“What a beautiful warmth” pronounced my lips,
“Let’s talk about more that the weather.” you said.
Did you think that maybe nothing else was in my head?
Am I so distant that you can’t even hear me,
When I say that I think the weather deserves further scrutiny?
You stand there
Awkward in the rain
And though the sun shines and the air is dry
It’s raining all the same.
The mental rain beats on my mind
Washing away all emotion
Leaving me cold and clammy and engulfed in logic
But robbed of true feeling.
I watch as the invisible drops
Drip down your face and onto your expectant lips
And I can feel as my mind slowly melts
And drip drip drips…
Into the oblivion of the invisible monsoon
But I guess I shouldn’t worry
This’ll be over soon
And you stand there
Awkward in the rain.
So as the tears rip me apart
They never meet my skin
They contemplate a quick escape
But I can hold them in
Though the sun shines
And the air is dry,
It’s raining.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
The Inka Trees
The inka trees
sway in the breeze
the stars upon them grow
but what an inka tree looks like
I guess we'll never know
the very last, with golden leaves
silver limbs, those slender tress,
the very last was lost to me
a long long time ago
there was a time
not recently
when you could CLIMB an inka tree
climb all the way up to the top
to snatch the stars before they dropped.
Silently in winter
the trees would wait for light
solemnly and patiently
they'd host that longest night
with subtle love and industry
devotion care and skill
springtime whispered life into
the trees on Inka Hill
the black bark blossomed silver
and the buds a golden sheen
the night no longer desolate
no dark sky to be seen
the Inka trees sang softly
on their hill and in the wind
even their trembling blossoms
sometimes liked to chime in.
One night a sound disturbed the peaceful
hum among the Inka Trees
persistent anxious buzzing
broke branches and shook leaves
roots were rudely shoved aside
by buzzing angry silver weeds
and something deep inside us died
and something in the inka trees.
the gold it faded gracefully
into a tarnished silver hue
the humming faded gradually
silence is what it turned into
the silver bark turned black for good
as dark vines grew and shook
on inka hill the grey trees stood
as grey weeds overtook
the silence turned from music
turned to weeping in it's stead
the diamond tears cascading
from the sky into our heads.
The inka trees
wept silently
as endless winter claimed them
consumed by giant sweeping weeds
and clouds to entertain them
the leaves fell off into the night
to light the tragic sky
now every night the stars come out
and sparkle as they cry.
The inka trees
who used to sway
so gently in the wind
were conquered by the deadly vines
who left nothing to defend.
The very last
with golden leaves
silver limbs, those shining trees
the very last was lost to me
when we forgot how to believe.
So when you look into the sky
and see the stars and wonder why
they never change and rarely fly
remember all the inka trees
that used to sway
sway in the breeze.
sway in the breeze
the stars upon them grow
but what an inka tree looks like
I guess we'll never know
the very last, with golden leaves
silver limbs, those slender tress,
the very last was lost to me
a long long time ago
there was a time
not recently
when you could CLIMB an inka tree
climb all the way up to the top
to snatch the stars before they dropped.
Silently in winter
the trees would wait for light
solemnly and patiently
they'd host that longest night
with subtle love and industry
devotion care and skill
springtime whispered life into
the trees on Inka Hill
the black bark blossomed silver
and the buds a golden sheen
the night no longer desolate
no dark sky to be seen
the Inka trees sang softly
on their hill and in the wind
even their trembling blossoms
sometimes liked to chime in.
One night a sound disturbed the peaceful
hum among the Inka Trees
persistent anxious buzzing
broke branches and shook leaves
roots were rudely shoved aside
by buzzing angry silver weeds
and something deep inside us died
and something in the inka trees.
the gold it faded gracefully
into a tarnished silver hue
the humming faded gradually
silence is what it turned into
the silver bark turned black for good
as dark vines grew and shook
on inka hill the grey trees stood
as grey weeds overtook
the silence turned from music
turned to weeping in it's stead
the diamond tears cascading
from the sky into our heads.
The inka trees
wept silently
as endless winter claimed them
consumed by giant sweeping weeds
and clouds to entertain them
the leaves fell off into the night
to light the tragic sky
now every night the stars come out
and sparkle as they cry.
The inka trees
who used to sway
so gently in the wind
were conquered by the deadly vines
who left nothing to defend.
The very last
with golden leaves
silver limbs, those shining trees
the very last was lost to me
when we forgot how to believe.
So when you look into the sky
and see the stars and wonder why
they never change and rarely fly
remember all the inka trees
that used to sway
sway in the breeze.
Toronto
It's cold now but the city thrives, much as in the spring.
I like it better now though cause of the bitter sting.
it warns away the cowards, keeps them in their cupboards.
rows of faceless houses, no real homes out in the suburbs.
where the streets are wide for cars, not for people or for busses
and everyone's in a hurry but no one ever rushes.
i know it's not my business, how the harmless choose to live,
but praise the mediocre, i wont now and never did.
and so the city calls to me, begs for change and for a smoke
i smile and shrug and walk away with "no" caught in my throat,
both hands stuffed in my pockets, and my tongue clenched in my teeth,
teasing, probing tender flesh from too much tongue in cheek.
the old crone sitting next to me mutters to her paper
laughs like a mechanic and begs the lord to save her.
i wonder if she's happy then i wonder if she's crazy
and the nasty voices in my head say 'maybe she's just lazy...'
the queen of streets sparkles with faces i might have known,
decades of decorous artists, vagrants and dirty snow.
The trends are moving westward, we dont look to the east,
goddamn it in this city the sun rises in the street.
a million souls wander by with life written on their faces.
agendas concealed, or clutched to their hearts as they shuffle to someplaces.
the love that we share is not glorious but strong.
we cling with angry fingers and it strings us along.
it looms in the distance, like a comforting fog,
under our beautiful sky painted crimson by smog.
the city it loves us with negligent rhymes,
And we love her back when we can spare the time.
I like it better now though cause of the bitter sting.
it warns away the cowards, keeps them in their cupboards.
rows of faceless houses, no real homes out in the suburbs.
where the streets are wide for cars, not for people or for busses
and everyone's in a hurry but no one ever rushes.
i know it's not my business, how the harmless choose to live,
but praise the mediocre, i wont now and never did.
and so the city calls to me, begs for change and for a smoke
i smile and shrug and walk away with "no" caught in my throat,
both hands stuffed in my pockets, and my tongue clenched in my teeth,
teasing, probing tender flesh from too much tongue in cheek.
the old crone sitting next to me mutters to her paper
laughs like a mechanic and begs the lord to save her.
i wonder if she's happy then i wonder if she's crazy
and the nasty voices in my head say 'maybe she's just lazy...'
the queen of streets sparkles with faces i might have known,
decades of decorous artists, vagrants and dirty snow.
The trends are moving westward, we dont look to the east,
goddamn it in this city the sun rises in the street.
a million souls wander by with life written on their faces.
agendas concealed, or clutched to their hearts as they shuffle to someplaces.
the love that we share is not glorious but strong.
we cling with angry fingers and it strings us along.
it looms in the distance, like a comforting fog,
under our beautiful sky painted crimson by smog.
the city it loves us with negligent rhymes,
And we love her back when we can spare the time.
Diamonds? I dunno...
Five years in that damned park
I don’t really have anything to say to you
But for some strange reason I just can’t get enough
We walk up and down the same damned street
You say hello to everyone we meet
But they don’t know you
Like I know you
And they know that it’s true
No one wants to know the truth about me and you
Cause really we’re friends day by day
We’d fuck each other but we’re too gay.
On each others crippled shoulders
Teardrops fail to fall
But plaintive buffoonery well
We don’t even have to listen at all.
You aren’t expecting me to give a damn
That must be why we’re so surprised when I do and I am
So strangely over anything that never was or might have been
I never expected anything
and that’s all I’d ever ask for cause it’s all I really want.
Someone else who’s got nowhere better to be
Someone who will condescend to know me
Better than maybe I’d like.
We don’t even have to fight.
Save it for another night.
Just light that fucking pipe
It takes two to ignore the better part of the world.
It takes two it takes two it takes three it takes four.
Pass that shit back here some more.
There’s nothing wrong
The joy is gone
But we’re still here. We’re still here. We’re still here.
I don’t really have anything to say to you
But for some strange reason I just can’t get enough
We walk up and down the same damned street
You say hello to everyone we meet
But they don’t know you
Like I know you
And they know that it’s true
No one wants to know the truth about me and you
Cause really we’re friends day by day
We’d fuck each other but we’re too gay.
On each others crippled shoulders
Teardrops fail to fall
But plaintive buffoonery well
We don’t even have to listen at all.
You aren’t expecting me to give a damn
That must be why we’re so surprised when I do and I am
So strangely over anything that never was or might have been
I never expected anything
and that’s all I’d ever ask for cause it’s all I really want.
Someone else who’s got nowhere better to be
Someone who will condescend to know me
Better than maybe I’d like.
We don’t even have to fight.
