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Fevered Dreams
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2043
No surprise, then, when the restaurant was finally done, finally, finally closed, that I should fall sick. It's been 4 months of back and forth, couch-surfing the most challenging of situations, and no sooner than the restaurant is finally done and I'm waiting for my cheque than I fall sick.
Chest, flu, hot, cold, fever. But I'm hanging on for my cheque, once I'm paid I can get out of here, wake up early, get out of the house, see daughter, go to cafe's, errands, thrifting, pass the time until it's late enough and safe enough to return. The cheque, due any day, but not, and every day passes with the disappointment of another day in Calgary...
I'm sick, but I'm suppressing it.
Finally, late Saturday night the final cheque, Sunday morning I'm off. The temporary setback of no banks open is overcome by the fact I have a release on my bank account, I'm surprised, cautiously check it out, withdraw enough to pay my host for the past few weeks, then I'm off...
Not nearly as happy as I should be, all things considered, but the weather is cold, drear, blizzarding in spots, the roads good and then treacherous, and this return to the Kootenays, I'm not sure this will be home either, where is home?, and this gets me thinking...
Wildlife, bighorn sheep, deer, moose, caribou...
The drive, long, exhausting, I'm sick, lacking in inspiration, imagination...
...and finally, home "ish", the woodshed, turn up the heat, wait, the next 2 days sleeping 20 hours per day, fevered sweats and dreams, of restaurants, filled with unexpected customers, unannounced, paper napkins heaped over on Corelle plates...the customers aren't ready to order, everywhere I look new tables that haven't been served...
...a funeral, 4 young indian girls carrying the black coffin of their schoolmate...
...looking for the restaurant, the new restaurant, on 4 street, they need my help only I can't find it, the new restaurant, don't care, don't want to...
Waking up, every couple of hours, the sheets soaking, falling back asleep, it's to be expected, this has been the longest 4 months of my life and I'm glad it's over, but now, perplexed as to what should come next, and I know but this is the natural detoxification...
Get Out
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 1760
Saw this with the daughter, it was brilliant and perfectly captured the experience of being black in America. Not that I'm in a position to know, but the general tone - the references to "I Voted for Obama" and "Tiger Woods was the best Golfer" - the pure vanilla of the girlfriends family, the scene where he's forced to watch the "happy white american family" on the TV - it works on a lot of levels. The twist, well, it's good, but hardly necessary, all the horrors of cultural appropriation and assimilation are there well beforehand...
Brimstone and Treacle
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 1791
An oldie but a goodie, Uncomfortable, visceral, for a time banned, easy enough to imagine the Nephew in the role of Sting, it shows just how valuable a competent writer is to a script. Which is not to suggest you'll like it, most probably you won't, it deals with any number of uncomfortable issues, but some would argue that's the point...
Demons Hate Demons
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2350
And the owner's girlfriend, she's been in every night for the past week. Every night from when we open until we close. She makes her reservations surreptitiously, under the assumed identity of "friends" - she eats, drinks, for free, her guests get a deal. She's the princess, she arrives early to peruse the reservations, spots the people she might know, hangs about waiting for them to arrive, ...
She's a nightmare. She lends out his truck, then seeks out his permission in front of the guests she's promised it to, she promises them space at "our villa in Italy", he has to show up dutifully and rubber stamp his approval, it's not "our villa", it's his, it's not hers to lend out, but what little he has left is slipping away,..
...hearing him scream in the kitchen at special requests, wooden faced, before recommending her own special menu "modifications" to her friends...she's been the girlfriend for what, 2 years, we've all seen a lot of whores come and go, she knows his triggers, knows we'll bear the brunt of her recommendations, she has no manners or class....
The good customers, the ones we've liked, they've made their goodbyes, come in, teary eyed, decent people to whom the the restaurant meant a lot of good and shared memories over the years. But, for the most part, they've come and gone, others won't be given the chance, space is tight and the girlfriend, she's in every night using it up, inviting her friends and co-workers The real, paying regulars, the ones that have been coming for 20 or 30 years, their place is usurped by her momentary fame. The owners friends, they're polite with her, conceal their contempt, for the most part, their only seeing her once a month, once a week tops. She's been in every day the past week, and all this getting along, it's one-sided and I'm arriving early at the finish line.
"I'm just white trash" she tells us, but she overstates it, the nephew, he dates white trash, but she's a few levels below even him, the owner's friends, they all see through her, hater her guts, the staff the same, gritting my teeth, 4, now 3 long days to go, she'll be in every night.
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