but it rumbles and my ears follow it, where the other cars just slip by

i turn on main street and pass the old lady's shop with the hundreds and hundreds of origami mobiles

it is closed

i go to the needle exchange to get some lube

i would feel dumb just asking for lube and so i ask for lube and condoms, but i've got plenty of condoms

it's like going into a cage because all the windows are grated and it is so small

i continue to watch people's hands

one woman is pulling something out of her purse, another person is pulling something out of his back pocket, someone holds a cellphone, someone holds a plastic bag, someone else holds a plastic bag

someone holds a cigarette, a brief case, some young girl holds a sweater to her chest as if she's hiding it

someone dangles keys

a string of people walk by with their hands in their pockets

and then a man has his arms around the shoulders of the woman he's with and her arm is holding his shoulder too even though he is a bit taller than her

someone is sitting on a step holding his wrist, another person holds a bag strap

people cross hastings holding lighters like rosaries

then at the corner on main almost everyone holds bus tickets

it is time to go home and lots of people are waiting

i walk down to pender one man holds a cell phone to his ear

one man touches the stubble on his face

a young girl fiddles with her wrist cuffs

i need to eat something soon so i go down to the new town bakery on pender and get some red bean and barbeque pork buns

inside it is warm and a woman beside me is heavily made up in pink tones, the kind that have something blue about them

she is blonde

i look at the piles of boxes folded and ready to fill

there are other snacks and cigarettes and a small bulletin board with old phone messages on it

the radio plays, "you've lost that loving feeling

" i notice the song only after i'm outside again and walking back up the street

the woman that was beside me with the makeup is standing in the laneway with crumbs around her mouth holding the last piece of her turnover

a man bites his fingers

everything is touched orange by the sun

a woman looks up, hands on hips

people's faces are turned red by the sun

i'm headed to tossi and co

to see if i can see anything

i'm wanting to know about the old man about his place, if it will still be there, if he will

but i have missed the store

it is here but it is closed

at least there is no more sign about renovations and there doesn't seem to be too many changes from what i can see from the street

if someone had taken over the store you would think there would be changes, but the signs in english and cantonese are still in the windows and the arrow to the doorbell and the sign of the irregular hours

"sunday closed - church time

" i walk back to keefer

a woman is holding her scarf and another woman is pulling the hair that has blown into her mouth

i go into a store to get an apple

the man at the front preparing the vegetables is ripping at his knuckle

there are red price tags stuck the floor and a few pistasio shells

the man before me in line has a bag of guy lan

the woman behind me asks the cashier, "how much is this

" "ninety-nine cents





each," the cashier says

but the woman behind me drops the guy lan and picks it up

i get my apple and head toward gore

a young woman takes off her apron as she crosses the street

all along the street there is the smell of dried fishes and fungus

inside a shop on gore a man holds a comb and a shaver and cuts another man's hair

there are lots of things to see on hastings, it is not dark yet, but close

one man has bed legs he is carrying on his shoulder, a young man has a mask, but i can't really see it

a girl leans on the corner holding something protectively out of view

her hair is long and covers most of her face

there are the purple squares in the side walk

they are cracked, but a pretty colour

worn glass i guess

there was probably a building there that once warranted a glass walkway

there is a pile of dog shit and the footprints of the person that stepped in it

and then at jackson the gas station is gone and there is a yard of rubble

there is a puddle where you used to be able to get snacks and all sorts of garbage and overturned cement

there is the cinnamon smell of men's cologne and a woman carries her oxygen in a shopping buggy and inside the buggy is also her little curly-haired dog sticking his paws up the front so he can see everything

"nice dog

" i say and smile

she smiles back

i am on my way to vanessa's, but i don't remember her address

i pass a slow walker and a fast one with her fists clenched

some graffiti says, property is theft

it reminds me of a joke a middle aged man once told me

why do anarchists drink herbal tea

because proper tea is theft

i think he made that up on the spur of the moment

i looked at him as if he was weird, he didn't seem to be trying to impress me, but i didn't know why he'd told me that joke

in a puddle there are drowned pudding cups and banana boxes

someone asks me for the time

i guess

"i think it's five-thirty

" i call vanessa and get the voice mail, i walk down cordova near princess and pass the union gospel mission

there are purple and blue clouds by burnaby mountain and snow on lion's peaks

four guys line up at the union gospel mission and a woman who must be cold holds her bag

she asks me for a smoke

there are a pair of shoes on a patch of grass

they are purple dress slippers

i walk back to the phone on hastings and no answer

i'm cold and hungry so i sit on the sidewalk and eat a barbeque pork bun

it is good to relax and have a bite

it is lessening that scratchy feeling that my brain has

i get up and i'm out of quarters so i go to the laundry mat and get some more

vanessa is home and i write down the address

i walk exactly the same way back

the same four guys are waiting by the mission, but now there are more

i pass the slippers

i pull back the gate and walk through the side of the house to the back house

i come up to the house and wonder how i will socialise

sometimes i'm not very good at it especially when i've been walking around all day noticing things

inside anita is watching a movie

i didn't know she lived here and i hope that she doesn't mind me being here

her dog comes up on my lap and licks my face

she's part chihuahua and she has bad breath

but i'm happy to cuddle with her until she bites my teeth

our teeth clink together and so i get her to settle down

someone is cooking in the kitchen and vanessa's hair is big and blonde

my hands feel like stumps so it's good to pet the dog and get some feeling back into them

jen comes in and tells us about her project

she's organising a queer art show

i think about submitting one of my stories and reading it, but i don't know if it would be queer enough

it would probably depend on what i was wearing

one of their roommates, the one that is cooking, is moving out and they have to decide whether to give their notice or try to find another roommate

maybe that's why anita is moody, but she's often moody and it doesn't stop me from liking her

vanessa and i talk while lucass cooks

i tell her how april is doing

she tells me some rumour about a friend whose sister busted out of a psyche ward and is now living with him

i just don't have enough details about what happened so it nags at me

and vanessa shows me the map of her trip

anita and her are going to arizona through canada, through montreal, through new york, down the coast and over through some southern states

anita has to finish school first though

"they're letting you back in that state

" i say

but i kind of take it back, because i don't want to be mean

jen asks if she can play downstairs

she complains about her wrist and then goes down to the basement

we go down then and vanessa and jen play the guitars

they sound really good for a while and i kind of get into just listening

it is cold down here and this is where lucas the roommate who is moving out lives, so i can see why it will be hard to find another roommate

it is just a cement basement with beams and wool blankets to separate lucas's room from the drums and sound equipment

for the first time since i left my house my head kind of relaxes and the music gets in

anita comes down and plays bass, but vanessa doesn't notice her at first and anita says, "i can't see what you're doing

" and vanessa turns around to face anita

the music falls apart after a while and then vanessa gets hungry and we go upstairs for dinner

vanessa puts together a salad

i look at the wainscotting, the rails of the staircase and the beer cans

lucas has some advice

"never drink this whisky

" she doesn't know the name so she goes to get the bottle

"black velvet

" okay, i think

she is full of advice, but it bugs me because it's mostly stuff i know

she's younger and is speaking like she has some authority over me

i think about how joan called me a young whipersnapper of a dyke ten years ago and i think i was probably just this obnoxious

we have salad and stew, although i would call it soup, with rice

i eat and tell stories with blaine

anita comes back up and starts to tell us about condos they built on her last job

"they but them on garbage land fills and while they should have taken two years they went up in forty weeks

we just scraped by on all the 'spects

and they all get bought before they're even finished

" we talk about the sinking, the leaking and the earthquake damage

then lucas is talking about her job, how next week they will have to stop feeding four hundred people with hiv once a week

she tells me that there is a glut of cheep heroine coming

a result of the war on terrorism

i am sort of interested in how this is a result of that war on terrorism

i can speculate and do, but i'm still interested in what she might say, but she's set it up so i have to ask so i say yeah, like i know all about it

they are debating whether to go out for a beer vanessa and anita

anita wants to get the house thing sorted out and gets snappy

i try to get out of the way, it is an automatic response, there is no reason to need to get out of the way and anita rubs my shoulders as i pass and says she doesn't need to take it so seriously

we talk about how she got to be here because the last time i really hung out with her she was getting ready to move with her girl to nelson and i was painting her feet

they are still together, but she couldn't do it

all her stuff was moved there, but she couldn't leave vancouver

i like getting to the point where i can talk with anita, because she's really interesting, but i never know what to say on a casual level with her

i think it is getting late and i'm tired

vanessa and i have a smoke and a tea and then i pick up my bag and say goodnight



the sun is out and the sky is a great blue colour almost baby blue around the mountains to the north

earlier in the day my sweety and i were going for breakfast and two cop cars were parked outside of the bank on the southwest corner of commercial and broadway

there was an ambulance parked around the corner on broadway and as we passed, it drove off slowly

a woman stood around looking, it seemed, for something and it was hard to tell if she was really involved

a man held tissue on his chin or maybe his mouth and there were two splats of blood on the sidewalk (one not so far from him) that seemed a spray of blood drops and the other a little more concentrated

i'm wondering, while we are walking, what happened

it has happened and is being taken care of, but it seems like there was a fight

one person bled more profusely and was taken to the hospital the other stood standing, but had a few drops knocked out of his mouth

but anything could have happened

we talk about unrelated things and eat a hurried breakfast

this morning i can't stomach my eggs, so i leave them aside

for some reason i look to the table by the window

i think that they were looking at us at least the younger woman and it is not like i take a mental note, it is just a tag like a string wrapped around your finger so you won't forget

and though i forget all about them i am slightly aware of the tones of their conversation and the directions of their glances

april has to run off to work and i finish my orange juice

i have stabbed my two pieces of toast to dramatise a point during our conversation, but they haven't been soiled and i eat one

i get change to call ali, but he is moving things and can't meet for coffee

i go down the drive to to hand in my requests for vacation times at work

while there i buy coffee and tumeric

i cycle slowly back down the drive

i go into the bookstore and look at some poetry: catherine owen and "the cinnamon peeler"

i cycle home, park my bike outside and go into make myself some coffee

i want to go for a walk and i want to hide in my house and after an hour of hiding the walk wins out

i phone my sweety who has forgotten her lunch and tell her i will see her in about an hour

i head north down woodland

the thing about spring is that all the garbage is out

some how it's easier to ignore when it's dull and grey

but today it's out, disintigrating or staying, but left over

tissue box, dried pulp of coffee cups, whole coffee cups, cigarette packs, chip wrappers, candy wrappers, faded and bright

there is sun sun sun

and everything is lit

the houses here are painted nice colours i think

purples and blues, yellows and greens

some of the bushes are sprouting green saplings

there is a red fire hydrant and it is red red red

and it has a blue top that is just blue, bright blue, but it isn't singing itself

there is a green lamp post and it's a deep green and a gas hole spray painted yellow on the sidewalk

the sun runs grated through the fence on the sidewalk over the bridge

down below the skytrain construction is coming along

the ditch unfreezing

quick sunlight slivers between the cars of the skytrain's passing shadows

and overhead it whispers its scream

my shadow is slightly longer than i am tall and i can see the shadow of the woman behind me

the fence shadows blur against the grass as i pass the school

"she's handing out candy

evan, she's handing out candy

she's handing out candy to everybody

" "what kind

" "never mind

" the one kid was quite excited, but was disappointed when he couldn't interest evan

i'm just supposing

a rollerblader slips down the hill

there is a shopping cart in front of csaba's building

in the next block there are flies in the greenest shade

the sign reads 2nd and woodland muster point gas operations

a real estate sign reads b

c gas relocating 115' x 122' lot, zoned rm-4

there are left over skids, poles, yellow and black slanted striped barriers

a temporary stop sign

it's for sale

there are people with their kids at the park

one woman with a young kid on the playground

two young women with an older man and a stroller at the picnic table

the one woman is wearing a t-shirt, but it is not that warm

at first avenue the cars are lining up the hill

across the street there has been some meticulous weeding and raking

there is a pile of leaves and vines and shears, a fork and a trowel lie beside it

a clear bag in a stand holds the remnants of dandelion leaves and stray holly bush upshoots

the ground is black under the bushes, rich and scraped at perfect right angles to the sidewalk

across the street is anne and her dog, wilder

she asks me if i'm doing my project

i say yes

but it makes it uncomfortable to talk

maybe that is not what makes it uncomfortable to talk, maybe it wasn't uncomfortable, but we don't talk too much

she is sick and turns back home

there are kids young and older coming home

one kid is holding his mother's arm

his head is down

there is a family of women led by a young girl and her carriage

i've been looking at the mountains and they don't have much snow left on them

but i am up pretty high when there is a break in the houses and i get a huge view of the city

it is like this part of the city fell apart from the noise

here there are more trees and less cars

there are wonderful porches with junk and stuff in the shade

the back of a car seat as a couch, a smoking stand, a school chair, crutches, recycling bins, two plastic covered appliances, a stove and a dryer

it is hard to say how the neighbourhoods change

within one block you can have condo-style co-ops and one hundred year old houses that are on their last legs, and one hundred year old houses that have been kept up and one hundred year old houses that have been gutted, rebuilt and sold for fortunes

a woman i've seen in the food co-op hacks away with shears at the brambles

one boy walks by with a pop

her dog stares at me

people are running around the track

and a lab chases a ball, barking until the guy throws it

apartments and houses, houses and apartments

on maclean, mildred's owner cycles by

she is one of my favourite dogs

to my right is a cement wall, bushes higher up and higher still a fence

sun and houses to my left and sun and sun and sun and sun and sun

there are little mosaics in the cement roundabouts, swirls and circles made of triangles and other polygons

there is a sewer grate and untended grasses

a car of laughing girls passes me

a sprite can lies there

i see sewer grates everywhere as i walk: in bushes, on the road

a kid yells from one of the houses

most things are illuminated today

not from within, but there is a light coming from the surface colours of things

this is of course because of the sun

but the building on the corner is just glaring, too awfully yellow to even look at properly

the trailers say "master contract services fire and flood restoration

one reads john 3:16 the other luke 11:10

their yellow van has no bible quotes on it and i think is attempting to match the yellow stucco warehouse

there are two drinking boxes on the ground, grape and raspberry

they are bright, everything is bright

beside the yellow warehouse is a parking lot of school buses

there is a fence and three lines of barbed wire and that spiraled slash wire

i start to smell the sea, but i know it is just the fish processing, kiku fisheries

there is a tank labled carbon dioxide and the ravens are eating out of the garbage

a man in a yellow apron dumps garbage and flattens boxes

beside that, down the lane is a little lot with cement bricks coved by tarp and a rusty fence painted gold

between the signs for the parking spaces of liu and j

w

is a steaming pipe

heat is coming off clark street, and as i get closer, noise

i see the mountains losing snow and the sun shimmers from the white broken lines on the road

sun points at me, pokes me in the eye, from mirrors and windows and corners of cars

i walk over the orange speed bump and that is where it feels like i am crossing over into my old neighbourhood

a man is standing in the door of the juice factory where you can't get free expired juice anymore

across the street beside me is organised stuff

pylons, scaffolding, tanks, ladders

on this side of the fence is a pop cup, a rusted nearly flattened oil drum, packing styrofoam and a place that may not be in operation anymore, villa woodcraft

the sign is faded and the outside is covered in mould and rust

the graffiti says, lick my balls

on the next lot is pebbles and gravel and overgrown sheds and vines and thickets bursting green out of the windows

pushed out by the collapsing patched roof

some old cars and blue tarp covering and the frayed threads of blue tarp covering on the ground with the brown grass and the green weeds and the pebbles and the chapstick and a take out sushi container

the next lot is flat not a lot of junk

in the middle is a bicycle tire and a broken picture

the plot is gravel with blackberry vines snaking through the red and blonde grasses

there is another woman i know from the co-op cycling by

she wears a hockey helmet on her head

another sushi container holds water

and i cross the creosote smell and the silver-surfaced train tracks

there is an old nest in a tree

a young woman sneers as she rides by on her bike

it is cold enough to sneer

on the next corner it says van-rich demolition and excavation ltd

they are building houses on venables

a dry leaf shuffles behind me

i turn, startled, and it is just a dry leaf shuffling behind me

here the houses are all different too

some are boarded and patched, some are artfully or professionally renovated

a sign reads dog in yard

i know those dogs, i used to visit chris and his dogs

from the sidewalk a bird flies up

some houses have only perfect perpendicular lines

some are sinking at angles into the ground

a man holds his head in the window above

he is watching the man across the street running with the dog

i look away from the old man looking, not because he is not a beautiful old man, perhaps upset looking, but calm

i think, watchers don't stare at each other

i have caught my glimpse of him

there are purple and orange crocuses in the ground grass

bet is vacuuming something on my old porch, spring cleaning

i see a lighter on the ground i don't miss the old house

i stayed there long enough

yee, the old man beside us died and the old woman with the gold teeth who would talk to me about the weather or about my attempts at gardening died too

neither of us spoke, that old woman or i, we just pointed and nodded and smiled

i decide to go to scout and sarah's

i haven't seen them in years

but i ring their bell and they are not home

the road reads three cool americans, let's find the rest

but you can still tell it used to say, three dead americans lets kill the rest

this was put down and ammended when nato was bombing yugoslavia

there is some quilting cloth, two plaid shirts and a peach colour towel hanging from a line on the next street

beware of dog

on the next block there is a small patch of sloped earth with purple kale and moss and two willing annuals, vines and dead perennials

on the other side of the steps is some big purple crocuses in the shade and a noodle soup wrapper

there is a park across the street and a school a block away

kids like to eat the crunchy noodles, sprinkling the dried onions, spices and monosodium glutamate on them as a snack