Save it for another night.
Just light that fucking pipe
It takes two to ignore the better part of the world.
It takes two it takes two it takes three it takes four.
Pass that shit back here some more.
There’s nothing wrong
The joy is gone
But we’re still here. We’re still here. We’re still here.
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
i thought i'd crossed this bridge long ago
and left it burning in the snow.
it goes to show you never know just how deep some cuts can go.
five years almost to the day
through hurt comes hope he dared to say.
only now do those words rend and sting
lashing and tearing, nodding and encouraging.
i warm until i am melted and then start to simmer and burn.
thinking nothing of the healing powers of time.
i'm still beating myself for ancient crimes.
i've never known repentance but i lash harder every day.
and even if i am forgotten, or fogiven, i cannot hold.
a lesson learned at too great a cost.
replace honour with a refusal to look back.
never anything by halves.
a love of self long since lost.
my nature is twisted, it hurts when i move.
i live to admonish, consign and reprove.
i daren't put a foot wrong.
i keep my feelings where they are only mine, cold and dead but still in line.
where it seems they belong.
wild beasts in cages
wrong wrong wrong.
i'm still standing on this bridge.
it burns from both ends.
i've betrayed myself and my friends.
i mask my weakness with stubborn greed.
i take what i want and i take what i need.
i dont know any other way to be.
but there was something good in me.
and maybe old words are the key.
my last hope is that in my fear,
and in keeping my regrets too near,
i've also retained what was dear
even after so many years.
so many years ago.
so maybe in my letting go
i'll find that piece of me at last
i'll be stronger than the past
i'll hope for the strength to forgive
and for the strength to live
and in that, find absolution.
i'll never know hope like i did years ago
but ... well,
who knows.
and left it burning in the snow.
it goes to show you never know just how deep some cuts can go.
five years almost to the day
through hurt comes hope he dared to say.
only now do those words rend and sting
lashing and tearing, nodding and encouraging.
i warm until i am melted and then start to simmer and burn.
thinking nothing of the healing powers of time.
i'm still beating myself for ancient crimes.
i've never known repentance but i lash harder every day.
and even if i am forgotten, or fogiven, i cannot hold.
a lesson learned at too great a cost.
replace honour with a refusal to look back.
never anything by halves.
a love of self long since lost.
my nature is twisted, it hurts when i move.
i live to admonish, consign and reprove.
i daren't put a foot wrong.
i keep my feelings where they are only mine, cold and dead but still in line.
where it seems they belong.
wild beasts in cages
wrong wrong wrong.
i'm still standing on this bridge.
it burns from both ends.
i've betrayed myself and my friends.
i mask my weakness with stubborn greed.
i take what i want and i take what i need.
i dont know any other way to be.
but there was something good in me.
and maybe old words are the key.
my last hope is that in my fear,
and in keeping my regrets too near,
i've also retained what was dear
even after so many years.
so many years ago.
so maybe in my letting go
i'll find that piece of me at last
i'll be stronger than the past
i'll hope for the strength to forgive
and for the strength to live
and in that, find absolution.
i'll never know hope like i did years ago
but ... well,
who knows.
Whiskey
And you take one final swig
The flask it is attached to your hip
and you’ve long ago lost the lid
on the happy ground somewhere amid
the debris of many restless nights
the drink it wont put up a fight.
So tilt your glass and pour another
You could share it with a lover
Or hoard it all for another time
Too rich for beer too poor for wine.
Whiskey
For a price she’s anybody’s friend
She’ll be with you till the bitter end.
She teases your lips and burns your tongue
Coats your stomach and drains your lungs
She just wants a little fun
And you will go wherever she leads
You’d follow her to the ends of the street
The earth ends there cut off at the light
And you stand up straight with all your might
And beg a stranger for a light,
A smoke, a drag, anything, it’s alright.
Whiskey
She’ll love you forever
Whiskey
You’ll be there together
Whiskey,
It’s the end of it all
But whiskey, she wont let you fall.
She’ll break your bones and steal your heart
Rot your gut and taint your art
She wont stop till you fall apart
Cause baby loves you.
Whiskey baby she loves you dearly
So much love you can’t see clearly.
You can’t even stand to live
Cause that dame’s got so much to give.
And all she wants for in return
Is to watch her baby crash and burn
So make her smile and make her laugh
You’re not a man you’re only half
Alive these days anyways
so pound her back with style and grace.
She’s golden, bitter, smooth and strong
The woman you wanted all along.
She’s honest, true, faithful and yours.
And look at how great she pours.
whiskey, in your time of need
whiskey, satisfies your greed
She’s got spunk, she’s got spite
She makes you feel like it’s alright.
She loves you baby, whiskey does.
She loves you baby, yes she does.
She loves you baby, whisky does.
She’ll love you till she’s all you’ve got.
But she loves you baby, and that’s a lot.
The flask it is attached to your hip
and you’ve long ago lost the lid
on the happy ground somewhere amid
the debris of many restless nights
the drink it wont put up a fight.
So tilt your glass and pour another
You could share it with a lover
Or hoard it all for another time
Too rich for beer too poor for wine.
Whiskey
For a price she’s anybody’s friend
She’ll be with you till the bitter end.
She teases your lips and burns your tongue
Coats your stomach and drains your lungs
She just wants a little fun
And you will go wherever she leads
You’d follow her to the ends of the street
The earth ends there cut off at the light
And you stand up straight with all your might
And beg a stranger for a light,
A smoke, a drag, anything, it’s alright.
Whiskey
She’ll love you forever
Whiskey
You’ll be there together
Whiskey,
It’s the end of it all
But whiskey, she wont let you fall.
She’ll break your bones and steal your heart
Rot your gut and taint your art
She wont stop till you fall apart
Cause baby loves you.
Whiskey baby she loves you dearly
So much love you can’t see clearly.
You can’t even stand to live
Cause that dame’s got so much to give.
And all she wants for in return
Is to watch her baby crash and burn
So make her smile and make her laugh
You’re not a man you’re only half
Alive these days anyways
so pound her back with style and grace.
She’s golden, bitter, smooth and strong
The woman you wanted all along.
She’s honest, true, faithful and yours.
And look at how great she pours.
whiskey, in your time of need
whiskey, satisfies your greed
She’s got spunk, she’s got spite
She makes you feel like it’s alright.
She loves you baby, whiskey does.
She loves you baby, yes she does.
She loves you baby, whisky does.
She’ll love you till she’s all you’ve got.
But she loves you baby, and that’s a lot.
I don't miss adolescence.
We left together. Coincidence was really to blame but it could have been his deliberation and I certainly didn’t hesitate at the thought of his isolated company. We talked about music and the weather and about music again. It felt like we were arguing but more for the sake of filling space too empty to be awkward. I wanted to know. I wanted to ask him, but the time didn’t feel right and I didn’t want to rush into a conversation that would leave the ride home stilted and painful. I wanted to know, I wanted to ask, but I didn’t, and time moved on jerkily. We made it to the station, paid our fares, went down, onto the platform. We talked about music. He stepped back, away from me, leaving room enough for conversation and a crowd. It was one thirty in the morning, no crowd came so we talked about music. My mind was elsewhere. He might have been drunk. He might have been stoned. I can’t tell most of the time, or maybe I just don’t want to. His mind might have been anywhere. I wanted his mind to be glued to me as mine is to him but this is a dreamer’s wish. I wanted to know. I wanted to ask him, but when? The conversation could be brief and strange, making the next 5 minutes on the train hell. I wanted to know, I wanted to ask him, but the train came and we sat down. Close, because the seats are close. My knee brushed his. It always does. His body seems stiff, but maybe it’s mine. I experiment a little, brushing my arm against his, inviting his hand to take mine. It doesn’t and my lonely hand returns to my lap. I wanted to ask him, I wanted to know. He was talking and seemed animated. I liked the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke. We talked about music. I had two more stops. I liked the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at me. I liked the way his cheeks crinkled when he smiled. His eyes sparkled and his cheeks crinkled and I wanted to ask him, I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to lose that sparkle so we talked about music. I had one stop. Excepting the screeching of the train I had silence. I had a moment. I wanted to ask him, I wanted to know. He is taller than I am, it shows when we’re sitting. I looked up at him. His eyes met mine casually, a little longer than casually perhaps, but I looked away nervously before I had a chance to speak. My mouth opened and closed several times, hoping for some sense or sound to escape. It didn’t, my knee brushed his distractedly and I cursed myself inwardly for my weakness. The train pulled into my stop. His hand touched my knee and he brushed my lower thigh almost clumsily with fingers that may have been shy or may have been indifferent. Whether this act of physical contact was to him a chore I may never know but dubious joy and then numbing shock swelled through my body. Time stopped. The train stopped. I stood up. He looked at me and drew me in and kissed me casually, a little longer than casually perhaps. The doors opened. I wished him well. I got off the train. I made up my mind to phone him, I had to ask him, I had to know. What it is he wants from me, and why it is that we only ever seem to kiss goodbye.
