19 May 2008

rhi's house in the morning

rhiannon, fidel, claire, luc, jonathan, strewn about an old nelson house - lilacs blooming on the fresh side of the glass - the first of the summer flies buzzing inside, trapped in the smell of wood panels - brandy the kool gray cat sleeping on the chair 

me 'n luc, we don't remember much of last night - somehow we made it down here from the lookout - my arm is scraped, fresh wounds, not yet scabbed - we are quite the pair - we never learn, do we? chalk it up to male stupidity - hard hats in coal mines, chatting up a sick canary, kerry still on my mind, that torn up beauty, maybe she just needs a buddy

rhi works at the co-op - i've heard about that place - everybody has an opinion on it but really, i do have a certain respect for the whole organic produce fair trade scene, they're trying to do a certain thing there and they're sticking to their guns, and they're upfront about their convictions and if that's political, so be it - i'm glad i live in a place that offers alternatives and though i'm not an organic shopper, it’s nice to have the option

an old house still maintaining somehow reminds me of the capitol barber shop - panties and socks on a clothesline, toy trucks on shelves, a record player with a plastic cover, home plate shaped cloth dangling from the ceiling, an ochre scheme, a fat happy buddha deep in his fried food fix

forget is sleeping and more power to the poor tormented boy, i told him, he can't function on three hours a night, and i'm no help, egging him on in our parodies of the rock 'n roll lifestyle - if he couldn't provide, well, it's not cause he doesn't work hard - but he does succumb to vice, let's not pretend otherwise, and let's also admit that our man forget has been so deep in vice he's gone beyond zen - hardcore marriage-wrecking demolition - could the 3k coke bender have been the culprit?

i've been there, except i haven't had a wife and kid in the mix, not as far to fall - oh i had a girlfriend in ancient times but you know what? she was deeper in vice than me - well, depends how you define vice - i did a broad spectrum of nasty things, but she did booze and smokes like a champion - reduced to absurdity - if there's a point to booze, it's that

it was good to meet fidel today, luc's boy, here comes the son, he really is a nice kid, far more personable than i would have thought for such a young 'un, burbling out joycean jewels from the well of sprung verse - reminds me of my ex's niece zoe - we have an odd bond me 'n him - uncle jonathan, yeah, that's cool with me - we saved a caterpillar from an ant attack on red sands beach - i told fidel: he'll turn into a butterfly one day

fidel is a bundle of fun, a delightful burden - i remember tony talking about how luc went off all drugs in the blissful days of his new family and loving relationship... relationship, sounds like algebra - when money is involved, it certainly is - but in those early days, nature was enough, human nature, the nature of endorphins - whatever toxins got in the mix, luc and rhi are admirable parents

tony was bummed about the breakup, luc and rhi split - but sometimes one must fuck shit up - sometimes you gotta lose to know what you lost - you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around - me, all i want is a warm plate and a big thick slab of buttered french toast - baby, you must be cholesterol cause you stopped my heart - make no mistake, ahahahaaah - i try not to laugh because when it peters out it hurts my throat and not even menthol cigarettes will sooth the burn

i'm starting to feel embarrassed telling people in nelson that i’m from nelson, like i'm silver platter dude, seasoned with nutmeg, not quite blasé but going thru these serious-looking motions, starring once again in this long running annual series, the hometown pantomime with hilarious local references, trapped in the invisible box, appearing very convincing, very very convincing, tres bien

it's a strange time to be alive, we do the best we can be bothered to do - i must have taken a tumble last night and hit some rocks but i don't remember - there are surges of flowers and plants outside - an art-deco lamp - people i haven't scratched the surface of - but you know what the craziest thing is? i became such an uglee drugee that i even ruined love for myself - i can't imagine much satisfaction in connecting with the opposite sex cause it's just another shallow cyclical high for me - no matter how much i love women - i guess i'm just eternally frustrated platonic man - i thought the next girl would cure me of my sexual hangups and hell, i'm not complaining about that hookup, but there is no magic in love for me, only chemical reaction

but i 'spose that's better than nothing, isn't it?

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