a black and white cat passes me and sits on the steps

a man stands in the doorway of the apartment building

i pass him

i am close, but he does not catch my eye when i nod to him

the shed across the way says cops in bleeding spray paint

in marker it says, what said the slut

i don't know what this means

it means people question

it means people say things, it means there are sluts, it means to be a slut is to be the slut

but that brings me no closer to the intent

it is like everything else i call into view, i pass it

and now beside me is the hill to the fence of that school i was saying was a block away and the roots of the trees cut through the grass like visible fault lines

lilly in the valley grow from the bases of the trees

there is a cedar bough and though i need a cedar bough for my closet i leave it, i can't carry it

there are bird houses on the corner at pender and those feather flag reeds

these are enclosed porches and one has grates on the windows and about twenty jade plants inside

i smell cleaning solvent and pass a house with an open porch

the porch is shiney wet and clean

i turn on to the laneway before hastings

there is chicken wire and then barbed wire closing off the small space between the house and the road, maybe protecting the miriad of wires coming into the house

beware of dog it says again on the other side of the lane

please don't litter here

thank you

it says on the shed

it smells like breakfast

there are long-dried paint spills on the asphalt

people are taking a break behind 666

that's the welfare office and the words "dark hair" reach me

there are sheds, barns, garages, tags, moss

one shed is stripped

there are two houses with tar-backed bricklike siding and deep tire tracks in the thick black ready earth of the backyard

there is a cracked walk going up to the slanted stairs and wires and poles and yellow city painted numbers on the poles and wires and poles and wires and poles for a mile i can see wires and poles

like looking through a portal

a satelite dish rests on a crumbling shed

and next door beds tilled in the fall look like you want to get your hands in them and plant

beside me wood and stucco and then a slat between the garage door

there are chopped logs, big ones in the garage and the door on the other side of the garage is open

i worry about peering, it is not only rude, but inside one might be tempted to poke an intruding eye

in the yard beyond the open door is a house, and in that yard are two aluminium buckets with grass growing out of them

a man watches me from behind, unhanging his clothes from the line on his balcony

there is a matress and dry rice noodles sprinkled about

rusted paint can, bottles, car parts and a spruce branch

the wall says listen to your heart

in front of the wall, in front of the message is a foam matress and a ripped livingroom chair

on the other side is a underground garage with barbed wire and spiral slice wire

the frame on the licence plate of the car says, another happy honda

and i notice the light is getting dustier

the glass in the lane twinkles

here i am passing one of the spots a woman was found murdered

but i am unaware

i only notice where i am, the bricks blurring by

i notice where i have been half a block later

that that was one of the spots

it is a place like any other where you can walk by unaware

a man carries his garbage bag purposefully shifting it, the weight of it, around the centre of his gravity

his lips grip his cigarette

a bald man in a lumber jacket stands up there in front of me

as i get closer he walks to the truck another man is working on

the green truck says tossi and co

on the side

that is where i used to get cheese

an italian grocer in chinatown and the man, a proud grandpa, spoke chinese to some of the customers

he had told his father he would keep the place open as long as he could and this truck here makes me wonder if he is still around

the place was closed for renovations a year ago, and that sometimes means something else besides renovations

i mean to check seeing as i'm about five blocks away

a woman with grocery bags walks by looking at the doors of sheds

the clip of her shoes and her interested stare make you think they are store windows these garage doors

a thin girl walks ahead

we are getting to the markets

a young man runs into the alley

there are the sea smells of fish again

and birds

in the laneway after crossing gore street, two people are drinking and watching the starlings

they are delighted with the starlings

today is a day to be delighted with birds

there are garbage smells, but it is too cold for them to be rancid

this is not a populated lane

people are here, but they look at you scared in these lanes

there is a young girl waiting by a car

there is rank piss and a man sitting in an suv

but somehow there are no less people and it is isolated

i turn onto hastings and into a rush of thunder of buses and cars and the smiles and sneers of faces and the wind is blowing

it is a windy day, but i haven't noticed in the lanes

people people people

there is a mosaic on the corner and two women walk arm in arm as we pass on the corner

there is a woman in sunglasses, there is a man in sunglasses there is a woman with a patch over her eyes and her hands are palms up to the sky and she is looking up

in the next lane is a thread bare matress and someone who doesn't want me looking at him

i look away

smoke comes off of a man's cigarette

it lightly billows

it billows because of the wind, but it is a light billow because it is not too cold a temperature

there is just a little stringiness to the cloud that curls by his left ear and is gone

my thoughts have become disjointed by the noise and sun

with every person there are so many purposes and changing reasons

i smell laundry smell

i love laundry smell and this is where i am going to drop off my sweety's lunch



maggie puts on the hockey game on the radio

i'm filling up the tea shelf with overstock teas and the new delivery

instantly we are all hockey fans

it's like wearing a blindfold and so you can't really move

"what's happening

" "who scored

" "it's tied

" "canada scored

" "yeah





" there is hardly anyone in the store, more employees than customers, and almost everyone is staring at the radio

"i can't stand it," someone pulls her hair

sonia says, "i don't know the rules

" i draw a hockey rink in the air and cup my hands for the goals and describe offense and defense and goalies

but i really don't know much

it's a beautiful day and i go outside to get some sun on my first break

i ask kirt if he wants to go to joe's for a coffee

he's waiting for some lady

i walk up the street to joe's cafe

it's packed, wall to wall

there are about five more minutes left in the game

i know about half the people in the cafe, by sight at least

canada gets another goal

i'm one of the johnny come lately hockey fans, and i don't pretend to know anything about the game

but if i was a real hockey fan i could tell you who scored the last goal

the whole place goes up

i order a short espresso and watch the last few seconds

"10, 9, 8





" everyone cheers

everyone is happy

people whose faces i have never seen smiles on are smiling

the littlest kids are happy that everyone else is happy

people slap each other and nod as they leave

some stick around and already the discussion of the game is starting

yeah and people are crying

i walk out in the sun and go back to work

"what's the score

" someone yells out from his van

"we won

" someone else yells back

so through the whole day people are talking about the game

"are you a hockey fan

" "for today

" "too bad you had to miss the game

" "i didn't miss a thing we had the game on the radio and i caught the last few minutes down at joe's

" "ever exciting

" "yeah

" we are all so fucking proud and we're proud of ourselves

like we played the game or something

a little girl who always tries to scare me comes into the store, but she doesn't see me so i boo her first

"did you watch the hockey game

" "yes, we saw it at the coffee place

" "at joe's

" "yes

" "did you like the game

" "yes, everyone wanted to win

" "yes everyone wanted to win, but we won

we beat the americans

it's a lot of fun out there, eh

" "yes, everyone is having fun

" people are driving up and down the drive waving their flags, hanging out of cars and other vehicles and honking and cheering

i go to the back to get some juices for the front

"i heard you warping that young child's mind," says jason

"those evil american bastards, they should be locked up in camps

never knew you were the nationalist type lora

" he punches my arm, you see he is an american, i punch back

"i'm not nearly as bad as zoltan," i reply

and again my mouth speaks before my brain

zoltan was probably the first hungarian i knew, zoltan fekete

i remember his last name later while thinking about the story i'm just telling jason and roisin

we were lifeguards and swim instructors in north york

this was in my late teens

before glastnos, before paristroika, before the wall came down

i think i thought he was russian then, but zoltan fekete, there is no mistaking that name for anything but hungarian

fekete means black in hungarian, but instead of pronouncing the e at the end we left it off, much the way one of my uncles used to say naked, "neket," "feket

" i was teaching at leslie pool one saturday, just filling in for someone else's shift and i look over and zoltan is playing a game with the little kids, about five or six years old and they all have these little sponges that we have at the pool and they all have these paint brushes and other sticks and they are all stabbing the sponges and zoltan is getting them to say, "die commie die

" the kids don't seem to love it, but they don't seem to mind it either, it is just a fun thing, i couldn't tell you they got fanatical over it, but zoltan seemed to

later i told him, "that's brainwashing, what you did with those kids

" "you really can't know anything about what it's like there

you would not like it to be like that here," he says

he is not as dismissive as i thought he would be

in retrospect it is surprising he wasn't more condescending

so i tone it down with the damn patriotism

outside someone has their flag upside down waving out the window of the car

it is big

an upside down canadian flag is a symbol of native resistance, but they're still proud

or else maybe they didn't notice upside down, but it's a big flag

roisin and i walk up the drive for our lunch break

people are still honking, people are having a party all up the street

we walk past havana and look out for abandoned beers

toward grant we start hearing the drums

there are drums and flags and painted faces and cheering and hollering and hand slapping and honking

roisin is screaming and practically skipping up the street

we hang there for a while

i see some friends of mine

they're having a drunken good time

we walk back and at havana there are two pints, or two half pints

i grab them for roisin and me and some guy sits down and pretends they're his

"hey, those are mine

" "they are not

" "yes they are

" he is really mad

i put them down and say to him, "you reeeeeallly need to lighten up

" roisin and i go back

andy says smirking, "yeah this is really pathetic, they think they have something in common, just because they watched the same tv show

" "can't you just revel in the moment

" jen replies

the day sails by, the details are wiped out by the euphoric feeling of pride and celebration

and i think this is what it feels like to like people

later you can still hear honking sporatically, but people are nestled into their pubs, drinking and talking and roisin and maggie and i walk home

a picture of the team in the window of the hardware store says, "revenge

" sean's car is out front with a huge flag on it

inside at adeena and irv's place everyone is talking about the game

most of it is above my head

i don't have a hockey encylopedia in my brain

but some how the talk comes back around to the farm

"piggie's farm they called it

a friend of mine in the "industry," went there

he was a pimp, that's what i mean

people have been trying to get them to investigate that place for fifteen years

blank blank knew about it when he was mayor of vancouver

i should really dig up some of those old articles about it from back then

all kinds of shit happened there

it's really quite sick, no body cared, just because they were prostitutes

" the talk carries on to politics back to hockey, back to women's hockey and the rest of the olympics, but not back to the farm



this collage is a continuation of yesterday's writing

i go looking for shelley in the museum

i come out and she's there reading her book

i ask her what she is reading

something about the senses

"i like smells because i am a dog," i say

sometimes i feel like a lunatic

i suppose what i mean by that is that sometimes i feel that other people think i am a lunatic

because if i felt like a lunatic i would be a lunatic

if i wasn't a lunatic and only thought i felt like a lunatic i would be presuming i knew how a lunatic felt

how rude

we look around

get our bags, go out to the car

"the first problem with this place is its western mentality, two hours, how could you be expected to see a museum in two hours

" "the time should be unlimited

it wouldn't take anymore technology to make the time on the parking meter unlimited

" "well maybe three hours

" "no, three hours is not enough, five hours is not enough

" "maybe ten hours would be enough, but, then, why not make it unlimited

" we are headed back to the car, but ali remembers something he wants to show us

we go around to the back of the museum, where outside there are two buildings as might be seen in a village from around here a hundred and fifty, two hundred years ago

ali wants us to speculate on what we would be feeling coming into the village

"it would depend on whether you knew you were having food or not

" "whether you had a good catch or not

" "whether you had a woman to come home to

" "they would sometimes offer you a choice, man or woman

" "whether you were wet, cold or warm and dry

" there are embarrassing aspects to this conversation, just as there are embarrassing aspects to anthropology

ali calls it the history of humanity

we walk around, the mountains are beautiful, so is the sea, the trees, the snow caps, the sky

i am happy it is not bright

it starts to rain a bit

we go

¥¥¥¥¥ elizabeth and i see a movie, it is later that day

there is too much in this day, but elizabeth's place is dark and macko the dog is there

i brush him after the movie, learning the names of the parts of his body in hungarian from marika neni, while we wait for dinner

orr, szem, fark

it is the croatian film

about bosnians and serbs

"croatians hate everybody

" my second roommate in vancouver, sanda, was croatian

her boyfriend was serbian

they would make jokes about each other but they were really proud that they could be together

i see him sometimes at the cafe napoli

he is a photographer or was

i lost touch with sanda

i think they started having difficulties

it became harder to get in touch with her and now i don't know if they are together still

the other roommate, robob, called me the devil

before that day we were getting to know each other, she told me iranian stories about animals

there were animals like the fox and the crow that played tricks

i told her what i knew about the trickster in west coast and ojibway stories

elizabeth makes a wonderful meal and picks out the mushrooms from mine

it does mean she gets to eat more mushrooms, but it's very nice

the chicken livers are incredible

i am going to go, but the curling is on

i sit on the couch

macko gets pissed off and starts growling

he calms down, the canadians win

¥¥¥¥¥ we are in the car again

running people over

not really

the guy who told yarrow and i, the scottish guy, who told us about the colon cleanse he was doing in graphic detail, goes to cross the street

"this is your last day

go on

dare to cross

" a high school girl flashes a brilliant smile at us as we stop for her, because she believes we will stop

"she's used that smile before," shelley comments

"that's just fine

it's the first smile we've seen all day

" we're still in the west end, but people are loosening up as we head east

"can you do me a favour

" my friend asks me, smirking

"next time can you please bring your own money

" ¥¥¥¥¥ sunday i was heading home from work

there was an old man with a long chin up in a window of a house

but it is not an old man, it is a corkboard someone has tacked messages and handbills to

sometimes, i think, it is like a dŸrer painting, faces coming out at you and all snarls and animals

this was sunday, hours before my sweety was landing at the airport

i was so excited, but i felt like i was going to have a stroke

i didn't know if i had forgotten how to touch her, how to kiss her, how to look at her

i didn't know if i was broken

i didn't know if the shortness of breath i had been feeling since she'd been gone would subside or not when she was with me

her absence was only magnified by her imminent arrival

so i thought about that old man that turned out to be a corkboard and how i must have wanted to see a mean old man who didn't take his overcoat off, even though he was in the second story of the house

he would not make himself comfortable for anything

and his begrudging presence was, in his mind, to be met with obsequious good humour

and hopefully his host was gracious and a little sarcastic, gently so, and maybe they could endure pleasantly the rest of the visit

perhaps it was a son, unadmittedly loved, but disapproved of by the father

perhaps the old man, the father, told ghastly stories of the old country

hopefully the ones about animals and not the ones about people



a few nights ago it was raining

i went out to get a snack

the solo market has small chocolate cakes, they are the size of large muffins and they are eighty-five cents

they don't seem to have any petroleum products in them, but they are always very moist and tasty

it makes me wonder, how they stay so moist all the time, but not enough to ask for the ingredients

so that night it was raining and out i go, bundled up

a baseball cap and my hoody covering that, with my red raincoat covering that

and i know spring is coming because you can smell the worms

every year around this time you can start smelling the worms

they come out on the sidewalks to dry out a little because the ground is drowning them, but they get stepped on and i don't know if it is the living ones or the dead ones i am smelling, but they are the smell of worms

i remember it was purim one year and i got out of my friend sarah's car

"that's the smell of worms," i said

she said she had another friend who could smell worms during the rain

i thought everyone could

i am looking at the sidewalk, because tonight it is worth it

there aren't so many worms that you can't avoid stepping on them

and though it is dark, the street lamps light up the pebbles inlayed in the concrete

of course they aren't inlayed, nothing so purposeful as that, but their round surfaces break the rough surface of the concrete and you can know that these pebbles have been made shiney and have emerged from the eroded concrete through the wear of thousands of steps and millions of raindrops

i don't know why tonight i am noticing them for the first time

they are really quite small

so i walk to the market

it is just before closing, somewhere around quarter after ten

i haven't thought what i will do if they are out of their little chocolate cakes

i walk in past the scaffolding they use for vegetable stands and past the flowers both cut and potted and the steps they stand on that stay out at night, covered with astroturf that collect just a little bit of garbage at night, usually no more than a coffee cup and a plastic bag that might have even been blown in there by the wind

inside it is light

not too warm: the woman wears gloves with the fingers cut out

i look in the case where they keep the cakes as well as the bacon, the ham, the chicken weiners, the butter, the margerine, the eggs, the samosas, the beef and vegetable patties, and sometimes the tupperwear containers of the food they have brought from their home to heat in the microwave and eat

i can't see the cakes and i wonder what i will do if they aren't there, but i am just not looking in exactly the right place and i see them there beside the lemon blueberry cakes

i say hi and ask for the cake, she goes behind the case and takes one out and puts it in a wax paper bag

"eighty-five cents

" i don't have the right change and give her a toonie

she gives me an extra dime, a dollar twenty-five and i give her back the dime

i ask if i can get quarters from my loonie, but she is low and wasn't able to get to the bank earlier today, she complains about the husband, nothing serious, he just didn't get back in time for her to get to the bank

so i leave the solo market

and just as i'm walking past the scaffolding that holds the oranges and apples outside there is this guy walking toward me

he is wearing a leather jacket and has dyed hair, blonde

it's short and it sticks up and he is looking over his shoulder, back at someone or something and i can't tell what it is, because there doesn't seem to be anything in particular to be looking back at

he seems to be looking in the general direction of the silvertone, but there is no one outside of there that i can see

anyway, like i said he is walking toward me and looking the other way and he is going to be walking into me in less than a second and very often i don't feel like saying, "hey

watch it

" except when i'm on my bike, in which case i am obnoxiously verbal

two things i learned in school were how to be invisible and how to be small

invisible won't work because he's not looking and he's going to be bumping into me

i never learned to disappear entirely

so i get small and smush myself up against the scaffolding

it's not even as arduous as the verb smush or the preposition against makes it sound

i just shrink

and he passes me, nearly bumping into the scaffolding itself, without even touching me

he is alarmed, but i have already slipped by him and put steps between us

i am not small

even if i didn't eat chocolate cakes late at night i wouldn't be small

i think about a friend of mine i was visiting recently

she was in pain with her back and when i went in she was curled on her bed with a cover over her and a heating pad behind her

she looked like i could put her in my hand

"you look so small," i said

and i squatted on the floor so i wouldn't feel like i was looming over her

the cake is getting drops of water on it as i rip pieces off and put them in my mouth

sometimes when i have my shoes off and my sweety doesn't and she is holding me she starts to smile like she's going to make fun of me

once i said, "why are you looking at me like that

" we had been through this before

"you know

you're just in one of those moods

" "what mood

" she pauses, not like she's deciding what to say, she already knows it, she's just wondering how long she can hold off saying it