Roma
Lingering in sandy heaven
Alone among pebbles
Broken stone.
Holier than thou
More whole than I,
Complete as only
A chard of ancient marble glory
Could ever hope to be.
Alone among pebbles
Broken stone.
Holier than thou
More whole than I,
Complete as only
A chard of ancient marble glory
Could ever hope to be.
PANIC
(this is a story i started writing a looong time ago. i'm posting pieces of it in an effort to inspire myself to keep working on it)
It was a Sunday night party. One of those nights where everyone meets up in a bar, and brings someone with them since they don’t expect to see anyone there on the gloomiest night of the week. That doubled the number of people in the bar. We didn’t like to stay somewhere where money was required when we could just as happily procure some booze and head for a nearby park. I speak of this ritual as an aged veteran but this particular evening was a christening of sorts and it was all new to me.
I came on the arm of a pretty lady named Andy. Her hair was light brown but shone gold in just the right light. I wasn’t in love with her, and I don’t think I ever could have been, but to tear my eyes away from her would have been far more trouble than not so she let me tag along with her. I knew her through a friend of a friend and a series of fortunate events had led to me waking up in my apartment, at about 4 on a Sunday afternoon, to the glorious sound of Andy humming to herself in my shower. I don’t think my shower had ever been graced by such a form since I’d moved in. it must have grown pretty accustomed to my oafish bulk and I think it was grateful for the change.
Andy wasn’t interested in politics. Andy wasn’t interested in changing the world. Andy wasn’t interested in me, but she smiled when she saw me anyways and tickled my neck with her breath as she whispered something in my ear. She never said anything important, but her mere acceptance of my company was enough to make it seem important at the time.
Tonight Andy wore a blue sundress. Cool and calm and pretty. No elegance or grace today, she didn’t seem to need it. She held my hand in a casual way as she tried to prepare me for any introductions she might have to make later on in the evening; introducing me to the regulars who I couldn’t see or even imagine. She told me about Bob, who I shouldn’t talk to until introduced by someone other than her. About jake, who was friendly and anybody’s best friend for a shot or two of anything but whisky. About Sam who only drank whisky. About Michael who I shouldn’t look at in a certain way, and about a hundred other names I couldn’t hope to put faces to because I had never seen them. I think it was just empty blather to fill the train ride but I was contented to nod and acknowledge.
We got off the train and I followed her, making her way easily through a series of alleys. “It’s faster this way” was her excuse but I think she just liked to lead me like a fox might lead a lost lamb. Every once in a while she would pause and wrap me around herself, clutching my hand to her breast, sometimes she’d spin around and kiss me, sometimes she’d gnaw on my finger. Once she stopped and pulled me close to her, nodding at the moon. Between getting on the subway and off again, the sun had set and night had exploded exposing the moon. It seemed inappropriate somehow, that it wasn’t a full glowing orb, or a thin romantic crescent, but just a gibbous white chunk of light in the sky, occasionally becoming a gibbous blur of light behind a cloud with no understanding of mood or setting.
I really liked Andy, I think she knew it too. Nobody who didn’t know would have smirked in such a self satisfied way, like a pet who knows where your keys are and isn’t telling because it’d rather watch you panic.
We arrived at Moore’s a little sloppier than when we’d left my apartment. This didn’t seem to bother Andy and I could tell by the way her muscles relaxed as soon as the patio was in sight that she’d spent many evenings out there. She had told me that this was a favourite haunt of hers but I hadn’t given it much thought till I saw the way she slammed herself down into a seat at one of the tables and the dark and shaggy guy, a stranger to me at the time, handed her a smoke without a word or even a glance passing between them. All words seemed to have been exchanged years ago, leaving nothing but habit and generosity. He nodded at me and proffered the pack. I only smoked when I was too drunk to know better so I declined.
The guy sitting across from Andy was introduced to me as Andrew. I vaguely remembered Andy telling me something about him, maybe they’d dated or something, I didn’t really care. I was eyeing his beer enviously and he poured me a glass out of the pitcher. I pulled out my wallet and asked how much the pitcher had been. He laughed and told me not to worry about it, and that he’d call in a favour some time later. I frankly would have preferred to have my worrying over and done with but Andy was smiling and that’s when I noticed the guy sitting to andrew’s left and right across from me. He was eyeing me with a strange look on his face and seemed to be trying to guess how much my shirt had cost when he asked me “hey, did you used to work for sally?”
I started at the question, strangers in pubs bringing up a shady and short part of my history, particularly regarding my running drop offs for my high school’s biggest dealer, was not on the whole something I’d expected, although, had I listened to any of the stories Andy had been spinning the night before, I probably should have.
I grinned ear to ear. The scar running from the left corner of his mouth down his chin was a beacon of recognition and I said “yeah I think I remember you. You used to pick up for Jeremy didn’t you?” this time it was his turn to grin and he stuck a slender hand across the table. “Mike.” He said. I took his hand in my own heavy palm “Hey. I’m mike too.” we shook hands.
And that, I think, was the beginning. From there the story is just a blur of angry chaos and desperate coincidences, moments so unlikely that I questioned their verity even as they occurred. Dancing in front of my eyes and through my head like a cat on a crystal ball. But for all the madness, it’s a story worth telling and so, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you in.
The evening ended rather more abruptly than I’d anticipated. Someone I’d missed being introduced to, and who seemed to be essential to the group, had to go home and so we scattered. Everybody said their hellogoodbyes and I wandered towards the bus stop with Andy. She grinned sheepishly and muttered something about work the next day and getting to sleep early so she could clean up her apartment before her roommate got back. ‘ah’ I thought, ‘the catch.’
She gave me a friendly hug, a tease of a kiss on the cheek and then was gone on a streetcar I hadn’t even noticed was there. ‘ah’ I sighed, ‘stranded.’
I wasn’t at all familiar with the downtown area I was in. I had little to no money, enough only for bus fare. I had no plan. But I was very drunk, which is why, when I felt that wiry hand grip my shoulder, I reacted the way I did.
It was dark out and I’d moved slightly out of the light. Out of nowhere I felt a weight press against my shoulder and then a squeeze. I’d never hit anyone in my life. When I felt the terrified rage well up inside me I turned, and punched the assailant in the face.
“SHIT!” we both yelled at the same time. me in shock and mike in pained surprise. He was clutching his face and rocking on his heels. I was clutching my throbbing fist and rocking on mine. I wish his nose had been bleeding, it would have been more dramatic. As it was, he stood up and shook it off. It was then that I noticed the enormous rip in his miscellaneous band shirt. I pointed at it, still trying to regain my balance, and opened my mouth to gape some kind of inquiry when he cut me off :
“yeah, that chick was a fuckin’ bitch.”
“what happened??” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this story but it did mean I didn’t have to think or talk.
“oh nothing, that fuckin chloe chick grabbed onto it when we were in the alley and it ripped. That girl’s got a serious mean streak in her but don’t worry about it I got her back.”
He grinned and tossed a napkin at me. As I turned the white fabric over and over in my hands I realized that it was in fact a small girl’s, or very forward woman’s shirt. Blood, pit stains and all. And it had clearly been ripped clean off. Blame it on the alcohol if you will but I couldn’t help grinning back. That girl had a loud mouth and although I’d only spent the one evening in her company I wasn’t sad to hear that someone had gone some way toward shutting her up.
As I completed this thought I realized that mike had just finished saying something. I nodded. It is strange to think now, looking back, how much that simple affirmative nod altered the course of my life. It is entirely possible of course, that had I shaken my head instead and started walking away, mike would have followed me and needled me into it anyways, but that didn’t happen. And so I alone shoulder the weight of my triumphs and mistakes.
Let no judgment but that of the creator be passed on my soul. And if there is no creator, let no judgement be passed at all. Oh the law may have something to say about that, but the law can get in line.
When I woke up the next morning, I half expected to have andy by my side but even as I groggily peeled my eyelids apart I remembered some of the previous evening and felt the heaving snores coming from mike lying sprawled out next to me on an old futon. The makeshift mattress was shoved into the corner making room for a mediocre sound system and an enormous record collection.
No record player in sight.
The smell of sweat and booze was older than just last night and something told me that mike’s apartment had seen dozens of strangers open their eyes and wonder where they were and what that smell was.
What I had mistaken for an ugly collar on a leather jacket turned out to be Aggy, a manky cat who chose to make a nest of mike’s sloppy den. She must have seen that I was awake because she jumped up and let out a noise like nothing I had ever heard before.
It may have been a yawn but no mere mortal should be able to pack that much spite, malice, disregard, indifference and disease into a single syllable. Not even a cat.
Mike flung what must have been a pillow at her. She avoided the lumpy beer stained rag, and fled. mike muttered a “hrrrrmph” and rolled over so I could see his face.
His eye was swollen and a scab was developing on his lip. It didn’t help that he was grinning ear to ear, stretching the developing scab into a sort of twisted grimace enhancer.
