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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
The Doors
And so I miss my bus last night, just miss it but I'm in luck, the boys, they want to go for a drink. It's Stampede. And so I catch a ride downtown, go for a drink with them at King Henry VIII on Stephen Ave. Mall because they don't want to wait in line to go anyplace better and I don't care, I'm sweaty and still dressed for work and all I really want to do is to go home and shower and go to bed.
Now I don't smoke. Or only cigarettes, which is probably the worst of the vices. But the boys, they smoke, and the smoke pools in the back seat of the car where I'm sat and by the time we're parked downtown I'm already pretty fucked up.
At the bar I drink my drink, quickly, it's filled with other people who didn't want to wait and get into better bars, all looking about as happy as we are. I finish my drink and then go to catch the connecting bus home.
And I'm pretty fucked up, whatever they were smoking it was pretty good if I can be fucked up after sitting in the back seat of the car for 10 minutes and drinking a single beer. And I don't feel nauseous, which is a good thing as I seem to recall it being the reason I never pursued that particular vice. So I wait at the bus stop and notice the people, all the people, they're looking at me, they know how fucked up I am and I see a group of chinese tourists coming down the street in these sheer raincoats, you can see their bras and knickers beneath, and I turn away because I don't want to stare, to seem like I'm all fucked up and they pass and it's a group of blobby young teenagers, not the chinese tourists I thought they were, and I realize that I'm pretty fucked up.
But I'm concentrating on waiting for the bus, ignoring the many staring people around me....
The bus comes and I get on and find a seat and I have to concentrate now, concentrate on the stop I have to get off at, I could imagine very easily missing it, riding the bus all night until the driver kicks me off, and I just want to get home...
The regulars, the bus has regulars, depending on the hour you board it, they're all there. And I'm in the midst of life, in tune with it all, not apart or above as usually I am but right there in the midst of it all and I tune their conversations in and out, move my concentration about the bus and capture the snippets of their conversation....
...and I realize that they're all pretty fucked up as well. I had never noticed before, had overheard but not paid attention, thought them boring, irrelevant, whatever, but tonight, tonight I realize, tonight I'm on their page, I understand just how fucked up everyone really is.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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The Stampede has begun to take it's toll, cancellations, slow lunches, evenings.
It would be a relief were it not for the heat. There's air conditioning, but it doesn't help much, at all, it's stand around in a vest and tie and feel your life blood ebbing away.
There's the making of notes, the other staff find me mysterious as I hack away in my journal, elaborating upon brief flashes of inspiration, cutting down inspiration as it ripens and is ready to harvest, there's a lot of catching up to be done...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1751
Because I was too lazy to go for coffee, it was getting late and the view from my bench is just fine.
I feel a bit like Forest Gump just sitting there...
You watch the river, Canada geese circling the islands, the odd lone beaver swimming, the silence punctuated by joggers and odd couples walking and talking quietly amongst themselves.
It's grey, cool, cloudy, occasional stray raindrops splash onto my notebook, smudge the ink, no real threat, just aimless drops.
Sitting, watching, the grey clouds run like a band down the center of the sky, to the east it's all blue, to the west you can see a break low on the horizon.
Sounds of the river, of people passing, traffic.
And now the sun has passed the clouds and for 5, 6 minutes perhaps the sky, the river is lit up, no longer grey but blue and green with white caps on the waves, reflected sunlight, a thousand silvery winged motes hang in the air, the leaves and trees acquire a gem-like coloring, jewel tone shadings of phthalo green, pastel orange-yellow-grey clouds on a cerulean blue sky, it's been an hour on the bench for 5 minutes of perfection, the sun brilliant and low on the horizon, now behind a tree and you can see climbing into the sky the crepuscular rays, and my time is done.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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And the 2nd armchair is gone, gone the same way as the first which is good as I didn't like to see them separated, not after their having been together so long. I left it on the front step and the lady who purchased the first came and retrieved it.
I thought, briefly, of writing some torrid ancient love letters and hiding them in the stuffing, or a map to some lost familial treasure, but there wasn't enough time, and really, at the price, it wasn't worth the effort. Or a letter congratulating her on her fine financial acumen, congratulating her on the deal she acquired, maybe even a first person letter letting her know how glad the chair was to be reunited with it's more beautiful twin. But again, not enough time, and certainly not at that price.
The important thing is that they're gone, and there's a hole in the living room where they used to be but I think to myself that it's 2 less chairs I'll have to move.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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The cat's running across the lawn, mouth bristling with feathers, she's caught a newly fledged robin and I bend down to take it from her, check it to see if it's all right, still alive, the cat looks sheepish as if to try and tell me she found it hurt and was bringing it to me, she looks indifferent to it, the parents have followed along and are squawking from nearby trees.
It appears to be all right and I settle it in my palms, smooth the feathers, it's unable to fly, the cat disinterestedly, innocently watches from the front step.
Now what?
I take the shrine to the beloved Fatima bird feeder and prop it head height in a nearby tree. I settle the fledgling in it, here he (she) should be safe, hopefully the parents can handle the rest. The cat, she's staying in the rest of the day.
By the next morning the robin was gone.