"one of those short moods," and she bursts out laughing and, after failing at pouting, so do i

but i'm not small

so i am nearly home, having forgotten about the worms for the most part, having eaten the cake and having to walk around the big puddle in front of my house that takes up the whole sidewalk

a branch from the spruce tree outside lies on the ground

i walk in and up the steps and wonder when i am going to hammer in that protruding nail on the steps that always catches on the mop when i am taking the slippery mould off the stairs



sometimes there are too many details

the other day i was writing and i didn't know if my memory was going to blow my mind

of course it didn't, but trying to write about that one day was impossible

there were so many details, so many things happened

it was like leaving the dishes for a few weeks

maybe you can pick a cup off the top, a dish, a spoon, and wash it to lay back on top until the next sandwich or cup of coffee is needed, but the thought of doing all those dishes seems dangerous

you could pull out the wrong piece and the rest would come crashing down, or some dangerous fungus might have started growing underneath and you rationalise that it would be safer undisturbed, or you think you could be all night doing the dishes

it just seems better to do something else

but eventually i have to do the dishes

what i do is just do the one dish

then i tell myself, okay do nine more that will make ten

and then when i've got ten done (i usually do the bigger things first because it looks like you've got somewhere with them) then, i've actually done at least one-third of the dishes, because i don't have very many dishes, i'm just easily overwhelmed

so then i get into a rhythm with it, i might even be listening to the radio and the next ten go pretty well

if i've done the big dishes like the pot and the muffin tin and the mixing bowl first then the second third is just the plates and bowls

they are usually pretty easy by now, since they've had water running on them for a while

and then comes the cutlery

and when i've really left it they are sunk to the bottom of fungusy water and they might even have started to rust and the cooking oils have slowed down the rusting process, but have glawmed on to the dirt and fungus and so you really have to scour them

it isn't really penitence, it's just a disgusting natural consequence

anyway, i've left the stories for a week and now i have to do them one at a time

ali and i are driving in his car to his housing co-op

he doesn't live there yet, but he is on the waiting list

he is going to park on the bus lane on pender and as i said before, the way he drives you really feel like you are moving some place, like it's work to get there

you aren't supposed to stop here

the signs say stop with a circle and a line crossed through

there are others that say the same thing on every pole going up the street

"do you want me to get out and deliver it

" i ask

i don't know what it is, but it has got to get there

"no i have to do it

" he goes to get out and there is the shadow of the bus right behind us, like some silent shark

"oh shit

" we have to move

"you stupid bus, you stupid rules, this is what i think of your stupid rules," and he makes a "u" on pender

"this is third world driving," he seems to be telling me, the road, and the ministry of transport all at the same time

he runs in and drops "it" off

"that woman should not work at a housing co-op," he tells me when he gets back in

"yes, sure," he says mimicing her, in a dull tone, in sharp contrast to the adament tone he sometimes has, especially when driving and especially when talking politics

"i'll take religious people: christians, jews, muslims," he said later referring to political allies

"what about budhists," i ask

"budhists are not fighters," he says, "we need fighters

" "those people are dead inside," he says, imitating again, the woman at the co-op administration

we drive along to shelley's to pick her up

we are going to the museum of anthropology at the university of british columbia to see the persian calligraphy exhibit

shelley gets in, we say hi

we are driving down the street that has been waking her up at six in the morning

it is under construction

shelley tells ali that the road is closed

but he says that it isn't then he stops saying it isn't closed but he says we can get through

i don't think so, and shelley says she doesn't think so and we are driving up to a part between two trucks

we are going very slowly and i wonder if we will hear the crunch of metal, but without an inch's give we make it through

we are cheering and yelling at the construction workers

at granville ali buds into the traffic and shelley sucks in a gasp, "oh my gawd

" " what do you think

we are going to wait politely for some person with a social conscience to let us in

we'd be waiting quite a while

" "longer, maybe, in this neighbourhood," i say

here they have change boxes like parking meters where you can drop your change for the united way

they're in front of the liquor store

they have them in front of the liquor store on commercial too, but people still play there and panhandle sometimes

"this is the last day of your life," ali says menacingly to a pedestrian crossing in front of us

"do you want to die

just keep going," he yells, as he motions people in front of us

if they halt he goes ahead

" people here cause accidents by driving too slow

" i don't know what he means, since i don't drive, but okay

we play chicken with an approaching car

the car gets out of our way

it is an old man driving

"of course he would get out of the way he is an old man

he would be a fool not to get out of the way

" "what if he didn't get out of the way

" "then i would have to have respect for a man who is that old and has the balls to challenge me

" i know this is some persona that ali is playing, but i'm not sure why

i just play along as his straight man and that seems to work

it is probably less of a persona than i think, that he is tired of the boredom and cold politeness of canadians and is being his old aggressive and confrontational self

we are very close friends, but that was an instant thing and we haven't known each other long

whatever, who cares, we are having fun

¥¥¥¥¥ the next day is the day of the march, which went much the way i said it would in the last story

the eagles came at the first song as we stood on the corner of main and hastings

two eagles at first, later there were three, and then two again

they circled, circled, circled and followed us all through the march

the woman beside me, she said, "the drums bring them

" she later asked the man behind her, "where are we going from here

" then she turned quickly and said to me, "what am i asking a chinaman for

" "hey," i say and put my hand on her arm gently

she turns to him and says, "i was just joking

" he walks off after that

she moves away from me

just before she had said, "i have my grandmother here

" i don't know in what sense she means it, but it is very important to her

there are sea gulls swooping, pigeons flapping, ravens cawing and landing in, eagles soaring and circling

later above the cop shop we see all these birds and one hawk

i am singing the song because that woman who had been standing beside me said, "do you sing the songs

" "i don't know this one," i said

"it's not hard to learn," she said

¥¥¥¥¥ we drive up to the gate

on our way to the museum

there are still miles to go into the university, but we drive past the gate and ali says

"you call that a gate

" he holds forth on egyptian architecture and who can blame him

vancouver is ugly

architecturally anyway

but today you can see the sky, the mountains, snow caps and the trees, that is not ugly

dumb and beautiful, elizabeth calls vancouver

we drive up to the university, shelley points out the signs the cycling club has put up

we pass the golf courses

ali asks us where to go, we don't know

we say maybe this way

we drive slowly

more threats to pedestrians

everyone looks mad

angry, not one person is laughing or smiling

some people walk as if they are in body casts

they can't move their bodies

the only joints that seem to work are the hip joints and stiffly at that

they look like they are in pain

"i am tired of you 'maybes,'" ali says as we direct him into to a dead end lane with a dumpster

shelley and i like being called maybes and we are all shouting and laughing

"i'm not listening to you 'maybes' anymore

" "go that way, then," i say pointing in the opposite direction from the way we should obviously turn

finally shelley points us in the right direction and we get into the parking lot of the museum

we find change, shelley and ali do, to pay the meter

there is a two hour limit

ali tells us, "say i am the world famous calligrapher and i am here to take you through the exhibit

they will let me in free

" i think he doesn't think i will do it, but i say, "this is a world famous calligrapher, he only speaks farsi, he is here to translate for us

" in retrospect that would have been a little bit of a contradition, since how is he going to translate for us if he only speaks farsi

but the woman taking admissions doesn't even smile

"actually, we are all calligraphers, shelley and i are western calligraphers

could we get in free

" i am just trying to make her laugh, now

seeing as there is no hope

often times people will let you charm them into helping you out

"no, there are no discounts

" we are fishing out our money

ali checked the website last night it is five dollars each

"seven dollars," she says as we hand her our five dollars

"seven dollars, we thought it was five," i say

"the website said it was five dollars," says ali

"no it is seven dollars

" shelley has borrowed five dollars from me and i only have five left

i pull out my change, about forty-seven cents in pennies, nickels and dimes

"are you students

" she asks when we ask again for a discount

we say, "yes

" "do you have id

" "no

" "it is seven dollars then

" we stand there with our money, like my grandpa, i think

he died almost two whole years ago, but he would just stand there, helpless like, and in the way, until someone helped him out

he was an old man though and living in saskatchewan, and probably he is the reason i am not afraid of ali's driving

i once wore my bicycle helmet, while riding in his car

that tact doesn't work either

ali pays for us and we give him our five dollar bills

we are still going on about the website though

"would you like to fill out a complaint form

" the young woman asks

this is crushing

she can't even tell we are teasing her

"no

" we go check our bags, which we have to do to enter

thankfully it doesn't cost anything

¥¥¥¥¥ saturday at the store i see julie in front of the bulk section

she usually comes in with her step son damon and i learned her name from listening to him call out through the store, "julie





" even when she was right there and all he wanted to do was to ask a question

on may day last year i came upon her after she had witnessed people in the march being pepper sprayed while blocking the way to the police van, because some people had postered right in front of the police and now that they were apart from the main march as it was ending, were being arrested

this is what i gathered anyway

regardless, she was in shock

i don't think she had seen people being pepper sprayed before and she had given her water bottle to the people who were dousing people's eyes and burning skin with water

people lay writhing on the pavement outside of the vancouver playhouse, now soaked in water and their faces were red red

the first aid was being taken care of and all we could offer was some compassion and we talked to a friend of ours, a tall guy that looked in everyway, not just the stinging wet eyes, like he was going to bawl his eyes out

we gave him a hug, which he appreciated and then they went on the the cop shop to protest

emily, julie and i went on our way

emily and i had stuff to discuss and julie was getting a bus home

so that's how we got to know each other

i ask where damon is

"he and david are at home, waiting for me to bring home food

we have nothing in the fridge," she says laughing

"so here you are chatting away while they sit starving," i say laughing myself

i am moving both my hands like the shadow puppets of birds, dogs and crocodiles as if two hand mouths are gabbing wildly

she is laughing more

"it's like an eastern european faerytale," i say, "where the starving family hasn't eaten for three days and finally they send someone out to get the food and they end up coming back three more days later with a handful of beans

" she is nearly falling over

"not even a handful," i amend, "three beans and they are magic beans, but no one believes the person

and they throw the beans and the person out the window

" "that would be great," julie says, " i should bring home some beans and pretend that's all i brought

" "yeah," i'm really excited about practical jokes, "you can even have them for free

" we go into the bulk section

"which beans do you want

" "i think just three kidney beans

" i get a handful and count out three and put them in her hand

we are both still laughing

but i have to put more carrots, arugula, red peppers, navel oranges, parsley, eggplant, pears, spinach and cabbages out

¥¥¥¥¥ we walk into the museum

there are the totems and the boxes

shelley tells us about a dream she had

she's told it to me before, but now i can't remember it

neither ali or i say anything

i just don't know what to say

"it looks like a dog," shelley says of the one face

"it has a long body like a lizard," "or a snake," "but its face, it looks like a dog

" we find the entrance to the persian calligraphy exhibit and go in

"it is very sad when someone doesn't have a sense of humour," i say

"frightening

" "actually, this was very good for me," says ali, "mostly people are wanting to make a complaint against me

" there is no smile in his sarcasm

shelley and i are reading the first posting about the history of persian calligraphy

"oh, this will be interesting, read it

what does it say about the reason for calligraphy

" it says things about where it came from, how it was elivated as a high art to praise allah and how there was the cursive script for more secular writing

we are all reading

"actually, this is not the reason that calligraphy came along

all this is true, but in the qoran, you are not allowed to replicate faces of animals or people at all

so there could be no art in this way, and an elaborate calligraphy came out to express art

" ali tells us about persian culture

gives us a history of about three thousand years in about five minutes

again it is like time travel

armies would come and overpower persia, but the persian culture was so far advanced that those that took over would adopt persian language, persian poetry, persian mathematics

the persian culture stole everything from every culture that came through there, from turkey, from iraq, from arabia, from africa, from greece, southeast asia, mongolia everywhere

persians got accounting from arabs and stole it

they got the concept of zero from india and sold it to the europeans

the europeans were thinking that everything started with one, but then they said no you don't start from here, ali levels his hand to just above knee level, you start from the ground, zero

ali briefly touches the ground

he tells us about when the arabs captured persia, that within one hundred years their court was speaking persian

there will be mistakes here and you can assume that they are mine in remembering

we go to the teaching corner and over to a board game that looks like snakes and ladders, with farsi

shelley says, "i think we're not supposed to step on the carpet

" she reads the sign, "students





" "we are not students," ali says

"you are supposed to step on carpets

it is good for them

the more worn they are the more valuable

" "mine must be worth a mint," i say

"yours is not a tight weave

it is not worth anything," ali says, we inspect the carpet

"this is not bad, but it is not valuable

it could be tighter, smaller knots

" he drops the end of the carpet

"it is cut with knives," he says making the motion of someone holding the wool and shaving it with a knife

"people sit and weave as someone calls out the colours

girls

" i am making him sound terse which is a mistake

there is just no way of giving you everything he said

i would be writing for days

he translates some of the names on the board

one is satan

one is hope, one is truth, one is greed, one is despair

¥¥¥¥¥ on monday there is a light rain

light for here, but elsewhere they might just say, "it is raining

" we pass my bike locked to a telephone pole anchor

it is covered, the anchor wire, with hard yellow plastic

"there's my bike," i say

"papa says he saw it here a lot," april says

"i came by about three times

" "that papa, he exaggerates

" we are walking to the credit union

she has returned from mexico

we are a little hungry

i couldn't find my hat as we left so i am wearing two scarves

one around my neck and one around my head

i wonder if i will remind someone of their aunt

but that would be okay

we turn on seventh and try to avoid huge puddles

she takes my hand

we are talking and passing moulding apartments

then we are passing the grandview cut

it is a little windy and a little cold

a car puts on its turn signal

it turns and we cross

we walk up grandview and pass the graffiti on the water station

the windows on the backs of the apartment buildings show us their people

a woman seems to be staring over a stove or sink

a girl is stretching up to the cupboards on a stool

we come to the cars parked behind the corner store

at commercial we cross, waiting for the light to change, because my sweety always waits for the light to change

we see elaine across the street

"hey elaine," i yell across the street, but it doesn't carry and april yells, "hey, elaine

" elaine hears her

we wave

"that's my yell across the street voice," april tells me

outside of the credit union there is jill and filis

we stop and talk, they talk about mexico

jill is talking about a fight she got in once

elaine joins us "were you there

" jill asks elaine

she was this time when things came to blows in a gay bar

after the credit union we walk right into the seto cafe beside it

i have to go make some calls at the phone booth

when i get back april is looking at an article in the province

"if you want to be the most beautiful woman in the world, they say you have to have heather graham's eyes, heather locklear's nose, halle berry's cheeks and michelle pfiffer's mouth

" there is this huge computer altered picture of what that would look like and i say, "that's not halle berry's cheeks

" but we turn back to the little pictures of the four of them and sure enough it's right from that picture

it's nothing, not beautiful, not even ugly

"that's not a face," i say

we turn back to the other pictures

"i don't really like heather graham's eyes

sure they are intensely blue, but there is no sparkle in them," i say

"halle berry's eyes are better

brown eyes," says april

"it's not just halle berry's cheeks

you need to have halle berry's nose, in fact, you need to have halle berry's mouth

if you want to be the most beautiful woman, you need to look like halle berry

" i am laughing agreeing

"have you seen her body

" april asks

i actually haven't, naked, but you get the idea

"she's got a great body

and her breasts





" my sweety loves breasts

okay, everyone does, but my sweety really loves breasts

in the summer at the park, i watch the dogs, because i love dogs and april watches the breasts, we tell each other about the breasts and dogs, my sweety doesn't pet the breasts though

"have you seen her breasts

" i ask

i can't think of a movie that she shows her breasts in, but i don't know everything

"no, but there will be an opportunity to see halle berry's breast in monster's ball

" i am very happy for her, my sweety i mean

halle berry too if i had thought of it, but i didn't

she tells me about halle berry's sweety

"erik bonnet is a very happy man

his face always looks like this

" she kind of makes a too too happy to be proud smile, and lowers her voice a little, "yeah, i'm with halle berry

" "kind of like my face," i say

i lower my voice and mimic her face, "yeah, i'm with april

" "it says the surgery to look like this would cost forty thousand

they should have a picture of michael jackson," she says

"they should have a picture of michael jackson and do it backwards," i say

"yeah," april says

"yeah, he has liz taylor's nose," "diana ross's cheeks," "uncle fester's pallor

" april talks about his thirtyith anniversary in show business, but i think she's talking about uncle fester and i'm confused before i figure it out

¥¥¥¥¥ we walk and go into the next room

as we walk he tells us about the name ali, it means the greatest, after allah, "all alis are complete idiots

whenever i meet an ali i say, "ah, you too, your parents wanted you to be a genius

'" we are laughing as we look at this lamp that has a very faint light showing you the calligraphy engraved in it

there is a black silk and satin cloth with the calligraphy

the aesthetic is: the less space between lettering the better

ali tells us about his grandfather telling his father, what have you brought into the world, this is garbage