“morning sugar; tea?”
“excuse me?” was all I could manage in reply.
Mike jumped out of ‘bed’ with an obscene amount of energy and bustled in the kitchen before disappearing into the bathroom to perform whatever his morning ritual was. I felt my eyelids flicker with the whistling of the kettle and sat up gratefully as a brown, on the inside anyways, mug was shoved into my trembling hands. The smell of traditional earl grey briefly overpowered the reek of mike’s squalid apartment and I drank deeply.
***
The bar was empty thursday, and I was glad. I showed up alone, looking for a friend in a bottle and sat down with my bud. Jack and Haley stumbled out of the washroom and grinned at me sheepishly. They smelled like sex and they knew I could tell. Haley shrugged apologetically and grabbed two beers, one for herself and one for jack. He pried the top off with his teeth. It was a twist-off anyways and I wasn’t impressed. None of us really had anything to say. The concentrated silence lasted about three minutes, long enough for me to finish my beer.
“well” I adjusted my belt, “I think I should head out…”
“what are you talking about? It’s only 7:30 and you’ve got nowhere to be…”
Haley could be cruel like that sometimes and she smiled that little smile that let you know, in a friendly way, that you hadn’t a hope. I sat back down.
“good.”
She may as well have winked. “I didn’t want to have to chase you down for a smoke later. Not with that cop wandering around anyways…”
“what cop?”
Jack shrugged impatiently “just your average power-tripping thug with a piece of metal in a flipbook.”
“well you were speeding…” Haley’s last comment made me almost choke on my own saliva,
“They gave you your car back? Are they nuts??”
“thanks” muttered jack.
“no man, I’m serious, the last time you took that thing out we all almost died. A few times!”
“we got where we were going didn’t we?”
“yeah sure but-”
“aw shut up guys. Jack’s learning how to control his hunk of metal, mike’s learning how to control his mouth, it’s all good.”
Haley. Peacemaker extraordinaire.
“besides,” muttered jack, “it wasn’t my speeding he was after. He wanted to talk to Haley, seemed to remember her from somewhere."
My eyes took in her faint blush, a rare experience for those brazen cheeks. “what did he want?”
Haley shrugged expansively “he just wanted to ask me some stuff”
“what did he ask you about?”
“Sex.”
I stared at her blankly.
“Isn’t that what everyone wants to know about these days?” she said as she tossed her hair casually and gave me a sidelong glance. You could tell that she’d practiced in front of the mirror for hours when she was around 14 but was now an expert. The flirting came so naturally to her it made me feel awkward.
“I’m sure you know enough for the group of us.”
Jack’s surliness never bothered me but I was eager to hear more from those cherry lips and his cynicism wasn’t going to get her talking.
*dialogue revealing that Haley fucks for money*
“You can’t argue with money.” said jack. I shuffled uncomfortably.
“It’s terribly agreeable.” said Haley.
***
We left the bar, tension was high. Mike on one side of me and Andrea on the other. Whatever that ancient laughing Turkish guy had slipped into their drinks whittled away at their rage but the irritability was still there and I began to feel anxious. I wanted this night to be like the first few had been but I seemed instead doomed to another evening of petty bickering and mild hallucinations.
We made our way to andrea’s apartment and when we got there we collapsed into our customary positions. Mike curled up in his usual fetal position and I sprawled out on the floor staring at the ceiling. It was white. There was a stain on it that looked like spilled coffee right where any idiot could see a light fixture belonged. Her landlord insisted that there were absolutely no problems with the heating and hydro. Andrea had long since rolled her eyes and assumed with a sigh that she must be imagining the stain as well. She lived her life regardless. While I thought about this, and let the stain become various celebrity faces in my head, mike began to drool and snore with his eyes wide open. It occurred to me then that the only time I saw that guy blink was when he was winking at somebody and I couldn’t remember if he alternated eyes.
Andrea was tidying her apartment like she always did when she was stressed or stoned. She was probably both. I was ripped from my reverie by a smash in the kitchen. What surprised me more was the lack of any kind of reaction. A startled scream, a curse, the clinking of any effort to clean up, anything. Obviously this disturbed mike as well because the glassiness in his eyes faded and he sat up rubbing his shoulder with his palm. We both shrugged and lurched our way to the kitchen. Andrea was standing, staring at the shattered mug on the floor. The look on her face suggested that it had been somebody’s face smashed on the floor and not the cheap mug that you just always found somewhere around the counter. She stood, motionless, barely breathing, staring.
Mike approached her softly and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move but some fire in her eyes flared, flickered and then went out. She blinked.
“what?” she barked.
“you’re… okay?” I asked. It seemed like a stupid question, probably because it was.
“yeah. Fine.” It was a stupid answer. I was thinking about how maybe it was a smart answer and it was in fact me who was stupid when she rounded on me with the knife. I was pretty surprised, but not too surprised to act. Of course I didn’t know what to do so I did what I usually do in those situations: the wrong thing.
I grabbed her by the wrist and kicked her in the shins. She flailed her other arm and slapped/clawed at my face. I grabbed the knife by the blade and pried it from her frantic clutch. She punched me in the stomach and ran from the apartment.
Mike got me some ice. We sat for some time, five minutes or so, in silence wondering what to do next. Mike cleaned up the spilled ceramic. I sat on the couch and stared at the wall. If the clock hadn’t been digital then the ticking would have driven me insane and I wouldn’t have known what time it was. Mike washed his hands and came back into the living room.
“we should try and find her.”
The calmness in his voice might have surprised someone who didn’t know him like I did but it was just me there. I shrugged.
“alright”
The perpetual shrug that was my life stretched into a complacent agreeableness and I was too out of it most of the time to really get upset by anything. I shrugged on my jacket and handed mike his. There was a knock at the door and mike opened it. His hand had been about to open it even before the knock so he caught andrea just before she hit the ground.
She was cold and pale. Her eyelids fluttered and then closed again. Mike and I muscled her onto the couch and then got a moistened towel to put on her forehead like you see in the movies. She lay there for a while. Limp, skinny. Bony as all hell really but the life will do that to you. She was wearing a loose burgundy sweater and ill-fitting jeans. She’d lost a shoe somewhere and her long brown hair was falling out of the clip she’d had it up in. without the glow in her cheeks she seemed like half a person but this thought only lasted a second in my mind because that’s about when she woke up.
She grabbed mike’s hand immediately and for a second I feared some new attack but she just held it to her chest and cried. Giant heaving sobs wracking her slender frame.
“I’m so sorry” she sobbed. She looked sorry. She was.
‘it’s okay.” Mike and I both said at once. What else could we have said? It was.
Andrea pulled mike close to herself and leaned her head against his shoulder. Her eyes closed and as silent tears rolled down her pallid cheeks she whispered: “I don’t know what happened… I don’t… it doesn’t…”
“it’s alright” I said as soothingly as possible. I didn’t have the tact to realize I wasn’t needed. She would have raised her voice if she thought she needed to. Instead, she whispered when she said
“no it’s not. Shit like that can’t just happen. I could have hurt one of you! I could have hurt myself. Why? It’s that damned mirror, I know it is!”
Mike tried to calm her “it was just a chip drew.”
“what do you know?” she almost shouted. “that thing has been driving me fucking crazy with its negative energy since you hit it with that bottle.”
“it’ll balance out”
How mike dealt with andrea’s new wave bullshit was beyond me. I would’ve hit her, hard, a long time ago. But they seemed to have something working for them. His indifference coupled with her self-absorption was a surprisingly effective combination.
***
“Drop the knife!” she screamed.
I refused. I was being unreasonable I knew, but that crooked blade was all I had left in this world and I wasn’t going to lose it for something as trivial as my life.
“for fuck’s sake you asshole! Drop the fucking knife! It’s just metal! Do you want to die for a machine?!”
The panic in andrea’s voice didn’t alarm me, and her idealistic views only fuelled my stubborn rage.
‘it’s a tool you fucking new age whore!” I yelled back and with that I made possibly the biggest mistake of my life. I lunged at her with the blade and she dove out of the way, onto the highway below. I don’t know if she hit a car before she hit the ground because I followed through like you’re supposed to when you’re stabbing someone. I would have met the same end as she did if mike hadn’t snapped out of his dream world right then and grabbed me slowing me and then us down just enough to keep me from dropping. The strength of my thrust hurled us both over the edge and with a presence of mind neither one of us would have expected in ourselves let alone each other, we each grabbed on to the beam supporting the bridge,
“FUCK!” mike yelled. The word didn’t echo but it should have, and to this day it rings in my e
ars.
“fuck.” I said. I was too scared to scream and I was trying to focus all my energy into my hands. That railing I thought, had better not break before we do.
“I’M NOT GONNA FUCKIN DIE HERE!” mike wailed. My lips were sealed. I felt like I should say something comforting, should say anything at all, but I didn’t want to so I didn’t. why comfort a dead man? Because he isn’t dead yet! I answered myself.
