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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