"ali would ask his grandfather, 'who do you think you are

' when he was four," i tell shelley

"he was my favourite enemy," ali says

the writing here is arabic

used for math because you can't do anything with farsi except write poetry

it is too illusive, ali has said before

persians stole arabic language for mathematics to simplify

there is the text that shows the concept of the sun being the centre of the galaxy

this is centuries or is it millenea before capernicus and gallileo

it is overwhelming all this and i am fading in and out, understanding and hearing ebbing and flowing, but the beauty is calming

there is something that might be called an astroglobe

shelley is fascinated

it is gold i think

it is beautiful and it is for prayer, ali tells us that they could use it to find the direction to mecca and to find the days and times of day for the prayers

there is a chair and a desk and somewhere there is a plate or a bowl or a tray

it is all different pieces of wood, mosaic

ali points to the calligraphy in the centre of the seat of the chair

an alarm goes off, but you might not know it is an alarm, it's kind of weak

the security guard says, "you're not allowed to touch it

" "he wasn't touching it he was just pointing to the calligraphy," i say

he sits still in the dark on his chair and i would have walked right past him without seeing him if he hadn't called out

without moving he seems to settle back into the dark

there are pictures of people praying, thousands and thousands all in circles like a braided rug

"those are people

" i say to shelley, but more to myself

¥¥¥¥¥ i walk through the march with my friend louise

we are in an alley off of abbott

you cannot believe the number of lines of wires, the numbers of wire poles, hydro and telephone, the numbers of tucked in fire escape ladders, rusted red, the redness of the brick and the browness of the poles, the greyness of the windows and the yellow fadedness of the curtains, the greeness that covers all of it, moss

it creeps up the walls and the poles and we are still in a rain forest

the lane is thin and we are hundreds of people

the sky is a small sliced rectangle above

there is a small pool of blood that has caught in the cracks in the asphalt, not very small

there is a footprint of blood

this is the first stop

the elders with the banners and the drums need room to get out seeing as they are leading the march and we all squish to one side

"it's really great to see the men here in support

" says one older woman with grey curly hair, to her friend

she looks at me and i nod

to my other side a tall man with long grey hair, but not as old as you might think, sands a stone with sandpaper

there is white dust on his hands, and at first i think he is sanding his hand, the knuckles of his thumb

i think of the chaos of lines in the lane, i think of the blood and wonder where it is from and who

and i think that you can't tell anything about where blood is from or from who, by just looking at it

i think of how many people are here now

we leave

¥¥¥¥¥ we think we are missing a room and we walk back through the exhibit

a woman is sketching something, i think she is probably sketching the astroglobe

shelley is so drawn to the astroglobe

"you want the astroglobe, don't you," i say to her as if i think there is a way we can get it for her

she looks at me strangely and laughs

we go to the beginning and there is the prayer room

we walk inside

it is modern, simplified

shelley likes the metal inlayed in the wood

there is a tap and sink

the tap doesn't work

it is meant to look like a sink to wash your hands in before you pray, but this part of the building doesn't have plumbing and so it doesn't work

if you want to wash your hands before praying, you can do so in the washrooms, the sign tells you

we leave, go look at a big bill reid sculpture and then get lost in the research collections, opening shelves

peering through glass

"there is no context," shelley says

and it is completely true

we are lost and would have been in the calligraphy exhibit too if it weren't for our interpreter

but as we say in the car later, "you are always lost

if you think you are not lost then you are more lost

" another says, "you are never lost, there is always a way to somewhere and back to the place you came from

" we know we are saying the same thing differently

"you two are quite a pair," shelley says

not one of us knows where we are or where this road is taking us exactly

we know on different levels of confidence that we will find our way back to vancouver

¥¥¥¥¥ friday i see the old man, the yugoslavian gentleman

he speaks to anna, he speaks to maggie, i am up on a ladder

i say hi to him

"oh hello

" i tell him about the croatian film i saw with my friend elizabeth, how strange it was

he talks about how strange the war was, how everybody lived together, mixed marriages, kids who were both, where did they go, what were these people that could separate this, he means the country, he means the people, as if it were a child that even solomon knew you can't cut in two

i know it was more than two in the case of yugoslavia

i tell him about the allegory of the film, i leave out the farce of the film, because that wasn't the good part

"these two men were close, but they hated each other," i say niave and incredulous

as i think i said before, he left thirty years ago, he worked as an engineer

he is retired

when we first met i told him about the primo levi book i had just finished reading, "the monkey's wrench" which is a chemist's relation of the stories of a rigger throughout the rigger's career, as they work on a problem on this one site that they can't finish, because of bad weather

this is true, i really did tell him about the book and how much i loved it

and this is part of how we became friends

"no, no, i can't tell you everything

" primo levi writes

"either i tell you about the country, or else i tell you what happened

but, in your place, i'd pick what happened, because it's a good story





but if i tell you where it was, i'll get into trouble: the people there are nice, but they're kind of touchy

" you can read the rest if you like

the old man is looking for a shampoo that doesn't have oil in it

i don't know much about the shampoos

i recommend the bulk shampoos, that way he can take just a little and if he doesn't like it it's no great loss

we check the ingredients of the one shampoo, it has chamomile in it

he says chamomile dries your hair

the other shampoo has coconut oil in it

there are conditioners and then there is the castile soaps, all-purpose, but i don't have time to go through the ingredients with him

the bell is ringing and i have to ring people in at the till

i excuse myself and he thanks me

¥¥¥¥¥ i am running out of words, both then and now

another cup of coffee won't help and i am going to be stiff for my chiropractor appointment in the morning

boo hoo

it is pouring outside and you can still hear cars driving around

and so we follow things around, separately

ali, shelley and myself

ali adds change to the meter

we kind of weave around each other

shelley shows me the carving of a man that gave her shivers

"it has an energy," she says

"carved things have an energy to them," she says

"shelley's dad makes wood bowls

they are beautiful, i'm told," i tell this to ali

shelley makes a bitter face, "but they've been destroyed

" maybe shelley explains

i don't

alone with shelley, i say, "it looks like you could move that spoon out of his hands

" "no

" "yes, it does

" i am peering

shelley grabs the spoon

it doesn't budge

i look at baskets from this area, i read people talk about picking roots and learning patterns and seeing a relative's baskets in the museum

i go out into the open space of the totems

i am burnt out

i lie down and close my eyes

ali comes out here and looks around

i go up to him about twenty minutes later

"have you seen the ceramics

" i ask him

i especially like that room because it is dark

the calligraphy exhibit was dark

we walk there and look at the ceramics

"look at these," ali points to some austrian jugs

"they are beautiful, but compared to the art of persia even thousands of years before, it is primative

" i didn't use the word primative in my own mind, but i had been thinking the same thing

there is a piece that accidentally has a hawk and an owl in it, from the firing, so says the artist's statement, but i can't see them

¥¥¥¥¥ monday i am telling cease and the women at the prison about the march, i am telling her about the eagles and the other birds

a friend of hers had seen the eagles

she is telling us that her friend saw two of the eagles mating

i am thinking, on a pole or piggyback in the air, a biplane eagle wing span

"do you know how eagles mate

" cease asks us, like she's got something really great to tell us

"they come together in the air like this

" she swoops her hands together and up like an exaggerated hand clasp for prayer

"they cling on and plummet to the earth and just before they are about to crash they separate and fly off

" we are laughing

"fast," someone says

"intense," says someone else

"eagles are about communication

what they were communicating was creation in the face of death," says cease

please continue tomorrow for part two of this collage



tonight agnes and i go the the women's prison

i go almost every monday night

but sometimes i'm sick and you don't want to bring infections in there

women don't get much health care except for antidepressants and psychotropics

they call it "mentalcation" or "medtal health," jokingly

tonight agnes from the women's centre is bringing in purple ribbons

every valentine's day there is a march to remember the murdered women of the downtown eastside

the area of town the missing women (who may or may not have been found on that pig farm) come from

vancouver is on coast salish territory and the ceremonies to start the march include a coast salish welcome, a smudge (this is a plains tradition, not a west coast tradition

but there many plains natives in the city and people share traditions), words from elders and from some of the family members of the missing women or women who have died here

we then take over main and hastings, the corner, stopping traffic and making a circle around the intersection, and sing traditional songs

then we march, only four banners, and stop at sites where dead women have been found and people who knew them speak

we stop at the cop shop and people rail against them

we wind around to oppenheimer park and make a circle around the inner circle of the members of the families

that's all we say, "the members of the families" or "the families" even though we mean the members of the families of the women who have died

the members of the families make a smaller circle inside and people place their candles, tobacco, at the totem there

supposedly the first year, ten years ago, there was an eagle that flew around and around, way up high

last year there were ten

i saw them circling

i didn't count them, but it was the tenth year and someone mentioned it later

after that we go to the japanese language school for the feast

there is stew and bannok, last year there was salmon loaf

it is always very cold so by this time everyone is happy for the food

the elders are served first then the rest of us can go up and get our food

some more people speak, there is a drum circle and songs and a few other musicians perform

kids run around and people have to be reminded to take off their hats during the songs

two years ago some one said to me, "you have to take off your hat, sir

" i did and the old man and i looked at each other, but there was a grace going on, so we didn't say anything

last week at the prison we went in and cease and i brought in materials for anyone who wanted to to help make a banner we would hang at the downtown eastside women's centre for the event

only a few women did, but we put together their squares after on a sheet filis had hemmed and punched gromets into

but since then there has been the news

so many of the women in the prison come from the downtown eastside and the news of the farm and the investigation has brought up a lot of fear and anger

the police really dragged their feet on this one

in the news they tell you this is the longest running police investigation in british columbia, but they don't tell you it is the lamest

this afternoon i was taking out the compost and some guy on the street said, "i knew that farm

" that's all i heard and i'm making assumptions, but whether he was talking about the pig farm or not the mayor of port coquitlam knew the farm and went to parties there

a lot of people did

the police had a lot of tips

this is coming out in the media, but people have been getting on the police for years

only two years ago did they come out with a reward for information

blah, blah, blah

agnes and i brought in valentine's candies, ribbons, pins, spanish and english community papers, photographs of the finished banner for anyone who wanted one, markers, and we had to use the institution scissors

so lots of people came

a few at first and then more

a friend of mine came by, she's been out of circulation for a few months, we shook hands

we talk about the sisterhood and whether she will still be the firekeeper for the sweatlodge, she says, "i don't think i'll get myself involved in that

it's too political

" the three others that were put in segregation with her have chances to leave in the next few months, i think she has to be a little more careful

i know it meant a lot to her when she become the firekeeper

she is ojibway, from north ontario, but has been adopted by westcoast nations

in her traditions women aren't drummers

now she can drum, having been adopted

"let's not talk about my sad life, (teasing smirk) what have you been up to

" i tell her about the project and tell her the story about the two guys, roy bilt and his brother, the brother roy and i played a little joke on outside the pharmacy

i think she isn't listening, but i keep telling the story

when i'm finished she says, "i really like stories like that, the ones that are just about the little things that happen

as for when you hear them it just reminds you

" she is always saying, "as for





" i love that

but i will never ask her where that comes from

another woman i know, one of the four, is sitting at the other end of the room

we are all talking about the purple ribbons and the colour purple

she says, "in our culture purple is a healing colour

traditionally it is a healing colour

that's cree tradition

" she just got back in general population this week, too

she laughs with the woman beside her

she has written a children's book in the last two months, while in seg

anne who usually goes in with us has said she will help her get in touch with publishers

"medwicket for delta block," comes over the p

a

let me just tell you why i can't use anybody's name

it's against the code to identify people publically outside

people have enough trouble making it work at first without other people recognising their names

also, people don't have any say or control over what happens so much of the time inside

if you consider yourself an ally, you won't be another fucker to take that away

if i didn't know, i might be forgiven after a few months depending on what i said, as long as i didn't talk about someone's crime, but i know and it would be a form of betrayal, seeing as i haven't asked if it would be okay

as a writer this isn't easy, names speak for themselves, but there's no fooling with it, so there

i almost feel like delaying the posting of this so i can go back and ask everyone if i can use their names

some would say yes if i gave them copy of the story, but the prison institution would hate it that i was writing about the place and might bar me

a woman comes in to tell someone about what another person did

there is a woman outside glaring

"don't let her get to you

she's not worth it

" the advice giver looks up

the glarer goes away

someone down at the children's book writer's end of the table gets a picture and asks me, "will you take this to the farm

" my stomach lurches

"i don't want to go there," i say

diane weib is here with us

she is a w2 coordinator

we sometimes call the w2s the christian ladies, we like some of them very much, the women inside call them rent-a-friend

she offers to take it out there

i am surprised

the women really appreciate her offer and they give her one of the big ribbons we've made, it's actually one i made

it is folded over with two loops and the trailing ribbon on the left side says, "remember" and on the right side it says, "february 14th

" the children's book writer, the one that said those things about cree traditions, says, "we will need to take tobacco" and goes to get some for diane to take

she has these three things in her hands and jokes about running into the media

"don't let the pigs give you a hard time," one woman says

the women give her advice about what to say to the media about the women and about the downtown eastside

they want better representation

they talk about what they have seen and felt a little

"all i can think about is the ruling," one woman says

"fifty percent responsible for my assault

" she almost spits it

she takes a picture of the banner, a ribbon and she has a picture of a display they did for december sixth, the memorial for the women shot by marc lepin in montreal

she says she will send them to workers' compensation who withheld fifty percent of her settlement because she was a streetworker and therefore "fifty percent responsible for her assault

" people write poems for the women on the ribbons, some ask us to pin them on the banner, others make smaller ones for marchers to wear

my friend sitting beside me, the one who used to be the firekeeper, and i get a little assembly line going

her sweety jumps into the conversation about the media

we laugh, because my friend was joking just a while ago with her for needing to be in everyone's conversation

"that'll get her in trouble," my friend says

she's smiling

her sweety, who i only think is her sweety because of the tender way they were holding hands earlier, wrote one of the poems on the bigger ribbons

"she's always writing poems," my friend says

"does she ever write you poems

" i ask

"no

" "i will," her sweety says

people take ribbons and thank us

some give us hugs

it's been a relief for some of the women to talk about it

to do something

one woman makes a confession and thanks us

she wants ribbons to take to her unit

she comes back a minute later she's just given out all of them in the rotunda, we give her a handful more

there are hundreds of little ribbons

we stuff them in a bag and dump all the scraps in the trash

my friend's sweety comes back in

"can i borrow the scissors

" "we had to give them back to the guard at eight-thirty

" she rolls her eyes

i shrug and shake my head

agnes and i pack up all the supplies

take the left over information about the march to the rotunda and say goodbye

our visitor tags have to be visible, but they always have to be visible

i push the button by the first door

beep beep beep (pause) click

we open the door

we are in the first corridor

agnes pushes the second button by control

"control," that's what they call the station that opens and shuts everything, that watches everything, that if it wants can hear anything, that holds your id till you give back your visitors tag, that tells you what you can bring in or not no matter what you've had approved by whom, that might spring a drug test on you, that anounces our workshops or events, that keeps you outside in the cold seemingly just for fun

beep beep beep (pause) click

we open the second door

the second last button by the visitors' cages

beep beep beep (pause) click

we're in the lobby

we hand in our visitors tags

diane is asking the young women, i don't know if you would even call them women, who have come in for visits with some of the youngest prisoners, "so was everything okay the second night

are there any concerns

" there don't seem to be

one girl says something, but i can't hear

agnes and i sign out and get our stuff from the locker and put it back in our pockets

i press the last button

beep beep beep (pause) click

and open the last two doors

we drive past the warehouses, it changes every week, less farmland, more warehouses

agnes and i talk about who we talked to, what we were told, not secrets though

we are amazed at how caring the women are to each other

why more places don't have that on the outside

and i'm also thinking of the rats that live in the ditches out here as we drive through the dark



minutes before closing the store, i am looking at a guy who is in the organic fruit section

i know him, there is something very familiar about his face, but i dismiss it

if i were the type of person to say that there are types of people, which i sometimes, but hopefully very rarely am, i would say he is the type of person i would not likely know

i dismiss his familiarity, because there is something very worldly about him

i tend to think i don't know much about worldly things

i don't know, really, what worldly things are

maybe a worldly thing would be a long-distance relationship or having a casual lover in another country or having studied abroad or knowing that prada is a museum in spain

which it may or may not be i could be mixing this up

i certainly couldn't tell you which city, but if i had to guess i would say barcelona

so i just keep ringing in the groceries

i am in a foul mood, lack of sleep and having been told the produce area, which i am today responsible for, looks like shit

i hate when people say something looks like shit or looks ugly

once i scoured a tea kettle for almost an hour to get it as shiney as possible, because a roommate had called it ugly

it was true, it was aesthetically displeasing, and that person has replaced the tea kettle since

sometimes things are ugly

it just seems very unkind to say so

so this person comes up to the till with the woman he is with

i type in his member number and the name justin evans comes up

before i know what i'm saying i yell out, "i know where i know you from

" my mouth is well ahead of my brain, but i hear myself saying "we were in an airplane





to montreal





in september





about three years ago





: i would be going on, but he's clued in and it is a joyful reunion

we are very happy to see each other and i am blushing, which happens easily

"that was the best plane trip of my life, it was so great meeting the two of you," he says

i had been going to montreal with elizabeth for an adventure and to see some friends and get to know the city a little

i saw that the guy sitting next to me was reading about super eight film production or something and i asked him if he ever went to the blinding light because they had a byo8 night

well we got talking and it was us three writers all sitting in a row

he showed us some proofs, i think they were proofs, of a book he was putting together with an ex-lover of his who he was going to visit

he, she and her new lover were all very close

(i told you he was worldly

) it was writing they had both done

one would write a piece, poetry, and read it over the answering machine to the other

the other would write out the piece as it was told to them, sometimes with different phrasing and sometimes with entirely different words, when the tape was unclear

the original writer's work was in black print and the transcribed work of the other was in italicized red print

or maybe one writer was in red the other in black and the italics denoted the transcriber, anyway, it was subtle and moving

both elizabeth and i liked the pieces immensely and we three talked for hours about it and other things and generally felt very pleased to have found one another

we exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up in montreal

"i was disappointed that we didn't meet up afterwards," he says

i say something lame and then tell him that there is a web site that elizabeth and my writing are on

he asks for the url

i tell him, "i'll write it on the receipt" and i do

i tell him to take care and he says something similar

tonight i am meeting my friend shelley, but i happen to know she is going to go to a movie, because the people she has plans to go to the movie with came in the store and we got talking about shelley

so i plan to go to the tony wilson concert

i am told it's not tony wilson's compositions, it's improvisational,"so no don cherry