“hey man?” I said softly, or would have if the screaming hadn’t begun right then. It was 9pm then and by 9:05 I gave up trying to scream over him. I focused on myself and on blocking out the bursts of hysterical fear. No one could hear us, what was he thinking? He wasn’t, I knew. His eyes were vacant and despite the fact that I couldn’t see them, I knew they’d be glazed and open and round and blue and full of apocalyptic terror.
The night grew thicker and I could feel the weight of my mistakes pressing in on me. My head ached but I knew I could not let go. all night I clung to that bridge and did anything I could to keep my mind from wandering. Mike screamed. I couldn’t see him but I knew he was there because he kept screaming all night. At the moon, at the stars, at me, and mostly, I think, at himself. For letting the world become what it was and for being too weak and too stupid to do anything about it.
My hatred and my rage, already spent in previous engagements, left me devoid of any emotion. My fingers clenched tightly around the steel beam, my feet dangling uselessly. All the strength I had and a lot I didn’t was invested in my fists. It was the least I could do not to fall. And why not fall? I answered myself quickly, because I didn’t want mike’s frantic screams, beyond terror gone to complete hysteria, to be the last thing I ever heard. Almost unfortunately they weren’t.
It was at that point that I began to black out. It wasn’t until mike stopped screaming that I snapped back to myself. His constant yelling had become so regular that its sudden cessation shocked me into a reluctant consciousness. He must have dropped I thought, and now it’s my turn. It’s all over now, what a waste.
A hand gripped both my wrists halfway through this thought and I felt myself falling. Instead of the rushing wind and then the fatal connection with the highway below I’d been expecting, I felt my head smack against the cold bridge, saw mike lying next to me, wide eyed and mouth agape, mid scream. There seemed to be a lot going on around me but all I could think of was how I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to use my hands again, and that maybe I didn’t want to.
I woke up in a sterilized heaven. My entire body ached and I was hooked up to some crazy machine but if somebody seemed to want me alive then that made two of us. I experimented with my left arm, trying to lift it. It took an immense amount of effort. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. All I could remember was the helplessness of my dangling feet and the frenzied, then desperate, and then desolate howling from mike’s throat. Mike’s swollen jugular jumped behind my eyes and then I wondered, where was he? And where was a nurse or a doctor or something? If I was out cold weren’t they supposed to check in on me every few minutes? I lay there, scared, angry and confused until I fell asleep. No dreams. Nourishing and cleansing sleep and above all, nightmare free.
***
work in progress.....
It was a Sunday night party. One of those nights where everyone meets up in a bar, and brings someone with them since they don’t expect to see anyone there on the gloomiest night of the week. That doubled the number of people in the bar. We didn’t like to stay somewhere where money was required when we could just as happily procure some booze and head for a nearby park. I speak of this ritual as an aged veteran but this particular evening was a christening of sorts and it was all new to me.
I came on the arm of a pretty lady named Andy. Her hair was light brown but shone gold in just the right light. I wasn’t in love with her, and I don’t think I ever could have been, but to tear my eyes away from her would have been far more trouble than not so she let me tag along with her. I knew her through a friend of a friend and a series of fortunate events had led to me waking up in my apartment, at about 4 on a Sunday afternoon, to the glorious sound of Andy humming to herself in my shower. I don’t think my shower had ever been graced by such a form since I’d moved in. it must have grown pretty accustomed to my oafish bulk and I think it was grateful for the change.
Andy wasn’t interested in politics. Andy wasn’t interested in changing the world. Andy wasn’t interested in me, but she smiled when she saw me anyways and tickled my neck with her breath as she whispered something in my ear. She never said anything important, but her mere acceptance of my company was enough to make it seem important at the time.
Tonight Andy wore a blue sundress. Cool and calm and pretty. No elegance or grace today, she didn’t seem to need it. She held my hand in a casual way as she tried to prepare me for any introductions she might have to make later on in the evening; introducing me to the regulars who I couldn’t see or even imagine. She told me about Bob, who I shouldn’t talk to until introduced by someone other than her. About jake, who was friendly and anybody’s best friend for a shot or two of anything but whisky. About Sam who only drank whisky. About Michael who I shouldn’t look at in a certain way, and about a hundred other names I couldn’t hope to put faces to because I had never seen them. I think it was just empty blather to fill the train ride but I was contented to nod and acknowledge.
We got off the train and I followed her, making her way easily through a series of alleys. “It’s faster this way” was her excuse but I think she just liked to lead me like a fox might lead a lost lamb. Every once in a while she would pause and wrap me around herself, clutching my hand to her breast, sometimes she’d spin around and kiss me, sometimes she’d gnaw on my finger. Once she stopped and pulled me close to her, nodding at the moon. Between getting on the subway and off again, the sun had set and night had exploded exposing the moon. It seemed inappropriate somehow, that it wasn’t a full glowing orb, or a thin romantic crescent, but just a gibbous white chunk of light in the sky, occasionally becoming a gibbous blur of light behind a cloud with no understanding of mood or setting.
I really liked Andy, I think she knew it too. Nobody who didn’t know would have smirked in such a self satisfied way, like a pet who knows where your keys are and isn’t telling because it’d rather watch you panic.
We arrived at Moore’s a little sloppier than when we’d left my apartment. This didn’t seem to bother Andy and I could tell by the way her muscles relaxed as soon as the patio was in sight that she’d spent many evenings out there. She had told me that this was a favourite haunt of hers but I hadn’t given it much thought till I saw the way she slammed herself down into a seat at one of the tables and the dark and shaggy guy, a stranger to me at the time, handed her a smoke without a word or even a glance passing between them. All words seemed to have been exchanged years ago, leaving nothing but habit and generosity. He nodded at me and proffered the pack. I only smoked when I was too drunk to know better so I declined.
The guy sitting across from Andy was introduced to me as Andrew. I vaguely remembered Andy telling me something about him, maybe they’d dated or something, I didn’t really care. I was eyeing his beer enviously and he poured me a glass out of the pitcher. I pulled out my wallet and asked how much the pitcher had been. He laughed and told me not to worry about it, and that he’d call in a favour some time later. I frankly would have preferred to have my worrying over and done with but Andy was smiling and that’s when I noticed the guy sitting to andrew’s left and right across from me. He was eyeing me with a strange look on his face and seemed to be trying to guess how much my shirt had cost when he asked me “hey, did you used to work for sally?”
I started at the question, strangers in pubs bringing up a shady and short part of my history, particularly regarding my running drop offs for my high school’s biggest dealer, was not on the whole something I’d expected, although, had I listened to any of the stories Andy had been spinning the night before, I probably should have.
I grinned ear to ear. The scar running from the left corner of his mouth down his chin was a beacon of recognition and I said “yeah I think I remember you. You used to pick up for Jeremy didn’t you?” this time it was his turn to grin and he stuck a slender hand across the table. “Mike.” He said. I took his hand in my own heavy palm “Hey. I’m mike too.” we shook hands.
And that, I think, was the beginning. From there the story is just a blur of angry chaos and desperate coincidences, moments so unlikely that I questioned their verity even as they occurred. Dancing in front of my eyes and through my head like a cat on a crystal ball. But for all the madness, it’s a story worth telling and so, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you in.
The evening ended rather more abruptly than I’d anticipated. Someone I’d missed being introduced to, and who seemed to be essential to the group, had to go home and so we scattered. Everybody said their hellogoodbyes and I wandered towards the bus stop with Andy. She grinned sheepishly and muttered something about work the next day and getting to sleep early so she could clean up her apartment before her roommate got back. ‘ah’ I thought, ‘the catch.’
She gave me a friendly hug, a tease of a kiss on the cheek and then was gone on a streetcar I hadn’t even noticed was there. ‘ah’ I sighed, ‘stranded.’
I wasn’t at all familiar with the downtown area I was in. I had little to no money, enough only for bus fare. I had no plan. But I was very drunk, which is why, when I felt that wiry hand grip my shoulder, I reacted the way I did.
It was dark out and I’d moved slightly out of the light. Out of nowhere I felt a weight press against my shoulder and then a squeeze. I’d never hit anyone in my life. When I felt the terrified rage well up inside me I turned, and punched the assailant in the face.
“SHIT!” we both yelled at the same time. me in shock and mike in pained surprise. He was clutching his face and rocking on his heels. I was clutching my throbbing fist and rocking on mine. I wish his nose had been bleeding, it would have been more dramatic. As it was, he stood up and shook it off. It was then that I noticed the enormous rip in his miscellaneous band shirt. I pointed at it, still trying to regain my balance, and opened my mouth to gape some kind of inquiry when he cut me off :
“yeah, that chick was a fuckin’ bitch.”
“what happened??” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this story but it did mean I didn’t have to think or talk.
“oh nothing, that fuckin chloe chick grabbed onto it when we were in the alley and it ripped. That girl’s got a serious mean streak in her but don’t worry about it I got her back.”