" "no, they are all stellar muscians in their own right and it is like they are all conversing, you know it's a free thing," "it's free

" i say

mark rolls his eyes

"i get it

it's free, but you have to pay

" mark and i are talking while we cash out

"tony wilson rocks my world," i say

"you know tony wilson

" "no, i don't know him, but i luuuuuuv him

" "for christ's sake lora would you be quiet

" "you are not telling me to be quiet roisin," i state

she doesn't reply

mark drives

here is another car that you have to really drive

"just talk to jason, maybe he can change your shift," sonia says to me

"i don't want to talk to jason," i say

sonia is trying to find a way not to change shifts with me like she said she would

"just talk to him

" "okay

" we drop sonia off on broadway and go to the front

the concert has already started

mark walks in like he owns the place, which he doesn't, but he's involved

if i had any brains i would walk in like i owned the place too

i would do it with a little more humility though

that's how you get in to places free

the humility goes with my style, because i don't look like i own anything, but my possessed air, humble as it may be, could be, to an unknowing onlooker, evidence of my involvement

you just have to look like you're supposed to be inside, not outside

a person i once knew used to dress up in an ambulance attendant's uniform and pretend there was an emergency and get into shows free

those were big shows

that wouldn't work at the front

so i have the money and the muscians really need it and i pay

there is a great peak hole

you just turn the cover on its pin and there is the hole and you look in and it's big enough so you can hear

i love the peak hole

the audience

they are so reverent

they are just these sharp black shadows

the musicians just glow in the light like they are on fire or something

sort of pentacostal, but subdued

like people have gotten used to seeing people with flames on their heads, or pretend they are used to it

mark comes back from his buzzing

"let's go in," he says

i shut the peak hole

we go in

i just stand there for a while and feel grateful

i can see tony wilson

curled into his guitar

and i can't remember if it was his vest or his guitar strap, but something was beautifully woven and his hair is in a pony tail that lies curled on his shoulder

but i just look at him for a second and then i close my eyes because i'm not here to worship him

when i kind of get a little into what they are all doing i look around and one of the green seats is empty

i go sit down

then i really close my eyes, kind of with my whole body

and then there is just my sore back and the music

and my back can really hear the music

finally, i open my eyes again

one can see how we are relatives of monkeys by watching improvisational jazz performers

this speaks to my high regard for improvisational jazz performers and monkeys

the only one i can really see is the stand up bass player

he is standing there, his long arms draped around the neck of his bass looking curious and settled

he might move at any moment, but right now he doesn't have to and so he observes, but as he observes he also thinks and you can tell he thinks about himself

his neck is hunched

that bone that i can't see, that protrudes from the spine at the neck would be extra pronounced

but he is not crouched

his lips protrude and he could probably see them if he wasn't watching tony wilson, who is playing, but who i can't now see from my green chair, and his protruding lips and his ability to see them is probably what makes me think he is thinking about himself

i don't mean in an arrogant way

i mostly mean self-aware, but thinking it

he scratches and pokes himself and his bass, but while he is watching, holding his bass by it's neck with his long draping arms, he seems happy in his scowly-faced musings

no one claps, but tony's solo which isn't exactly a solo is finished

for a while i kind of lose track of language





then there is the tone of my doorbell at home, then it's an out of breath violin, then some tropical bird knocking wood in his throat, then the knocking changes to the knocking of that ball on the wood feet of that soccer game you play at a pool hall, then sound warps and light runs red down the strings of the neck of the bass and then the bass turns and light runs yellow, phones ring and sounds of phones ringing change and break apart, sax makes a jazzy siren sound, panicked heartbeat and i think of when i went to a party of a friend of a friend when i first got to vancouver, and that one friend i had here had moved

we were listening to liz phair and the feeling is like that then, that i am being let in on some insight of what life is like if you give it half a moment's thought

but i know that is not the point, i am becoming worshipful again

i lose it again





bugs run over our life, all over our life, all kinds of bugs, all sizes of bugs, sometimes just one, sometimes just five, sometimes just a thousand, sometimes just a trillion

improvisational jazz performers can hear this and tell us

every surface, every crevasse, twitches and scratches, staticky popcorn, chewing paper, emergencies, wailing, crying, blinding, bombs washing over death, cleaner sounds, sanitary, but there are sometimes rumblings underneath or to the side sirens wail and cry outside

they really do and i laugh to myself

i think, "seedy part of town

" that's what the news called us talking about the dead women and the farm nearby that the police are investigating

i was listening, ringing in groceries and i said "hey

" and the woman, i was packing her groceries, she said, "that what they're saying about our neighbourhood

" indignant like

because sure, it's true, but the news isn't ironic the way we would be if we were talking about it

i remember when i was studying hungarian i thought it was interesting one day when i realized the word for self and the word for seed were very similar

"mag" and "magam"

what self conscious brooders us monkeys are

bugs and moths and there is a bug light some of them sizzle and burn

i should stop here, but i can't, too many other things happened

i forgot to tell you about the break

it's not important, but mark said, "should we get a drink

" i normally don't drink anymore

i really can't handle the stuff

but a beer sounds like a good idea

i go get one with him, sit back down, mark goes following after his smoke which he plans to get from ron

it's not really fair, i'm using mark

for literary purposes

i'm not so humble as to not believe i sometimes have literary purposes

so i'm sitting down now

and three people converge, not into one person, but into a group

they know each other and they are around the same age, actually, i wouldn't be surprised if they were all exactly the same age

they are young and share that in common

they are probably out of high school

the one boy looks very studious

collar buttoned up to the top, on reflection i think his shirt was ironed

so maybe he is cared for, but i wasn't thinking that at the time

his hair is crazy, not purposefully crazy, neglectfully crazy

he looks too studious to spend much time with his hair

he looks like he is about two months away from his last hair cut, if i can assume his hair grows fast, and it is just standing up straight from his head, a round fuzzball

he is showing the other boy and the other girl his cut on his finger, unwrapping his red bandage

it is like an accomplishment as he shows it off and then wraps it back up

but that was then, the show is over

we all clap

the improvisational jazz performers hold hands and come to the front the the place they were playing

they are all smiling, something about love

not the gushy kind, the kind it's taken twenty-five years to find

tony wilson puts his arm around the woman improvisational jazz performer

her initials are m

l

learner is her last name, but like i've said before i mix up things about people i have never met

she and tony walk off the stage like siblings

and after lining up and peeing and wondering about the man from the ninteenth century in the picture in the washroom

i get out of there

that's when i see the picture of the woman improvisational jazz performer and see her name and the poster of the event: time flies

and i think of the bugs

flies are bugs

i thank mark for bringing me here

i think he uses the word, much

i drift off down the street away from the talk and the people

i can't really say how i got to the corner of broadway and main, but i trip over the curb and jar my back, just a little, when i catch myself from falling

i have missed the bus, so i go into the store where elizabeth gets her smokes

forgive all my references to elizabeth, but she's a close friend and this is her neighbourhood

i get some dill pickle chips, not a small bag either, even though they have whey powder and i have become very allergic to dairy

i ask the guy how he is

he sort of knows me, like i sort of know him

he says good and he asks me how i am and i say good

but then at the cash i forget i had asked him how he was and ask again only i remember as i'm saying it and then say it softly, like i'm embarrassed, because i am and he doesn't answer

i get on the bus and eat every chip

there are matress stores and restaurants

i walk to shelley's place over the construction that's been waking her up at six every morning

and knock on her door

there is no answer, i knock on her window, no answer

i knock louder on her window, no answer

bummer

i stare at the little window door she could open to see who it was if she was there

it's not opening

i walk down to max's and look at the rich people in the restaurant beside it

max's is closed

i walk down to broadway along granville

there is an optical store

and the faces scare me

they are just big ads

after the performance and missing my friend i am feeling sensitive and paranoid

i walk into the coffee shop

the guy ahead of me is asking the coffee maker guy why they aren't open twenty-four hours anymore

"the bus strike hit us hard

a lot of places around here really suffered

" "well there isn't a bus strike anymore

" "yes, but it's been hard to recover

we just can't afford to keep it open

i think also september 11th had it's effect

" i roll my eyes

i don't know, but i think the coffee maker guy saw me and i feel bad

he says, "but maybe that is starting to change

it isn't like i'm saying we won't ever be open twenty-four hours, we just can't right now

i can't say i'd mind, i really like the graveyard shift

" he is skinny and pale and his head is buzzed

friendly in a tired way

the people that are leaving say bye, like it's been wonderful staying here and thanks for the warm hospitality, we'll come back to see you, specifically you, real soon

and he just says, "bye





bye

" like yeah of course you'll be back or you'll never be back, you'll come in and you'll say good bye the same way whether i'm here or not, whether you're in this coffee shop or not

he has either seen it all or acts like he's seen it all

he comes out from behind the counter to wipe up after them and he is wearing faded jeans

i forget a coffee lid but i'm out of the shop and the bus is coming

i get on the bus and the driver tells me to get a lid next time

i concentrate on not spilling coffee and spill coffee for the whole ride back to main and broadway

it is really hot and i burn my hands and my right thigh

fuck

i wonder as i cross broadway if it's too late to go visit elizabeth, but that's where i'm going

i pass the fox theatre and nirvana

one owner guy is working on something

no one else is in there

i cross 7th and think of the crosses and cracks in the pavement on the lane as i cross the lane

i think of elizabeth's constipation story

macko, the dog, was constipated, now he's shitting

i think i will say to macko when i see him, "macko, back to the land of the crapping

" like i'm congratulating him

but no one is home

i leave and pass through the parking lot and through the courtyard, just to see if i can see elizabeth if she is working at her computer, from the laneway

it's scarey in the courtyard and i rush through even though it is small

i walk fast through the laneway and is that macko in the window

no it is just a plant

no evidence of life

lights are on though

i walk home

back up kingsway where i think, yes it is true it is seedy

there are some wooden stairs like a cottage stairs, but they lead up to the stucco building

there is the same mould creeping up the buildings and the same rust running down from the holdings of the drainpipes as i told you about before

i walk past the front

some people are there but they walk away before i get there

i am going to gwenny's to say hi

i don't know if she'll be home either

there is some hissing noise at the school by the park and i think of the fair that elizabeth and i went to where sean's kid harley said "i would like to run in muck

" when sean said, "who wants to go run amok" to him and jackie

we heard an old guys' band play "oh lawrd it's hawrd to be humble whaen yr perfekt in eveerry waaiy

" and we sang along

there are the grey ghosts of the the snow on the mountains and the ski hill lights make me sad

at the corner there is a green wooden box and it purrs and grunts

gwenny is not home

i realise i will have to walk home, because i now want to

i feel like investigating and look for something to investigate

there is a basement apartment and lights on in it

the window isn't too wide, but it is long

there are tools, there is a large magnifying glass that springs out from the wall, there are wrenches and lamps and glues

i walk in closer and i think i see the lights flicker from a television, but there are lights flickering from the television in the apartment above

i see a coffee table and a candle on the coffee table and then a long haired man staring and the reflection of television lights on his face

investigating creeps me out and i get out of there

from the other wall of windows there are drapes and there is the shadow of bamboo on one drape

a baby cries half-heartedly from another apartment

there is the zed on a gate

i used to think that was some sort of red neck symbol that zed on the gate

it used to also creep me out

a lot of things creep me out

i look up and though you can hardly see them the clouds finger in waves like desert sand, like the slush that reminded me of desert sand two weeks ago

i get to fraser and broadway

and i'm taking notes, which is a bad idea, because this is high seed area

but people have their hands in their pockets

and that's kind of interesting, because that's what you do when you're hanging around, you have your hands in your pockets

when it's cold

i hope the ethiopian restaurant is open, i practically pray, because despite the chips i'm hungry

i think, maybe there will be some hangers on and they'll keep it open, but the open sign is not lit and it's dark inside

it is beside a place where elizabeth's friend swede used to live

there is a sign that reads, "due to the noise caused by slamming of the door, please kindly close the door slowly

thanks

" then there is across the street, my friend's old apartment

they don't live there now, but the room is still red

the place a block down beside the phone booth at st

catherines says groceries, coca cola tobacco cafe open now, but the place is closed

there is that pink lit awning that reminds me of the working class part of beverly hills

there may be no such place

mariner's mews it reads

there are lights and decorations red and gold from one of the windows for chinese new year's

i see my breath

i hear the slightest flap and the pole has some loose tape that's losing most of its adhesive

there are chips, paper and an aluminium take out container in the back of someone's car

i cross clark and walk to that laneway i like

it's a bit insane walking along here alone, i think and i am careful, checking behind me and all around

there is a computer monitor and some celophane and plastic lying around

i sit on the chain fence and smell the stench from a sewer grate

it reminds me of the rivers in the ravines i used to play in back home

the gate to the tennis court is open, there are no nets up

i stop sitting

i walk along the laneway

there are blue lights up the railing of the stairs at the back of one house

there are overgrown grasses and an unused car and then i come to the most beautiful thing

there are red fishes painted on this garage, but then there are these three faces made of wire

at first i think they are drawn, but then i realise they are made with wire

they are wonderful, like they've captured these faces in motion

and the faces are the faces of three black people

what is it about this straight wire now on the head of the one man that implies tight tight curls

i don't know, but i can see them

and they may not be there, they aren't there

so i am filling in

so often in other journal writing and fiction

races other than the writer's race are labled and given no cultural context

so i have chosen to not lable and give only cultural context in these pieces

but here is an exception

the rule is limiting

they look like portraits of real people

those people are captured in moments of assuredness, i think

i want to touch the wire

but i can't

i am reminded nothing can get so close so as to be able to touch me

i have to be on my guard here alone

sometimes when i was a kid i would ask my mom something like, "where is the dish towel

" i was at a lower height and couldn't always see things

she might say, "if it had teeth it would bite you

" i was always scared when i was a kid

like i'm scared now

there is a monster in wire on the fence nearby

it's not even scarey

not as moving as the human faces, but not scarey

but i'm scared, i've gotta move and damn if there isn't that fucking zed on the gate, i'm so freaked, i think of all these things that are just strewn here in this laneway and in the backyards and i am so freaking myself out because i'm thinking of the strewn chaos of that farm

i've seen an aerial photograph of tires, and parts of cars and parts of sides of barns and god knows what shit, bones maybe

it's a pig farm

and there is too much shit strewn about to really identify one gawd damn thing

i am making myself sick and this laneway is like a bad dream, it's too long and i can't get out of it

but i hear a buzzing lamp from the street and here is woodland and there are two harmless voices and fuck if i don't love them for being benign