He grinned and tossed a napkin at me. As I turned the white fabric over and over in my hands I realized that it was in fact a small girl’s, or very forward woman’s shirt. Blood, pit stains and all. And it had clearly been ripped clean off. Blame it on the alcohol if you will but I couldn’t help grinning back. That girl had a loud mouth and although I’d only spent the one evening in her company I wasn’t sad to hear that someone had gone some way toward shutting her up.
As I completed this thought I realized that mike had just finished saying something. I nodded. It is strange to think now, looking back, how much that simple affirmative nod altered the course of my life. It is entirely possible of course, that had I shaken my head instead and started walking away, mike would have followed me and needled me into it anyways, but that didn’t happen. And so I alone shoulder the weight of my triumphs and mistakes.
Let no judgment but that of the creator be passed on my soul. And if there is no creator, let no judgement be passed at all. Oh the law may have something to say about that, but the law can get in line.
When I woke up the next morning, I half expected to have andy by my side but even as I groggily peeled my eyelids apart I remembered some of the previous evening and felt the heaving snores coming from mike lying sprawled out next to me on an old futon. The makeshift mattress was shoved into the corner making room for a mediocre sound system and an enormous record collection.
No record player in sight.
The smell of sweat and booze was older than just last night and something told me that mike’s apartment had seen dozens of strangers open their eyes and wonder where they were and what that smell was.
What I had mistaken for an ugly collar on a leather jacket turned out to be Aggy, a manky cat who chose to make a nest of mike’s sloppy den. She must have seen that I was awake because she jumped up and let out a noise like nothing I had ever heard before.
It may have been a yawn but no mere mortal should be able to pack that much spite, malice, disregard, indifference and disease into a single syllable. Not even a cat.
Mike flung what must have been a pillow at her. She avoided the lumpy beer stained rag, and fled. mike muttered a “hrrrrmph” and rolled over so I could see his face.
His eye was swollen and a scab was developing on his lip. It didn’t help that he was grinning ear to ear, stretching the developing scab into a sort of twisted grimace enhancer.
“morning sugar; tea?”
“excuse me?” was all I could manage in reply.
Mike jumped out of ‘bed’ with an obscene amount of energy and bustled in the kitchen before disappearing into the bathroom to perform whatever his morning ritual was. I felt my eyelids flicker with the whistling of the kettle and sat up gratefully as a brown, on the inside anyways, mug was shoved into my trembling hands. The smell of traditional earl grey briefly overpowered the reek of mike’s squalid apartment and I drank deeply.
***
The bar was empty thursday, and I was glad. I showed up alone, looking for a friend in a bottle and sat down with my bud. Jack and Haley stumbled out of the washroom and grinned at me sheepishly. They smelled like sex and they knew I could tell. Haley shrugged apologetically and grabbed two beers, one for herself and one for jack. He pried the top off with his teeth. It was a twist-off anyways and I wasn’t impressed. None of us really had anything to say. The concentrated silence lasted about three minutes, long enough for me to finish my beer.
“well” I adjusted my belt, “I think I should head out…”
“what are you talking about? It’s only 7:30 and you’ve got nowhere to be…”
Haley could be cruel like that sometimes and she smiled that little smile that let you know, in a friendly way, that you hadn’t a hope. I sat back down.
“good.”
She may as well have winked. “I didn’t want to have to chase you down for a smoke later. Not with that cop wandering around anyways…”
“what cop?”
Jack shrugged impatiently “just your average power-tripping thug with a piece of metal in a flipbook.”
“well you were speeding…” Haley’s last comment made me almost choke on my own saliva,
“They gave you your car back? Are they nuts??”
“thanks” muttered jack.
“no man, I’m serious, the last time you took that thing out we all almost died. A few times!”
“we got where we were going didn’t we?”
“yeah sure but-”
“aw shut up guys. Jack’s learning how to control his hunk of metal, mike’s learning how to control his mouth, it’s all good.”
Haley. Peacemaker extraordinaire.
“besides,” muttered jack, “it wasn’t my speeding he was after. He wanted to talk to Haley, seemed to remember her from somewhere."
My eyes took in her faint blush, a rare experience for those brazen cheeks. “what did he want?”
Haley shrugged expansively “he just wanted to ask me some stuff”
“what did he ask you about?”
“Sex.”
I stared at her blankly.
“Isn’t that what everyone wants to know about these days?” she said as she tossed her hair casually and gave me a sidelong glance. You could tell that she’d practiced in front of the mirror for hours when she was around 14 but was now an expert. The flirting came so naturally to her it made me feel awkward.
“I’m sure you know enough for the group of us.”
Jack’s surliness never bothered me but I was eager to hear more from those cherry lips and his cynicism wasn’t going to get her talking.
*dialogue revealing that Haley fucks for money*
“You can’t argue with money.” said jack. I shuffled uncomfortably.
“It’s terribly agreeable.” said Haley.
***
We left the bar, tension was high. Mike on one side of me and Andrea on the other. Whatever that ancient laughing Turkish guy had slipped into their drinks whittled away at their rage but the irritability was still there and I began to feel anxious. I wanted this night to be like the first few had been but I seemed instead doomed to another evening of petty bickering and mild hallucinations.
We made our way to andrea’s apartment and when we got there we collapsed into our customary positions. Mike curled up in his usual fetal position and I sprawled out on the floor staring at the ceiling. It was white. There was a stain on it that looked like spilled coffee right where any idiot could see a light fixture belonged. Her landlord insisted that there were absolutely no problems with the heating and hydro. Andrea had long since rolled her eyes and assumed with a sigh that she must be imagining the stain as well. She lived her life regardless. While I thought about this, and let the stain become various celebrity faces in my head, mike began to drool and snore with his eyes wide open. It occurred to me then that the only time I saw that guy blink was when he was winking at somebody and I couldn’t remember if he alternated eyes.
Andrea was tidying her apartment like she always did when she was stressed or stoned. She was probably both. I was ripped from my reverie by a smash in the kitchen. What surprised me more was the lack of any kind of reaction. A startled scream, a curse, the clinking of any effort to clean up, anything. Obviously this disturbed mike as well because the glassiness in his eyes faded and he sat up rubbing his shoulder with his palm. We both shrugged and lurched our way to the kitchen. Andrea was standing, staring at the shattered mug on the floor. The look on her face suggested that it had been somebody’s face smashed on the floor and not the cheap mug that you just always found somewhere around the counter. She stood, motionless, barely breathing, staring.
Mike approached her softly and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move but some fire in her eyes flared, flickered and then went out. She blinked.
“what?” she barked.
“you’re… okay?” I asked. It seemed like a stupid question, probably because it was.
“yeah. Fine.” It was a stupid answer. I was thinking about how maybe it was a smart answer and it was in fact me who was stupid when she rounded on me with the knife. I was pretty surprised, but not too surprised to act. Of course I didn’t know what to do so I did what I usually do in those situations: the wrong thing.
I grabbed her by the wrist and kicked her in the shins. She flailed her other arm and slapped/clawed at my face. I grabbed the knife by the blade and pried it from her frantic clutch. She punched me in the stomach and ran from the apartment.
Mike got me some ice. We sat for some time, five minutes or so, in silence wondering what to do next. Mike cleaned up the spilled ceramic. I sat on the couch and stared at the wall. If the clock hadn’t been digital then the ticking would have driven me insane and I wouldn’t have known what time it was. Mike washed his hands and came back into the living room.
“we should try and find her.”
The calmness in his voice might have surprised someone who didn’t know him like I did but it was just me there. I shrugged.
“alright”
The perpetual shrug that was my life stretched into a complacent agreeableness and I was too out of it most of the time to really get upset by anything. I shrugged on my jacket and handed mike his. There was a knock at the door and mike opened it. His hand had been about to open it even before the knock so he caught andrea just before she hit the ground.
She was cold and pale. Her eyelids fluttered and then closed again. Mike and I muscled her onto the couch and then got a moistened towel to put on her forehead like you see in the movies. She lay there for a while. Limp, skinny. Bony as all hell really but the life will do that to you. She was wearing a loose burgundy sweater and ill-fitting jeans. She’d lost a shoe somewhere and her long brown hair was falling out of the clip she’d had it up in. without the glow in her cheeks she seemed like half a person but this thought only lasted a second in my mind because that’s about when she woke up.
She grabbed mike’s hand immediately and for a second I feared some new attack but she just held it to her chest and cried. Giant heaving sobs wracking her slender frame.
“I’m so sorry” she sobbed. She looked sorry. She was.
‘it’s okay.” Mike and I both said at once. What else could we have said? It was.
Andrea pulled mike close to herself and leaned her head against his shoulder. Her eyes closed and as silent tears rolled down her pallid cheeks she whispered: “I don’t know what happened… I don’t… it doesn’t…”
“it’s alright” I said as soothingly as possible. I didn’t have the tact to realize I wasn’t needed. She would have raised her voice if she thought she needed to. Instead, she whispered when she said
“no it’s not. Shit like that can’t just happen. I could have hurt one of you! I could have hurt myself. Why? It’s that damned mirror, I know it is!”