"it's simple and straightforward





hiring





if we could get a guarantee of the weather it would be so nice





victoria is so unpredicable

"

the morning is grey, but it is warmer now than it was yesterday

the snow is gone and there is no rain, not yet

there are still puddles from yesterday's deluge

it is a day for skipping, but of course i walk

my sweety is in mexico

i miss her, but being alone is a familiar aimless feeling

the aimlessness is not exactly true, but alone there is no one else to keep track

i haven't told anyone where i thought i might go today, or what i might do and i won't tell anyone tonight what i did

but then, what is this

i am just walking

i know i should get some breakfast, but i'm not hungry just now

i pass the seto cafe and look inside

i can see the tops of heads seated at the booths above the gathered curtain trims

a young man with a white cane passes me

he is wearing a purple vest with red in it

it's a warm one and the pattern of the material is central american-like

then he is tapping past me

i see the security guard from the credit union and say hi

we aren't on a first name basis yet

he asks where i live

i'm surprised and say just down near twelfth

he thought i looked like i was walking home

i say no, i'm just out for a walk

i ask him where he lives

fraser and thirty-third

i pass wendy and say high at sixth, she looks tired

i am thinking i should get a haircut, but where

i see a girl who all my friends who i met two years ago know

i think her name is julie, in la cabana, a hair salon that used to be owned by olly

it was then called "olly's"

olly still rents a chair, but it is not her place and it is more expensive

i had my hair cut there by this guy from ireland

i've seen him at some fetish events

aside from liking leather pants i don't know what his thing is

not that it's any of my business

i don't want to go in there

i pass third and at the pharmacy on the corner i decide to look for a card for my sister

it was her birthday two days ago and i know i won't find anything here, but it is sometimes fun to look at cards you would never send to anybody

i turn the rack of cards and they are not even close

one says how i never say how much she means to me and i never show her how much i care, but i do

well that won't work

i am overly effusive with my sister

her response often being, "yeah, yeah, whatever

" i go to the larger display along the first aisle

there is a section that says sister, but none of the cards are for sisters

they are supposedly "humourous" cards

there is a cartoon of a dead woman on the floor of a bar

beside her two buddies sitting at the table

the one man is saying, don't take it so hard bill

it really was a funny joke

"bertha laughs herself to death" is the caption

oh great, seventies humour is back

these cards are in the style of gary larson, but are just weird, not twisted

i find the sister cards

i am mostly interested from an anthropological perspective

there are two that joke that only a caring, loving, brilliant sister would be able to open the card and it doesn't open

there is one that says remember how i used to make you so mad

and then the card opens up and it's upside down, "does this bring back memories

" there is a monkey on the inside

there are the epistles that are going to be sappy sweet and perhaps even religious

i don't read them

and then there is this card with cherib bears and rainbows and sparkles that i know will get every where and it says you don't have to have a great excuse to tell your sister you love her, then on the inside it says, you just have to have a great sister

it's true and it's too much

depending on her mood she will love it or she will roll her eyes and shake her head

you probably don't need to know that it made me cry a little

i am so easily manipulated

so i got the card

i am realising that i can either get a haircut or buy the casters and screws to put wheels on my storage box at home

i look in at the cheep haircut place at el mercato mall and the woman i can't stand is cutting hair

i believe the woman i like is never coming back

i walk into a nicer salon two doors down and ask how much for a hair cut

"thirty-five dollars

" thank you i say and i walk out

i go to the hardware store and find the casters

i've admired them before

they have ballbearings and rubber wheels

i pick out the screws i think would be good and go to the counter

"do you think these would be the right screws for these casters

" i ask

"they should do fine," the guy says

i ask for sixteen screws and he gives me two extra

"it's always good to have a few more," he says

i cross the street

a woman with a wooden cane, with a rounded handle walks by

i walk down to the hot pepper cafe

i order a breakfast with eggs over medium

i read about comix and cutbacks in terminal city

i see sonia walking by and think it is safe to go to the co-op to get some bread

she was sick yesterday and i wouldn't want to go in and be asked to work on my day off

a woman and a man are having breakfast in the window

she doesn't know to help herself to coffee, but the owner tells her

the hashbrowns are light and crispy

there was a cafe that burned down a few years ago on broadway, near cambie

cafe 86, i believe it was called

someone i knew said the pan fries tasted like candy

i walk down to the co-op

grab some bread and herring and tomatoes

"you like these things

" maggie asks about the herring

she asks if i'm english

i say, "oh, not even a whole quarter

" i tell her i like them for breakfast, which is sometimes true

i am walking back down the drive

i pass dogs and tell them they are beautiful

they all are

i've seen haida and cosmos, the two ice-coloured eye dogs that both look in the same direction, the fluffy-haired dog of the woman that always says hi to me

and others i don't know, a gorgeous english lab, a sheppard cross, a jack russel, to name a few

down near continental a man approaches me

"excuse me miss can you do me a favour

it won't take a second

" he has a good natured grin on his face, don't get me wrong it's not cute, it's mischievious

i pause to listen

he's a little drunk and he's trying to whisper

it's like he's letting me in on a joke

"do you know the guy panhandling up the street

" i think i know the guy

he has a really nice smile

but he wasn't there on my way down

"yeah," i say

"can you just ask him if he's seen roy bilt

" i look at him strange

"i'm roy bilt

it's my birthday, i'm his brother and he hasn't seen me in months

i'll just walk behind you like this

" he's scrunching his shoulders like you do when you are giggling and he's making a soundless laugh

i say okay

i'm laughing too, it's contagious

i walk up and say hi to the guy, as usual and smile

he's talking to jeff who used to cook at the carnegie

i pause as if just now thinking of it and say as if a little concerned, but not too hopeful, "you haven't seen roy bilt lately have you

" he looks at me seriously

and then turns to his right, "there he is there

" roy's laughing, now i'm laughing, now the guy's laughing

and roy holds his hand out

we shake, laughing and i tell them both to have a good day, "happy birthday," i call back

after i get home i stay in

i put the casters on my box and listen to the radio and read janet frame

the guy across the hall tells me tony wilson et al are at the western front

i've missed it and if some wonderful freak wasn't playing a "fiendishly difficult" kodaly sonata on the radio, i would fall into despondency

the news comes on every few hours

the same thing

teacher's protests in alberta and some frightening news

families of the missing women from the downtown eastside here have been told of an investigation at a farmhouse in port coquiltam

no one has been told anything else

there is a sort of sick sinking feeling i have that i should cherish this lack of knowledge while i still have it



it is two days after our dinner with ali and nasim

what is it that i will remember, what is it that may have been captured in the tired hours after our night together that is lost

i think of how this would sound in an other language, having been inspired by ali reading forugh farrokhzad to me in farsi

april and nasim were listening too

afterwards nasim asked me how it felt to me, the language, what feeling did i get from it

i could not answer

it was like travelling in time by piggyback, and while that is a crude metaphor, it is also true

if we had a more poetic word for piggyback it might be better

but i wasn't taking the steps or touching the ground, ali was

i was moved by how he was moved and i felt closer to my friend

and when i say moved i don't just mean emotionally by meaning

ali had sent me a copy of "another birth" along with a new year's greeting for april and me

we then re-read it together in english

i read outloud

in my e-mail back to him after reading it initially i said i would like to hear it in farsi, at least the second half

there is a part that we particularly like: i will plant my hands in the garden i will grow i know i know i know and swallows will lay eggs in the hollow of my ink-stained hands

when he was reading in farsi he got to the part, "i know, i know, i know," and i knew exactly where we were in the poem and he knew i knew and read it like we were reading together

i remember when i was little i would sit in the rowboat in the "v" on the seat between my father's legs and i would hold the oars that he was rowing with

i wouldn't be able to reach the whole way, so i would let go at the furthest point of the reach and grab on again on the pull in

sometimes i would try to hold on and move off the seat, but that never worked very long, you weren't supposed to move around in the boat

i wasn't helping us move in the least

but i was pulling with my dad's pull and i could feel the resistance and ease of the movements of my dad's arms and body

it was like this with the sounds of the language

ali said she was his inspiration when he was younger

nasim said, her voice was so wonderful, i don't know what is the word to tell you what it sounded like





it was a voice you could listen to for hours

and you can tell she is in rapture thinking about it

a few hours before, april hopped out of a cab

she and my friend elizabeth are proponents of cabs

not that i blame them at all

but when i am with either or both of them it will be one or the other that suggests a cab before i do

in april's case it runs in the family

her grandmother took cabs everywhere and as april tells us tonight during dinner, they called taxi money car fare in my family

it is still snowing, not huge flakes, but little silt flakes that sparkle in the street lamps

i am waiting outside of work with bob

i go over to meet her and introduce the two of them

bob is laughing, because he thought i was going to get in the cab with april

no, i say, we're just walking over to some friends' house a couple of blocks over

we say good bye

leaving bob with his smoke

we go to sweet cherubim's to get some cookies to take over

we are walking up william through the snow

not very many people have shovelled their walks and so it's slow going up the hill

we pass the tree with the lights on it like the arms of the aurora borealis where we can still hear the rush of water and see the ferns

do you want to go over, i ask

no, it's okay from over here, she says

near salsbury april asks me to slow down

she has trouble breathing in the cold

i hope they don't have any cats, i say

april is allergic

we'll if they do they do

i haven't ever heard them say anything about pets, but i forgot to ask

if they had a dog they probably would have talked about it at some point

people talk about their dogs, april says

we are walking very slowly now across william and still april almost slips a little just before the curb

we are looking carefully at the houses

1237 we are looking for

we are close to the turetted house

april points it out

we hit a patch of shovelled walk and sure enough this is the house

we unhitch the latch of the gate

we can't decide if it's up or down

surely ali would have said if it was the basement

it just doesn't look like anyone is upstairs though

it's very dark and there are stickers of children's toys on the sliding door

we walk along the side of the house and in a window we see nasim and ali at their table, eating

i am hoping they have not forgotten that we are coming over

i am hoping i haven't got the wrong night

they're here, i call out

and i wave

i go to the back and knock on the door

in a crowd of greetings and getting up off of chairs and dusting off of snow and pulling off of coats and hugs and taking of coats and shutting of the door we have arrived

"it smells wonderful

" "we started eating

" "i thought maybe you didn't want to come

" "oh no, we are just late, we've been looking forward to this all day

" it is late

we arrive at nine o'clock, fifteen minutes after i had said we would

there is a green l

e

d

clock on the stove

we eat at a table in the kitchen

there are notices and letters posted to the fridge

there are some oils and wines in an alcove above the sink window

i was expecting a chaos of papers and books, but from here the study, the other room, looks very tidy

you must understand i have extremely low standards as far as the tidying of books and papers goes, but still

and mostly there is the food and the company

the talk is of the cuts

ali had gone down yesterday to the pne to the forum of the bc federation of teachers

we discuss the benefits and drawbacks of the recall campaign and the necessity of a general strike

as soon as we sit we are handed food: meat paddies and rice with potatoes crisped on top, pickles too

we pass and receive the dishes, spoon the pickles and rice

our arms and hands are creating a whirl of motion over the table

"oh i love these pickles

" "they're not sweet

" "no, i know, i remember the first time i had these

i had found them at some little store on robson and i bought twenty and gave them away for christmas

i think someone had left theirs behind after kwanza

it sat in my cupboard for maybe a year and then one night i opened them up and tasted one and i was really surprized

i thought they would be sweet

and i ate the whole jar

" "oh yes, they are so good

you can do that

" "small pickles here are usually sweet

" "i remember i was very surprized too when i came here and the pickles were sweet

" ali and nasim talk about northern iran, where they are from

while they talk about the different cultures and the geography of their country i feel like i am listening to the story of how they met

okay, i am an incurable romantic, but i don't think that this perception is unfounded

i mean to ask them how they met, but there doesn't seem to be a place in the conversation for it

ali is turkish and i ask them if they've seen the restaurant that my friends have a block down the street

ali says yes

"they're turkish from turkey

it's quite a different culture

" i sense that this is an understatement

i bring up one of my favourite films

"in english it is translated to say, 'a taste of cherry

'" i describe the film and they know it

"the man in the film, the turkish man

he is very philosophical

that is very turkish

always philosophical," ali says

we go to read the poetry on the computer

nasim's computer, a laptop, sits on a tv tray beside us

we read and discuss the poetry and april and nasim sit on the couch beside us talking to each other

i open a package of chocolate-covered raisins sitting by the computer and eat them

i dole out handfuls to ali and nasim and april

but in the end there is one left

ali dumps the box and the last raisin hits the desk

he lifts the box and i snatch it greedily up and pop it in my mouth

april comes over and i hold her from my seat around her thighs

we get ali to give us a ride

we gather up our hats and coats and bags and say good bye to nasim, say thank you, while ali warms up the car

outside it is still snowing

it takes a lot of rocking back and forth, gunning the engine and cheers of encouragement to get out of the snow and on to the road, which isn't much better

we weave a little

going down charles, past my friends' restaurant, there is a paddy wagon at commercial

it doesn't know what it's doing and just sits at the intersection

we jeer and finally it turns right

we turn left

a few blocks down we see monty from the wise club

he could be coming from the silvertone tavern

i saw him there play harmonica with some slide guitar player once

ali's is a loud car and the stick shift seems to require rough handling, so you really feel that ali is driving this car

in cars that just glide along soundlessly you can feel the driver infused with the power of their position in the car, but they seem unpreturbed by the responsibilities

april and i hold hands through the part between the driver's seat and the passenger's seat

down broadway and in at mclean, we are home

we hug ali, say goodnight and listen to his car drive off toward 7th



walking home from my sweety's tonight there is a dog

he is a thick-haired border collie and he looks a little like a dog i know, pooey

i call pooey's name, but the dog doesn't respond

he is friendly and standing outside a house

is this your house, i say

it starts eating garbage and i say don't do that, and he starts to follow me home

the ice is solid tonight

and it's cold

i don't want him freezing

i'm about to go up my steps and the dog is coming with me

go home, i tell it and it does

it walks up to the corner crosses the street and walks down the street right in front of me

it starts to walk up the stairs and looks at me

i cross the street and go up to the front doors

they are very dark and i'm scared

there are vines crossing the bottom of the door, but there are also steps worn up to the door through the ice

i look back and the dog isn't there

i come down the stairs and there it is

it leads me to the back of the house, which is better lit, and to some stairs and a door

i knock on the door

after a while i hear a door inside open and some shuffling

the door opens

"hello" "hi

is this your dog

" "yes

" "ok" "thanks for looking out for him

" "no problem

" the dog is still sitting in the snow when i leave the backyard

earlier this morning i am at breakfast at the seto cafe

it is just beside the van east theatre

the waitress asks if i am waiting for my friend

"no, april's not coming

" i order the breakfast special

i am reading the paper

chretien tore a strip off one of the mps in his party for pointing out all the secretaries of state were white males

and colin powell seems to be of discenting opinion at the whitehouse, wanting the "detainees" at guantanamo bay treated as pows

gordon campbell still running with scissors

three guys walk in one after each other

2-2-2 the first one calls out after saying hi to the waitress

2-2-2 says the next, 2-2-2 calls out the last

they pass me and grab the table behind me

the waitress says, not the breakfast special

to one guy

no 2-2-2

they talk about offing gordon campbell over breakfast

"





sink him to the bottom of the lake

" "he just can't be allowed to get away with this

" they eat their breakfasts quickly and leave to go back to work

i keep reading

some older men come in and sit at the table across from me

one man changes his order from a coffee to a coke and i'm wondering if he will start to become obnoxious over it

they don't

but they are the sort of men who think it's fun to tease waitresses

blah, blah, blah

"





that jewish man

" i stare blatently

"wasn't he a lawyer

" "no he was a stockbroker

" they aren't shutting up

blah, blah, blah

a woman sits with perfect posture, dressed in a black dress with black stockings and black winter boots with a furry lining

she sips her coffee and has a saucer with egg leftovers in it in front of her

her grey hair is nicely pinned back in a roll

two young men are sitting between her and the three older men and the man of the family that has this restaurant is reading the paper on the other side of the room

"blah blah blah





the jewish kid

" i glare at the men and decide to just leave

as i'm paying, the waitress asks me if my friend is working today

yes, i say



remember the night i stopped in to visit my friends at the cafe on charles

this is the party

the one jeremy invited me to last week

you can check, if you want to

it's all part of the story

so sonia and i from the store go to the party

there is a construction reflector jacket on the passenger's side of the car, draped over the shoulders of the seat

my sister and i used to play ice cream counter and the person in the front seat would make the pretend ice cream cone and the person in the back would order their favourite flavour

we looked through the adjustable opening between the seat and the head rest, which we raised as high as it would go with out coming off, which it sometimes did

we weren't usually allowed to order anything but vanilla, in real life, since we would spill the ice cream and dirty our cloths

later i discovered cherry custard, another flavour that wouldn't stain our clothes and for a long while it was my favourite

can i just tell you that the snow is really coming down

the hydro poles and wires are covered outside my window and through one of the trees the light from the lamp shows the shimmering snow

it has been like this most of the night

so we get to the party

sonia just comes in to say good bye, it is jeremy and tanya's going away party

i stay

there is stacia, peter, maggie and yarrow

i would have to step over the back of this pew-like-bench to sit with them, so i say hi and wave

i haven't seen stacia since the summer, during which time i was often giving love advice, based on other loves and love advice i'd had given to me

since you must know, it was a question of why wouldn't this boy kiss her

he would come into the store and you could practically hear the moonlight sonata burst in with a thirty piece orchestra (i don't know if there are thirty pieces in an orchestra

i'm just making this up)

their eyes would meet and you could practically feel radiation from the rush of the blood to their respective capillaries

a few others in the store would get girlish, no offence to us girls, because it wasn't even a girl i'm talking about, anyway, a few others in the store would get girlish and let everyone know that stacia's crush was here

me: would you keep it down

other: what's so wrong

i think it's great

don't you think it's great

me: sure it's great, but you don't have to get everyone so excited

other: i just think it's good for her to have something like this

i must admit i get squeemish when other people become involved in budding love

i think it jinxes it

he wouldn't kiss her

she would kiss him, but he wouldn't kiss back

i called him big-moon-eyes-no-action

but if you knew stacia, you would know he was just plain crazy

i have a terrible cold and so the words i picked up tonight are a mere interpretation of muffled aquarium noises

almost everyone had finished eating when i arrived and i sat down after saying hello at the table jeremy was sitting at with his family

i knew sean and we talked a little about his music, things are going well, he has steady work, he's putting out one or did he say two albums

his face is fuller and he has a little scraggley bit of facial hair

he talks about living with young kids and i wonder if they are his girlfriend's and they probably are, i think

the people beside us have ordered a plate of food that looks wonderful, with dips and dolmas, and salads and beans

i decide i will have that and wait till the right moment to order

it is an illusion, the right moment, but there are some moments that are unnecessarily uncomfortable and i have found i shouldn't try to do things like order food during them

they pass

and then i do ask my friend for a small plate of what they're having and she takes me to the counter to pick out what i would like on the plate

i pick everything, but she says maybe only a few things

she can't fit everything on the plate

i pick the beans and the humous and the red salad and the dolmas and she stops me again

that should be enough

of course she's right

i ask for some tea, they have linden blossom tea

i think, it will be lovely

i sit down and feel like i've accomplished something

i tell the nice people i'm sitting with i've ordered a small plate like them

i really don't know what to say tonight

i think we talked a little, not forced and not uncomfortable silences

stacia is coming over and i will get to talk to her, but first she stops and talks to jeremy's parents and then his sister

she is leaning against that pole there

cynthia comes in and i tell her to steal sean's seat

he's talking by the counter and he can always steal it back

i tell her i've seen her sister-in-law and niece

lucky you, she says

i didn't even know she was back

yep

i didn't know they had gotten back either and was surprised to see her myself

the food is good i am eating the humous

the red salad is a pomagranet salad

it is as good as only you can imagine

with the headaches comes waves of lights and sounds

people are talking and it's like the moment at a wedding when you feel completely apart from life, hearing the sounds, seeing people move too fast or too slow, and suddenly a wave of laughter hits you like almost everyone is laughing at once, although you can see the mouths of some people closed or just talking

tanya is talking to some people and at that moment a car coming from the laneway outside, its' headlights hit the window and light it up like some amazing backdrop

what with the condensation on the window it almost looks like an explosion at a rock show

tanya is silhouetted from where i look with this light from the window radiating all around her

the light traces movements as broad as the spanning of her arms and as small as her mouth closing for a consonant

as you may know, tanya is a poet

the etceteras abound

and as you may know poetry is about conveyance and movement and particularity

the etceteras abound again

and this is what she is shown to me to be then

stacia comes over and we catch up

she's happy

hanging with other artists, going on romantic artistic adventures daily and making art

i ask her if she has any shows coming up

she says there is always a show at the university

i want to get up off my seat to talk face-to-face, but i am too weak and she tells me to sit down

she asks where april is and i tell her she's working and getting over a cold

she is noticably happy to hear we are still together

she has another crush

they paint together

he is a wonderful man she says

there are tea lights all around the room

i give jeremy a postcard for the situ site

i tell him he's already in it

he is confused

i tell him they are my stories and he later will ask me am i really in it and i will tell him yes, do you remember the night i stopped in here when you were closing up

he remembers the time i resited a poem of mine in the back room at work

that was so amazing, he says

i don't know what to say

my friends never cease to amaze me, he says

stacia and i go over to where yarrow, maggie and peter are sitting

someone is telling a story about when a tape worm jumped out of her ass

it could not stand the intolerable conditions and just jumped out

"i was on the phone

i screamed, oh my god oh my god oh my god

'what's wrong, what's wrong

' 'i can't tell you, frank it's so horrible

' it was like a little pin worm, just writhing

about this long

" we are all fascinated

now that's a story, says yarrow

people ask questions

i say that they used to give women dormant tape worms to "help" them lose weight

yarrow says, they did that in elizabethan times, a tape worm egg

to make them skinny

she makes a circle with her fingers

she tells us about a book four hundred years old her dad has that has recipes for black hair dye made from a specific oil and the blood of a specific kind of lizard

there was also a recipe for lead face powder

he has hidden the book

hidden the book

i say

uhmm

he knows i would just flip through it recklessly, says yarrow

at some point that evening i go get a coffee

there are two women who hadn't seen each other in a while

"it's so good to see you

" "where's





" "oh no, that was just that night

" "oh he was just your little boy toy

" "little boy toy

that's so funny

yes they're always just fluttering about" "flutter flutter

" "well flitting maybe

" sal makes me my coffee

i think about smiles, because he smiles at me and then he smiles at me as if he is remembering the socks and i wonder if people have slightly different smiles for every person they recognize

but i don't wonder this at the time

it is later and i am sitting with the nice people whose dinner order i copied talking about the silt of the turkish coffee

i am thinking and watching sean and another guy set up the guitars

i hear the guitar being tuned

the band plays a tune called green tea ice cream

tanya comes up and thanks everyone for coming

and the band plays again

jeremy is playing the congas and sean is on bass

the three other people i don't know

i call april from the bathroom

she is home and tired, she can't come

we say good night

i look at my nose in the mirror

i get tired and say good bye to jeremy

my friends who own the restaurant are outside

she is getting cold and goes inside

i say good night and walk home down commercial

the ice has mostly cleared away and it is not raining or snowing

the video store has a grey coloured hand scraping some sand

there is an ice spot near the liquor store

the cars have snow on them

i am just planting one foot in front of the other

tired

somehow i am crossing 7th and i look back

the man who runs the theatre is sitting there in the same seat as he was last week

he is holding his head, just the tips of his fingers to the left side of his head

his head is tilled toward his hand

it is a delicate hold, not a weighted heaviness to his head, but almost as if he is hold the pieces of that part of his head together

it is eleven-o-five

the movie that started at nine-twenty is probably still in

he is looking into the darkened consession stand

i leave him there and walk home



the lights are darker in elizabeth's neighbourhood

there just aren't as many of them

we are out walking macko, (pronounced mawtsko) in the slush, hoping the snow will come down again

earlier we were watching from elizabeth's table, having tea with mareka neni, rosehip tea

elizabeth translates as mareka neni tells us her troubles

i am old, she says when elizabeth is in the bathroom

sixty-two

she holds up two fingers

her skin is translucent and she has brown circles around her eyes

she works very hard and is afraid to lose her job

without english how would she find another one

"jaj" she says

1-2-3, elizabeth says, "jaj" we all say giving the word, with the vibratos in our voices, at least four or five sylables

she asks me to describe what this project is about and i tell her about neighbourhoods, familiarity, oddities, observations, meaning, significance and insignificance

elizabeth translates

mareka neni asks about politics and criticism and elizabeth stops translating and starts talking

i look out at the snow and the encroaching fog swallowing the downtown

mareka neni tells us about coming to ontario from hungary

she was never in her life so scared of nature

she tells about getting caught in a snow drift with deep ditches

they were getting cold she and her son and then he comes up with the only solution he can think of

we'll try to follow the guide of the wire poles

what do you call them, not wire poles

elizabeth asks

hydro poles, i say

just then a snow remover comes along and saves them

i am thinking of the other natural disasters that ontario has to offer

i try to say in hungarian, did you ever see a thunderstorm

"jaj," she holds her head, and it smashed in windows and ripped off peoples' roofs and i was so scared i hid in the basement

i try to ask where she lived

hungary, she says

no in ontario, says elizabeth

stratroy

"stratford

" i ask

nem, stratroy

oh, strathroy

we both describe the farmland to elizabeth in our two languages

she says it was cute, but terrible

once it was forty above and they decided to go for a walk at night, to cool down

she shrugs her shoulders as if to say, doesn't that sound like a perfectly nice idea

"jaj" they get out there and then there are these bugs three inches long

i missed in the translation if they were falling from the sky as june bugs sometimes do or if they had found them already fallen

she went back to hungary and her family moved to vancouver so she would come to live with them

there are financial troubles

old lady pains

family troubles

the weather

all to which we say in unison, jaj

mareka neni insists she is not just complaining

she uses the word, which means woe as in woe is me, like you use the word and

is there a word like that in english

elizabeth asks

woe, i say

no, that people use instead of and

anyway, i say

we are disatisfied, it conveys none of the meaning, but mareka neni talks about a tutor of hers in english that said, anyway, anyway, anyway, all the time

elizabeth and i talk of using "jaj" all the time now, spreading it around, "we would have to spell it y-o-y, or else they would all be saying "jaj"

outside now, we are disappointed

there is no falling snow, only tracks in slush and water sinking through the cracks in our shoes

that's it for the snow, says elizabeth

macko takes his dump

a small one

is this at all enjoyable

elizabeth asks

no, i answer, let's turn back

we walk back to the corner and we say goodnight

i am only half a block from the corner when it starts to snow again

i wonder if elizabeth is still outside at the dumpster chucking macko's shit, but i know that by the time i get back there she will be back upstairs

i have to get home anyway, i have a sore throat and my arms feel like lead

i cross at kingsway and 7th

walking up kingsway there is black mould creeping up the buildings

the drainpipes are dented and bent and the holdings are rusted

the snow is coming down in flakes and mostly all i can look at is my feet

steps are unsure and puddles abound

there are crosses, lines, circles, shuffle marks in the prints that repeat themselves

i pass the iron gates of the closed student employment office

at kingsgate mall the bushes are blanketed and soft

people are waiting for the buses

one man is dragging his friend out from under the awning to experience the snow falling on his face

he doesn't want to and while they laugh, they also struggle

one woman with a scarf pulls her shoulders up to her ears

i think of a time five years ago i walked home drunk from a party

i had left without my coat and one of my shoes

i was upset about trees being chopped down

that was it

just the trees

i was drunk and this was so overwhelmingly upsetting that i just ran out of the party

i cried and wailed on a bus bench at clark and broadway, but realized that i didn't want to draw unfavourable attention to my self at three in the morning and decided to shut myself up and continue

i walked the same way i am walking back, more or less, falling down every twenty steps or so and picking myself up out of mud or just the cement

i noticed a car notice me and started running

crashing and falling, i took the laneway at fraser along broadway till lido, that dry goods place that no one seems to shop at

i had lost them

i kept on my way and made it home

i was a little bruised up

i dropped out of elizabeth's arms onto the living room floor with a thud and she took me to my room

at fraser i notice the snow and slush in a different way

there are pock marks where splashes from the cars have pierced the surface of the snow

"if you want to go to solembee they're open till four

" there is a drunk man the owner of a pizza place is trying to get to go away

i haven't heard properly the name of the place he is directing him, but i have heard the rest

there are others inside eating pizza

under the green lights it reads, family haircuts

the top of the t and s are peeling from the window

there are lots of cups, cardboard transfers on the sidewalk and some of it has been there a while having been turned to a mucky pulp beside the fermented brown leaf pulp

a man in a red jacket walks down the other side of broadway, he turns on catherine

there is a young girl on the phone with her boyfriend there

she has no jacket, but he does and it is also red

she is handling the conversation on the phone

he is close enough to be involved, but not telling her what to say or anything

she gets off the phone and stands there flapping her arms talking to him

she seems excited and cold and they turn down catherine and out of sight

there is a park before clark, the skaters' park

there is a path worn through the snow, it looks hard

there is a small dip, water has pooled and i jump

i hear what sounds like a girls laugh at the bowl

i remember a science teacher, mr

hobbs, told us it was quieter in the winter, that sounds didn't travel as well because the particles in the air were moving slower

i thought he was wrong: that even if the slower particles slowed the travelling of sound, the sounds seemed to bounce off snow, and weren't absorbed by mud and grass or summer leaves

one guy is watching and one guy is riding through the snow up and down the sides of the bowl

he is laughing maniacally, a high laugh and leaving tracks in the snow with the scraping of his fingers

at the playground there are about seven kids not very young

one girl is holding the rungs of the top of a slide and is trying to run up the little slide and is slipping

someone who is further away says, let's make a snowman

the kids are laughing

it's scarey the girl on the slide says

then another girl throws snow at her back

i run across clark

i cross that same park i followed the bike and pedestrian tracks through the other night

there is a big water filled pothole and a car's tracks in that laneway

half a block from home a tag pinned to a young tree reads, water please

crossing the last corner i can see my home

the lights and the heater are on

the slush is deeper and crunchy underfoot

i don't mind the flowing ice and water at the curb, these wet shoe's will soon be off

i think of my boss telling me last week to pick up the plastic ties that wrap the meat boxes

it's disconcerting to step on them, they think they've broken something, he says

that is not what the slush feels like under my feet



i am walking home from dinner at my friend bobbie's

her cat, 'mungus, took a fall down the stairs and at eighteen year's old it is hard to tell if the meowing is pain or just his regular elderly complaints

we kept an eye on him and tried shave the shit off his butt, seeing as his bowls were loose, from the fall or the cortezone shot, also hard to say

there was a foggy memory of some nick-name we called macko, elizabeth's dog

szarnodrag, "shit-pants" in hungarian

i tell bobbie

we eat pizza and salad

she tells me about an old friend we have lost contact with

i remember the time i made the most perfect rice i have ever made

i had bobbie, our friend, and byron over

we ate it with a thai curry i had made

our friend said, this is the best food i have ever tasted

i almost choked with embarrassment and bobbie said, oh, come on

our friend did not concede to our questioning of her hyperbole

we all enjoyed a lovely meal

i come out of the house bundled as always, there is some snow, mostly slush that will turn to jagged ice if it freezes tonight

but for now it slurps under my feet as i walk carefully down the stairs

good night

take care

i walk down semlin toward georgia

there are so many more footprints than that night i told you about saturday

it has been snowing along with rain and freezing rain all day, but now there is nothing, precipitation-wise, falling down on me

the curb holds a lot of slush and i step over it and cross the tire tracks of the road

a car and two cyclists pass by

there are more trees as i walk down semlin

i pass a grey-haired man and say hello

he looks as if he will look at me then looks away, so i look away and our eyes do not meet

he does not say hello and we pass

i wonder if i looked away too quickly

i wonder if he did look at me or as he was going to look at me saw me looking away and didn't look

i realise it is only ten o'clock and some people might not be feeling as familiar as some might later on

some people still have their christmas lights up

one very comfortable looking living room has an orange lamp

a tall house to my right has lights turned off, except for the two up on the third story

i realise people are probably settling in to bed

i turn at william a friend of mine lives further on down william, closer to brittania

i think i visited a friend of a friend on this street years ago

the people were living in a downstairs apartment

there is a row house with wood siding you can tell has been around for a long time

beware of dog

there is a light on on an upstairs porch

a sign on the side of the building reads: "tito is missing reward

"tito is much loved and sorely missed

he needs to go to the vet for his eyes which were badly swollen the day of his dissappearance

he's a big scared sweetheart, and will come to you with coaxing

call us anytime if you see him

the funny thing is is that i was thinking about the old yugoslavian man who comes into the store

i asked him how he was one day, before i knew him, and he said, i can't complain

then you must not be hungarian, i said

he had told me at the till that he was yugoslavian the time i'd met him before

he didn't laugh and basically ignored my joke, but we have been friendly since

i found it interesting that he introduced himself to me as yugoslavian

younger countrymen of his have specified a culture within the nation when i've met them

i had been wondering what he would think about tito

i will never ask such a direct question

but i can ask him about that time

he will be going back to visit in the spring if all goes well

perhaps he was involved in the second world war, but i have learned not to ask direct questions about that either

i cross victoria, pass the little grocery store and keep walking toward commercial

in one lawn there is a shower rod that is supposed to be supporting a young tree

it seems though to be weighing it down

two doors down there are two snow people

perhaps one is meant to be a woman

it has dried grass for hair and a stick for a nose and stones for eyes

the bald snow person beside it has two arcs of sticks for arms, and it looks like it is dancing making embracing arm circles

they are staring straight ahead like you might see in an old photograph

but they are not close enough, not even for a couple from the last turn of the century

they look apart

at salsbury i look back

the turret is looking over my shoulder

of course i come to that garden

the lights in the trees look like the arms of the aurora borialis

the snow covers the ferns, moss, grasses

there is a light rushing of water

someone is sleeping in the door of the breakfast place

further up i see cliff, my sweety's friend and i stop at fets to say hi

i order a peppermint tea, he is drinking white wine, and we chat a little

i tell him about writing for a project that's coming up

i wonder if he is wondering if april and i are still together and i let him know she's sick with a cold, but otherwise wonderful

we exchange christmas and new year's stories a man asks him for a smoke

he says he can't tonight

the man holds a pregnant pause and then says, why

i just can't

the man growls lightly and takes a few steps and reaches for the ashtray for butts

he can't reach and climbs up on the railing and reaches over for it

i watch people walk by in the window at fets

i am not picking up detail, just tempo

people walk by with business or just wanting to get out of the night

a van's back door slams

the waitress asks me if i would like more water for my tea, i say, no i have to make it home

we laugh

in the kitchen of the restaurant at kitchener someone is sipping water maybe out of a beer mug, the liquid is clear

he is the only one in the restaurant

there is a letterbox in one of the door ways

perhaps it is not a letter box, it looks more like a dog door with a latch lock on it except the door goes into the wall

there is a man drawn in black felt pen on the door with a upc code on his forehead

at the video store princess leia looks over hans solo's shoulder in some space vehicle

a sign tells people to bring empties to the outside window in the back

just before kitchen corner someone wrote, fuck the liqour store

there is a symbolically drunk face, with the crossed out eyes drawn in the same blue

across the street at deja vu there is this high pitch buzzing, it is quiet and as i pass it i notice the quieter sounds of the awnings dripping and the hollower drips down the drains

a woman stares at me strangely for writing as i walk

four people come toward me spaced out like the night of the living dead

they are walking fast though and pass me

"





bastard" "look at the colour

" someone is showing off a lighter i think

at starbucks someone is bent toward a bag another one is holding out, the bent guy crumples the bag as he reaches in

the man behind the counter at the coffee shop yawns

down the street i hear regae

i stop outside cafe deux soleil and listen to some tunes

people are outside smoking and laughing, "shut up

shut up

" he says good naturedly kind of like he's keeping the talk going

i watch the painted wall across the street

it's all different colours like a rainbow even in the dark

i can't pull out my notepad

that would make people uncomfortable including me

guys and their girlfriends get out of cars

the guys know each other the girlfriends look bored when they aren't talking to the guys they are with

two people are singing with the song as they come up the street

they go in

i rest my back against the rail and nod my head with the music

i carry on

i get past grandview

sunday night this part of commercial was blocked by police cars

rosin told me tuesday as we walked home a pedestrian was killed

there are no flowers tonight

we will both be looking for them

surely somebody knew this person



i walk past the headlines at the magazine store

the canadian ones feature the walkerton inquiry and harris, the premier, takes the blame for the 7 deaths and the illness of thousands others in the small town near my aunt and uncle's place

their water was allowed to have poisonously high levels of e coli and was most dangerous to kids and the elderly

there is a picture of harris, red faced and pursed-mouthed

there is emotion there, it is contained and i can't determine the emotion, but it's there

discomfort at the least

the man who knew about the high levels of contamination was put on suicide watch for days after the outbreak of deaths and illnesses

it is dark and the store is closed

the cafe next is open though

a man in a dirty orange coat writes, two gentlemen guffaw and two girls drink their coffee

one has been looking at me looking at the writing guy

i look into her eyes looking at me and feel rude

"mud

" i hear some guy mutter

i think, mud

what mud

i think, thick as mud, although the expression is clear as mud, and wonder if it is a downer or something