Mike tried to calm her “it was just a chip drew.”
“what do you know?” she almost shouted. “that thing has been driving me fucking crazy with its negative energy since you hit it with that bottle.”
“it’ll balance out”
How mike dealt with andrea’s new wave bullshit was beyond me. I would’ve hit her, hard, a long time ago. But they seemed to have something working for them. His indifference coupled with her self-absorption was a surprisingly effective combination.
***
“Drop the knife!” she screamed.
I refused. I was being unreasonable I knew, but that crooked blade was all I had left in this world and I wasn’t going to lose it for something as trivial as my life.
“for fuck’s sake you asshole! Drop the fucking knife! It’s just metal! Do you want to die for a machine?!”
The panic in andrea’s voice didn’t alarm me, and her idealistic views only fuelled my stubborn rage.
‘it’s a tool you fucking new age whore!” I yelled back and with that I made possibly the biggest mistake of my life. I lunged at her with the blade and she dove out of the way, onto the highway below. I don’t know if she hit a car before she hit the ground because I followed through like you’re supposed to when you’re stabbing someone. I would have met the same end as she did if mike hadn’t snapped out of his dream world right then and grabbed me slowing me and then us down just enough to keep me from dropping. The strength of my thrust hurled us both over the edge and with a presence of mind neither one of us would have expected in ourselves let alone each other, we each grabbed on to the beam supporting the bridge,
“FUCK!” mike yelled. The word didn’t echo but it should have, and to this day it rings in my e
ars.
“fuck.” I said. I was too scared to scream and I was trying to focus all my energy into my hands. That railing I thought, had better not break before we do.
“I’M NOT GONNA FUCKIN DIE HERE!” mike wailed. My lips were sealed. I felt like I should say something comforting, should say anything at all, but I didn’t want to so I didn’t. why comfort a dead man? Because he isn’t dead yet! I answered myself.
“hey man?” I said softly, or would have if the screaming hadn’t begun right then. It was 9pm then and by 9:05 I gave up trying to scream over him. I focused on myself and on blocking out the bursts of hysterical fear. No one could hear us, what was he thinking? He wasn’t, I knew. His eyes were vacant and despite the fact that I couldn’t see them, I knew they’d be glazed and open and round and blue and full of apocalyptic terror.
The night grew thicker and I could feel the weight of my mistakes pressing in on me. My head ached but I knew I could not let go. all night I clung to that bridge and did anything I could to keep my mind from wandering. Mike screamed. I couldn’t see him but I knew he was there because he kept screaming all night. At the moon, at the stars, at me, and mostly, I think, at himself. For letting the world become what it was and for being too weak and too stupid to do anything about it.
My hatred and my rage, already spent in previous engagements, left me devoid of any emotion. My fingers clenched tightly around the steel beam, my feet dangling uselessly. All the strength I had and a lot I didn’t was invested in my fists. It was the least I could do not to fall. And why not fall? I answered myself quickly, because I didn’t want mike’s frantic screams, beyond terror gone to complete hysteria, to be the last thing I ever heard. Almost unfortunately they weren’t.
It was at that point that I began to black out. It wasn’t until mike stopped screaming that I snapped back to myself. His constant yelling had become so regular that its sudden cessation shocked me into a reluctant consciousness. He must have dropped I thought, and now it’s my turn. It’s all over now, what a waste.
A hand gripped both my wrists halfway through this thought and I felt myself falling. Instead of the rushing wind and then the fatal connection with the highway below I’d been expecting, I felt my head smack against the cold bridge, saw mike lying next to me, wide eyed and mouth agape, mid scream. There seemed to be a lot going on around me but all I could think of was how I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to use my hands again, and that maybe I didn’t want to.
I woke up in a sterilized heaven. My entire body ached and I was hooked up to some crazy machine but if somebody seemed to want me alive then that made two of us. I experimented with my left arm, trying to lift it. It took an immense amount of effort. I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. All I could remember was the helplessness of my dangling feet and the frenzied, then desperate, and then desolate howling from mike’s throat. Mike’s swollen jugular jumped behind my eyes and then I wondered, where was he? And where was a nurse or a doctor or something? If I was out cold weren’t they supposed to check in on me every few minutes? I lay there, scared, angry and confused until I fell asleep. No dreams. Nourishing and cleansing sleep and above all, nightmare free.
***
work in progress.....
growing up
I'm not sure where i'm standing
on an island in the shade
the sun a distant memory
beating down heavily
colder than rain
harsher than sleet
pebbles falling at my feet.
The future is big, blank and looming.
the present is bleak with it's petulant musing
and the past is muddled, cross and confusing
Sleep wells up in my heart
and i lay down to rest
but my eyes are forced open
reluctant dreams weigh on my chest.
I can't pretend to like this place
it fills me with despair
moments of fleeting hope are rare.
Rhymes are a simple satisfaction.
they lend themselves to the kind of distraction
that holds a certain amount of attraction
to a soul in a place that's as doleful as this.
i'd give anything for a moment of bliss
but despite that respite i would feel my strength yield
perhaps i should throw myself further afield...
but i burned that bridge and closed that door
so now i'll rhyme a little more
if it keeps me from thinking and feeling and being
i can't close my eyes and i cant handle seeing
the things in my head
they twist and they pull
and they fill my heart till it's overly full
and i sit here awake
feeling awkward and low.
a little more distant with every non blow
to my concious confidence
broken and shamed.
and here i am again and again.
i'd hate for these tremors to pass undetected
and for these reflections to break unreflected.
but for now let me stand unadorned, uncorrected.
i am who i am and not a thing more
but sometimes
i wish
things could be like before.
on an island in the shade
the sun a distant memory
beating down heavily
colder than rain
harsher than sleet
pebbles falling at my feet.
The future is big, blank and looming.
the present is bleak with it's petulant musing
and the past is muddled, cross and confusing
Sleep wells up in my heart
and i lay down to rest
but my eyes are forced open
reluctant dreams weigh on my chest.
I can't pretend to like this place
it fills me with despair
moments of fleeting hope are rare.
Rhymes are a simple satisfaction.
they lend themselves to the kind of distraction
that holds a certain amount of attraction
to a soul in a place that's as doleful as this.
i'd give anything for a moment of bliss
but despite that respite i would feel my strength yield
perhaps i should throw myself further afield...
but i burned that bridge and closed that door
so now i'll rhyme a little more
if it keeps me from thinking and feeling and being
i can't close my eyes and i cant handle seeing
the things in my head
they twist and they pull
and they fill my heart till it's overly full
and i sit here awake
feeling awkward and low.
a little more distant with every non blow
to my concious confidence
broken and shamed.
and here i am again and again.
i'd hate for these tremors to pass undetected
and for these reflections to break unreflected.
but for now let me stand unadorned, uncorrected.
i am who i am and not a thing more
but sometimes
i wish
things could be like before.
happiness etc
we whittle our days away... rasping incessantly as time falls away in days and hours and minutes and seconds. moment upon moment laid to waste only to be reborn in the next instant... but there are moments in time that seem to hold us pleasantly hostage, a smile, a sound, a song, a long serene second of bliss handed to you accidentally by a stranger. and it is these moments that we must treasure if we are going to achieve what for lack of a better word we call happiness. so i'd like to take amoment to ask you to close your eyes, after having read this of course, and to think back. try to recall the kindest most heartwarming thing anyone has ever said to you. remember it. in your mind, regardless of what may or may not have come to pass after, think on that person with kindness for at least a moment. learn to control your grudges, if not to forsake them, then to hold them at bay for a moment or two so that they do not tarnish all of your life with a putrid fear. now think back, wander backwards in your mind and try to remember, what was the kindest most heartwarming thing you'v ever said to or done for another person? don't focus on whether or not they returned the favour, don't remember if they were as warmed by it as you were. focus only on the feelings that inspired you to say or do what you said or did, and how it must have felt to let those things fly.
it is a short exercise and can easily be done, in the shower, on the train, in any spare moment you have, to make any or every day that one bit more pleasant.
it is a short exercise and can easily be done, in the shower, on the train, in any spare moment you have, to make any or every day that one bit more pleasant.
Hope, every day.
You postulate as to the stifling averageness of the world around you and seem to forget the inherent balance that is in all things. Balance, not justice, for justice is a man made evil. One may live in a constant search for happiness or something greater but the hope that is essential to any and every human endeavor, struggle, failure, victory and triumph however insignificant or otherwise, that hope is the one thing that can be killed only by that which is unattainable. In our very quest for happiness we seek to do no more than destroy its very potential. How glorious to live in a place that so conveniently gives fuel to our hope, our search, our passionate (or dispassioate as the case may be) quest for something that is by all logical reasoning probably nonexistant. Such is happiness, and if you'll pardon the cliche, such is God, the man made embodiment of hope, the shell in which lies all that we held dear at one time, until as a species we outgrew it and now we wear it like a shoe two sizes too small and filled with stones and bits of resentful glass.