i think of someone selling actual mud

then i realise, yes, i am practically deaf

he must have said bud

"spare a little change, sir

" "sorry

" "thanks anyway

have a good night

" i decide to see if anne and wade are home

i walk down gravely, the street

passing avanti's i hear the voices and laughter of people and think they could be there, but keep going

i remember anne telling me about coming to vancouver from montreal

they took her to avanti's and she thought it was a bad joke

when she realised they were more or less serious, that this could be a place you would go for a drink, she was horrified

there are crocuses i think in a little bunch on someone's yard

i get to the corner and read the sign painted on the aluminium siding of the house, "please





don't steal our plants

" anne and wade aren't home, so i go back to avanti's they aren't there

there are people there

a middle aged woman that is sitting away from the table of men she's with, a young woman with a not very blurred look, and an old man with a very long chin

i don't think i saw one person lift a glass to his mouth, but i didn't stay

i pass arctic meat processors with the "fresh young rabbits $5

89/lb" sign

i went in there earlier today to ask for some pig or beef blood for an art project

i am not an artist, just so you know, but i get ideas sometimes

the woman behind the counter said she didn't think so and called out to the man at the cash

he had a white apron on that was not very messed

he looked at me, looked back at her and told her no

i thanked them, but left promptly

i was unable to find any on the drive and have abandoned the "project

" i look into calabria, anne and wade aren't there

the last place they might be that i'll look is nuff nice ness

a man is coming from a car

a shorter man says something i can't hear, he is facing away from me

the taller man, facing me says, "you have

how much

" nuff nice ness is closing and anne and wade are not there

it is starting to rain lightly, nothing much, but i decide to go home

there is a car down my laneway home with headlights on and i pass by and take the street

i see my downstairs neighbour by the side of the house

he's cleaning the litter box for mia, it's his job he explains

he got it because pregnant women aren't supposed to clean litter boxes, the babies don't have the immunity to cat germs or something

their kid is a year and a bit

i call my sweety we tell each other about our days and i make french toast

i want to go over to jill's place

so i call her and she says come over

i stall a little finishing my late night breakfast and she calls back and says, oh good, you're not gone

she wants me to get a few vancouver suns, maybe three for the price of one at a box

i tell her i'll try

by the time i get out there it's really raining

i've got lots of layers on, but i've forgotten my scarf

i tie the drawstring around my hoody tighter and carry on

the folks at the solo market are closed, but i see the wife there

the mac's next door is well lit

i find a sun box and i can't steal extras because there is just the one

that's fine

i tuck the paper down my pants

it's cold against my stomach, but i know it will warm up

i remember in one of those laura ingles wilder books she meets up with some other settlers, or want-to-be-settlers, because neither laura's family or her new friends have a place, they're crossing paths

her friend gives her some soda biscuits or something that she's kept warm by keeping them tucked against her stomach, but laura's mom doesn't let her eat them because she thinks they'd be dirty

i remember feeling ripped off at this point in the reading

why did she let her mom know about the biscuit

she must have known her mom wouldn't let her eat them, if she had tried them in secrecy she would have at least been able to say what they tasted like

i keep walking

my posture is really straight because this paper wouldn't let me slouch

the rain is coming down in sheets and it's pretty around the street lamps

some of the restaurants are packed and loud and others have a few people talking seriously and some empty seats, the owner of harambe drives up and parks

a man looks at me from his table

i run into rachel further up

she introduces me to mike and some one else

he tells me he had a friend once and really messed that up

i say, it's better to have had a friend and lost, than never to have had a friend at all

it's not very funny

two steps after i say good bye this customer from the co-op is getting on his bike

i say hi, he asks how my life is

i say, good

yours

he says fine, a little bit wet, and drives off in his damp corderoys

down by the park i think i can smell the cedar trees

music is playing to a few people further down

i start to want to be out of the rain

down at clark and venables a car runs my light and inches away from the drivers window i yell, "hello

" i cut through the parking lot and on to union

there are trees further down and the droplets look like silver blossoms

when i open my little canvas bag to get out my note pad to jot that down, the droplets, by bag is wet and frozen stiff

it's cold

i get to jill's and ring her up

i stare at the wire grates in front of the window

jill calls down from the third floor

just a second

i feel like a wet rapunzel, but then i realize that jill would be rapunzel, i would be the prince

there is a man and a woman in a running car having a conversation

the inside light is lighting the mans face

i guess he is listening

he's looking at the woman's face anyway

jill comes back to the window

i'll throw you down the keys

out flies a faded purple pillow

it lands softly, they're tucked inside the flap, jill says

i find them and let myself in

the man is nodding now, perhaps he has stopped listening

inside i peal off the wet layers

we are going over stuff for a reading tomorrow, but mostly i wanted a walk

she shows me an article about ann, and as i start to read it ann comes in

she takes the article away from me

she says it's really awful, i don't need to read it

jill and i laugh

ann makes us coffee and tells us about dinner

it sounds like it was nice, but weird

there were some people she knew and others who knew people she knew

it wasn't superficial, but i really can't get too involved getting to know people i'm never going to see again in my life, she says

it's snowing out

there are dried hydrangia and other flowers on the table, jill takes a penicillan and checks it off on her list

jill puts the article back in front of me when ann leaves the room, you can read it if you want she laughs again

jill and i talk about where we grew up

i tell her about this project

walks you go on

big walks

no, not really

oh okay, so you don't mean to toronto or something like that, just in the city

yeah, just around the city

i put on my wet clothes and blow kisses to jill

when i get outside it is really snowing

there is a parked car running at the corner, three people, but no driver are waiting inside

there is rain and snow, but the snow is covering the sidewalks and the plants in the yards

i realise my feet will be soaked soon, i'm walking in slush

the trees look really pretty now, the snow is turning to ice on the branches

there are no people down union only warehouses and snow and rivulets of water

i turn down clark

at parker i notice some footprints

i'm following them down clark, but after william there are more footprints and it is harder to distinguish them

there is wild grasses and cedar yearlings covered in snow among bluish stones

cars pass by fast, spraying water

there are so many auto collision shops

air conditioning, refills, repairs, installations, retrofit

tags in baby blue, black, red, wine, black and white, yellow, green, purple

a guy approaches

hello, i greet

he points with his mouth

by granview i hear an ambulance siren

i wait at the corner

the rivulets of water by the curb have shaped the slush to look like the waves in a desert

i think that ambulance siren sounds like it's on another street so i cross, but i'm wrong and it passes

at great northern way an unmarked police car hiccups its lights at the ambulance and turns them off and follows

i think ambulance chaser and laugh because that has nothing to do with it

i can see the city lights downtown

i look down the tracks at the bridge

there is a mud hill used by the construction workers of the new skytrain

up that hill hundreds of footsteps are covered, but not obscured by the snow

i think of the word trudge

a light is on in someone's house, the venetian blinds are shut

i am near broadway and a few blocks from home

i turn up the laneway and follow a pair of footsteps again

i see the steps backtrack and then bike tracks go alongside the footprints

i wonder if this is a bike theft, since the biketracks start beside the concrete wall

i follow them up a ways

there is a big barn-like garage and i start looking at the garages

but now i've lost the tracks

i back up and they've gone into the park, i follow them through the park and up the street

a smoker paces on a lawn, we are still being rained and snowed on

a man turns into a house

the tracks are leading me right to my front door

i see them carry on toward commercial

up the street i see a guy and what i think is a dog

i step up the stairs and i'm home



the laneways are well lit in most places around here and so it's not too scary to go for an evening stroll, which is what i did

i didn't really have any destination, but i wanted to find my way home at some point

i took off and anna asked me, where are you going

for an evening stroll, i said

she had offered me a ride and said suits me, the sooner i get home the sooner i can light up a smoke

i walked past the dumpsters i empty boxes and garbage into about ten times a day and of course they look different from the other side, smaller and more personified, like they are just sitting there

so i look up the intersecting alley and there are some headlights, there is a cat, brown and grey looking, scurrying along the fence of the tall house they just painted maroon three months ago

it is dark and cold and i have many layers on and a hat, scarf and mits

the laneway bends on the next block, and some guys are sitting out smoking from the restaurant

i don't want to say hi, i'm not warmed up yet and i'm not looking for trouble

i'm glad to see them though, because a guy, standing by the tree just before this lane started, commenced walking as soon as i'd passed him

i looked back when i was near the smoking guys and he was no where to be found so that was good

two blocks down and i'm at charles

some friends of mine own the new restaurant there and i hope they can make it go, because a lot people haven't been able to

they have some nice dolmatas

i tried them with some bread like my mom used to make our sandwiches with, dense with grains

my friend jeremy, who is going to cuba and surrounding islands with his girlfriend for a year, maybe more, to live and make music and write, i haven't actually talked to him about their plans much, but i think we get the idea, anyway, jeremy was there talking and they were closed and i thought, i have to be on my way, i'm on an evening stroll

their place is so warm looking, yellow, and the three of them were talking in the centre of the space i could see they were laughing and sometimes i think, what do i have to say that would make anyone laugh and i kept walking

the light enclosed them

but of course i didn't get more than a few steps before i wanted to say hi and got over my shyness

i knocked on the window, just to say hi and made like i would just be on my way and my friend waved me in after she recognised me, which might have been difficult seeing as i was bundled up

hey, everyone says, hugs all around and i meet sal

of course i don't ask for the spelling of his name, i feel slightly covert

we have met before

he served me the dolmatas that time, i say, yes we've met, you served me dolmatas and bread

oh, he says

i check the cooler, i know there was something else i ate that time, there were some sundried olives, yes, but there was also something else i ordered

i don't see it, in fact i'm not really looking because everyone is laughing

you check the cooler to see if it was sal that served you, says my friend

of course that is absurd and i pretend it is true

i get an invitation to jeremy's going away party, hosted at this place and say great, ironically, like i'm happy he's going

i am, for him, not to be rid of him

i'll really be celebrating

we are all laughing

they are just leaving, but jeremy is telling them about some turkish musicians they might be interested in for a festival they are involved with

it was a card jeremy had seen in his address book and he doesn't have it here

i ask them if they know something called reptiles

oh yes burju, we were at her birthday party, they are having their final performance, burju is the creator, preserver and destroyer

she doesn't indicate whether she means of their music or of something bigger and i laugh

her party was wonderful, says my friend, she was performing, well she wasn't performing, but she was performing

outside we are waiting for everyone to come out there are seven of us

we pass around a smoke and there is a bag of laundry, i can see socks

is that what you roll the dolmatas in

i ask

they pretend it is, but i find out that it is the laundry they did a week ago, forgot about and found today

it was not completely dried, that's okay, it's only socks

jeremy asks me if i've seen waking life, i have i said, it was beautiful i say

will i be confused

he asks

you are already confused says my friend

what

he laughs

she explains: if you do not understand you are already confused

we laugh

there is a marker for an old lady who hung out on the drive till she died in her eighties and i've never seen it there before

the guy who is handing out georgia straights says he first noticed it there five years ago

they are all getting in the car

i say good bye

get in the car, aren't you getting in the car

i say, no i'm out for an evening stroll

down the drive the vegetables are stowed inside, the stools are up on the benches and a man presses cellophane to seal the rims of the sauce containers

there is a sports station that flashes more sports in a second than i can catch, but there is boxing and basketball, and the video store has a film playing, the scene is red, the woman is held by the arms, there are three men, she tosses her head and mouths "merde"

"shit" reads in white subtitles underneath her

i look for a phone booth so i can call my friends sarah and kelly

they have one year olds, twins and i haven't seen them in ten months

i walk through the el mercato mall and can't find a phone booth, some one read the jobs section of a free paper and i go into the grocery store

i've just passed one outside, dial the phone with my mits on and no one answers

i leave them a message: in the neighbourhood





thinking of you





would be nice to see you





hope you are all well





my number





talk soon

they are nice people

they have three dogs if fraya has made it this far, labs

they only have two cats

i once told them i felt really welcome in their home

i did spend a few nights on their couch when i was a little unhinged

or more accurately to rehinge

i decide to go to my friend louise's house

i lived there for a while and even if they aren't home i can get in and use their washroom

i really had to pee and i thought i would try and find some bush to hide behind, but there wasn't one

there is so much concrete in this laneway and it is so well lit

i knew there would be grass once i got to the first street house, but the fence is gone and when i went to crouch in the shadows some guy opened the sliding door two doors down and i was afraid he could see me, so i held my crotch for a few steps and kept walking

at lakewood there were two black stretch limos, i don't know what they were doing, but i had to hold my crotch again and then i realised that at the very least the chauffer behind the tinted windows must have seen

yeah, sure, i was mortified, hardly

two doors from 2162 i realise there is borscht waiting for me

steve came to the co-op and asked what to make for dinner

he had indicated he had a guest

i suggested borscht and got the moosewood cookbook that i've been keeping there

people ask me what to eat and like a tarot reading i tell them what they could eat and how to make it

they usually take my suggestions and like their meals and then they tell me about it some other day

i knock on their door and after a while i let myself in

steve comes out and i ask if i can use the washroom

after i piss and wash my hands i give louise a hug and take her offer of a muffin

kirsten, the flute player who moved to england somewhere was over for dinner

steve offered me some borscht and i told everyone i knew there would be borscht waiting for me

steve and i laugh

we explain

submission hold is planning to have a reunion party and concert in the house later in the week

we talked about the closing prisons, possible privatisation

i suggest we apply to own a prison

wouldn't it be great if a bunch or prison abolitionists owned a prison

i outline the possibilities of this fantasy

it would be like a spa, louise says

yeah and they could have some down time and then when they are ready they can get help making a plan for the outside

or they can just leave louise says

yeah they could leave, but some people might want to have a plan and some support in putting that together

she makes spearmint tea

would you like another muffin

she asks

no, two's fine, i say

she wants to watch the news and i swear at the tv and make threats to the fascists who run this province to the ground

i realise i'm getting seriously waylaid and say good bye just as gordon campbell is being interviewed by peter mansbridge

i told louise about how he came into the bookstore i worked in in point grey hung over and he didn't notice my look of utter disgust because he was leaning his scruffy face over the counter as he bought "saturday night

" so i go down that laneway behind their house

a hole has been kicked in the plywood door to their junk filled garage

i walk down the hill, careful not to slip, because it's cold and frosty

i am looking for a good tree to look in on someone, just to see their home and there carryings-on

there is a house like my friends' sarah and kelly, i know i am looking into warmly lit kitchens, through vine branches of the garden and i can only really see the curtains

there is an orange curtain that is very nice a decorated gingham

the fire station has the most amazing tower with stairs zig-zagging up the side

i get to the park and walk past the dried gardens

there are some herbs that are still alive

when i get to mcspadden there is a sign on a pole for a show at douglas college called magic gardens: drawings and paintings by joe rosenblatt

he had some affiliation with mcmaster at one point i believe, but you know i mix up people i have never met all the time

he is known to me as a poet, but i could be making this all up for myself

"in my mind the landscape with its intricacies is there germinating waiting to sprout from the cerebral soil

" the sign says

it says other things and as i look at it and read it, the lamp light gets brighter and fades, gets brighter and fades

a dog is coming up behind me

as it passes i can see it is a rotwhieller, but it is not interested in me and it's owner passes too

i go up mcspadden and pass a white cat and find a beautiful tree for sitting

i take the lane and get to behind cafe deux soleil

there are people there so i can't turn back when i see there is no real exit

it said no exit twice, signs, but who's to say who they mean the sign for

so beside the dumpster is a fence, is a roof of a house, is some two by fours beside the dumpster, is another fence to a small path between the house and a building

"weird," i hear someone say as i skip up between the first fence and the dumpster

standing on the two by fours i pull myself up to the fence and hold the eaves trough of the roof

i stand on the next fence then sit on it and slide down landing on the cement path

the fence at the other end is a gate i pass the gas meter and unlatch the gate, i have to walk to the centre of the front lawn to get out the last gate and on to the sidewalk

no problem

thanks 1725

some guy starts walking beside me, but he's not really following me

i pass the movie theatre and think of jeremy almost finishing his show, or has he left

the proprietor is slumped on a chair in the near dark inside, i think he wouldn't be sitting there if the show was over, he would go home, but that assumes that nothing is wrong with him, that nothing has upset his desire to be home, or that he is not a pensive and solitary person

i cross the street anyway, just to be sure that guy is not following me

if he was he isn't, because he carries on down the other side of the street

i walk across the street by the bridge and i am watching a car that is in a strange position, turned, but so it would run into the light pole if it went forward

the lights are on and then i realise the light has changed so i get off the road

down the way a pole reads: living closet





jello biafra





dj rock steady





the candy box





commemorate political prisoners and resistance





rock for sanity

rock for sanity

oh, help

i really have to pee again

a man's face is close to mine and i imagine he is secretly gay

he doesn't indicate he notices me looking into his face and i look away

i cross the street and slip by people

i turn onto another lane, not well lit, which suits my peeing purposes and step over gravel, potholes and cracks till i find a nice patch of grass

i look up to an apartment across the lane and think it looks like a bar with plywood panelling and dim lights and red neon

maybe i am looking at something that is quite different than what i think it is, but it looks to me like a bar someone has put in their place, to entertain, perhaps impress

passing the backyards and cars and gardens i remember listening to bob dylan playing from some backyard last summer, i crouched, because i wanted to listen, but i didn't see any people, it wasn't a party at all

but now it is quiet and just dark

i see a clear path to the parallel street and take it

it is beside the house that was demolished in the spring

there is a new house there now beside 1547

i remember the man of the house standing on his front lawn protectively as the huge forklift chewed apart the house that stood just three feet from his

i can see my house and when i step inside the-guy-across-the-hall's cat greets me

you can't pet her, she'll hiss and swipe at you

the-guy-across-the-hall is in the toilet room, so i'm glad i used the laneway