Hope, an excersize in being human, can seem inhumane at times, beneath the dignity of any man. What kind of cruel inclination would dare to drag a man from the depths to which he has sunk and hand him such dreams, such dreams... they fool him, persuade him, cheat him. He thinks that he can fly (though no man has wings) if only he could get high enough, far enough from the ground to fall indefinitely. And he does not meet his end as a bloodied spatter on the sidewalk under a thirty story building and a brief blurb in a local paper, no! Because his search is in vain. He will never find the tower he seeks because all constructs of man are rooted firmly to the ground one way or another. An airplane may crash brilliantly into the sea, or sail smoothly into its port, but either way it returns to harbour in the base dirt of earth and reality such as it is. It is only faith and hope, and faith in hope, and hoping for faith that is eternal, everpresent and always just out of reach, like a dollar on a string dangling in front of your greedy little eyes attached to your screaming mind. 'GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE IT TO ME!' you almost beg of the universe but truth be told, you wouldnt know what to do with it.
Search on, live one day at a time, one after the next, make merry, make money, and pray that you do not find what you crave because it is that very craving that keeps you alive and striving to pulse from one heartbeat to the next.
Hope, an excersize in being human, can seem inhumane at times, beneath the dignity of any man. What kind of cruel inclination would dare to drag a man from the depths to which he has sunk and hand him such dreams, such dreams... they fool him, persuade him, cheat him. He thinks that he can fly (though no man has wings) if only he could get high enough, far enough from the ground to fall indefinitely. And he does not meet his end as a bloodied spatter on the sidewalk under a thirty story building and a brief blurb in a local paper, no! Because his search is in vain. He will never find the tower he seeks because all constructs of man are rooted firmly to the ground one way or another. An airplane may crash brilliantly into the sea, or sail smoothly into its port, but either way it returns to harbour in the base dirt of earth and reality such as it is. It is only faith and hope, and faith in hope, and hoping for faith that is eternal, everpresent and always just out of reach, like a dollar on a string dangling in front of your greedy little eyes attached to your screaming mind. 'GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE IT TO ME!' you almost beg of the universe but truth be told, you wouldnt know what to do with it.
Search on, live one day at a time, one after the next, make merry, make money, and pray that you do not find what you crave because it is that very craving that keeps you alive and striving to pulse from one heartbeat to the next.
inertia
I stand at the corner and watch the lights change. red to green. I was supposed to cross, I could remember that. but why? Was i going somewhere? where? how? i was walking. i must have been walking, since i'm standing, at a corner, watching the lights change. from red to green. words like eternity and forever sound stupid in my head, even stupider out loud. i wonder why. and how? i think about silence, and how i dont believe in it anymore. no such thing. no such thing. no such thing. this urban nightmare is home and any alternative a perpetual shade of grey. while i stand on this corner in a perpetual struggle between red and green. stop and go. go. go. that's why i'm here. to go. how can you go if you never stop? that's why there are two colours. two shapes. the hand on a post, she tells me to stop. the walking man, he tells me to go. but i dont believe them. it's too simple, too obvious. i see them every day, lying to me. telling me i'll be safe if i just listen to them and do what they say. stop and go, red and green. sometimes yellow. telling me to slow down. red. green. yellow. like an ugly bruise covered with cheap facepaint. greasy, smiling, filth. standing on a corner. waiting for the change. from red to green. waiting for something to happen. waiting for a push, a shove, anything. monotony sounds stupid out loud. even stupider in my head. from red to green. sometimes yellow. always yellow. a perpetual state of slowing down.
navel gazing
Always with one foot in the door, never passing through. But I swear to the moon and the stars, and to any other objective witnesses if such witnesses there are; that like the man stuck under a boulder alone in the woods or the mountains, oblivious to the sound of a tree falling or one hand clapping, I will gnaw off that foot if I must. Rip and tear at my very own flesh to escape this lonely ugly place. With one foot in the door and the other in my mouth, it's a wonder that I can walk or speak at all. Figuratively or not, no thing is so great as the great nothing that i am becoming. Creativity atrophied into laxative excuses. No more uses. I will grow, I will change. I will meet you on the other side.
I talk to the wind
I’m jealous of everyone that I see
Talking to the wind when it wont talk to me.
The words are malicious
They snap and they bite
And my throat clenches up with each word that I write.
I choke and I spit
I flail and I thrash
the spit on my lips once burnt is now ash.
And I lick it away all that I can
But I’m still standing here where I was, who I am.
I know that this feeling is mine and not borrowed
I’ve felt all those things, I’ve laughed and I’ve sorrowed.
This day is a new one
Bright and sincere
The sun in it’s rising, banishes fear
And my heart beats again
With strength and with light
Fills me with honesty, vigour and might.
Courage drips from my lips to my chin
I feel the darkness welling within
But I no longer fight it, we’re one, it and i
And I don’t need to stop it
I wont even try
Because I have the strength to go forward with grace
The dubious honour of leaving this place.
And the scars will remind me of lessons well learned
Of passion expended and gratitude earned.
I am the best of the people i’ve been
I know what I want and I know what I mean.
The wind whispers to me
Promising love
But I’ve opened my eyes and I’ve seen what’s above
so all I can do is step lively, step strong
And know that I’m standing right where I belong.
Cause that’s anywhere my sure feet choose to take me
They’ve always been with me, they’ll never forsake me
When all I’ve got left are my feet and my hands
And the rest of my body has made it’s demands
I will go to my rest
Full of pride, as is right.
And the wind can keep talking if that’s what it likes.
Talking to the wind when it wont talk to me.
The words are malicious
They snap and they bite
And my throat clenches up with each word that I write.
I choke and I spit
I flail and I thrash
the spit on my lips once burnt is now ash.
And I lick it away all that I can
But I’m still standing here where I was, who I am.
I know that this feeling is mine and not borrowed
I’ve felt all those things, I’ve laughed and I’ve sorrowed.
This day is a new one
Bright and sincere
The sun in it’s rising, banishes fear
And my heart beats again
With strength and with light
Fills me with honesty, vigour and might.
Courage drips from my lips to my chin
I feel the darkness welling within
But I no longer fight it, we’re one, it and i
And I don’t need to stop it
I wont even try
Because I have the strength to go forward with grace
The dubious honour of leaving this place.
And the scars will remind me of lessons well learned
Of passion expended and gratitude earned.
I am the best of the people i’ve been
I know what I want and I know what I mean.
The wind whispers to me
Promising love
But I’ve opened my eyes and I’ve seen what’s above
so all I can do is step lively, step strong
And know that I’m standing right where I belong.
Cause that’s anywhere my sure feet choose to take me
They’ve always been with me, they’ll never forsake me
When all I’ve got left are my feet and my hands
And the rest of my body has made it’s demands
I will go to my rest
Full of pride, as is right.
And the wind can keep talking if that’s what it likes.
Edge of doubt
edge of doubt
You who never waver, you who never fall
I'm brought to my knees til they bleed and they rot.
Tend to my wounds like a priest with his flock.
You who never stumble, never rock. i falter with every step when i walk.
Every glance, gesture, a romance of inelegant destruction.
There is a beauty, so pungent i often feel myself pushed roughly against it.
I want to taste it and feel it melting down my thighs and my breasts.
But it will cloy and stick and stink if it is impure.
It is only in abysmal fantasy that i can do what is just
and i just want to peel off my sweaty flesh and begin again.
From fetus to fornication i am steeped in sin.
A strange kindness settles as the hairs on your back are no longer raised.
evening descends and your fingers trace lines with my imagination.
we are all a gallery of shame.
our hearts at war with infinite laws
and every triumph is a tragedy of a thousand eyes swimming upstream.
warm your hands by the fire
a soul burns out every moment
the heat dwindles and flickers making monsters with the light.
new life
new hope
never enough to melt the shadow that penetrates me with vigorous thrusts.
a new life i'm tempted to leave in the dust. but i can only do what i must.
You who never waver, you who never fall
I'm brought to my knees til they bleed and they rot.
Tend to my wounds like a priest with his flock.
You who never stumble, never rock. i falter with every step when i walk.
Every glance, gesture, a romance of inelegant destruction.
There is a beauty, so pungent i often feel myself pushed roughly against it.
I want to taste it and feel it melting down my thighs and my breasts.
But it will cloy and stick and stink if it is impure.
It is only in abysmal fantasy that i can do what is just
and i just want to peel off my sweaty flesh and begin again.
From fetus to fornication i am steeped in sin.
A strange kindness settles as the hairs on your back are no longer raised.
evening descends and your fingers trace lines with my imagination.
we are all a gallery of shame.
our hearts at war with infinite laws
and every triumph is a tragedy of a thousand eyes swimming upstream.
warm your hands by the fire
a soul burns out every moment
the heat dwindles and flickers making monsters with the light.
new life
new hope
never enough to melt the shadow that penetrates me with vigorous thrusts.
a new life i'm tempted to leave in the dust. but i can only do what i must.
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