Lys

Firstly

 

The land may have changed but the stars are the same

As the night I first stood on my own;

The water’s as wet as it was when we met

When I chose not to live life alone;

The air that was there when our babies were born

Is mostly the same (though more cold);

And all that’s aflame will extinguish the same--

But how did I get to be old?

 

I’ve sown on the earth so much more than my worth

That I puzzle: from whence did it come?

And blood multiplies whether dumb whether wise

Increasing in balance and sum;

My words have enacted, my words have impacted,

Events unforeseen and untold;

While still burns my heart for you as from the start for you--

How did we grow to be old?

 

Secondly

 

In this dream--a one in twenty-five thousand, as so I estimate the number of dreams I’ve had--I have a collected set of compact discs (by whom? I don’t quite recall) and I’ve lost or damaged the final platter of ‘em. So what do I do? Fortunately I’m working at a place that’s like The Bob Miller Bookroom only it deals in music and such--this is because Fabio Parovel worked at HMV when I worked at the bookstore--so I order a new set and return the one I have (that’s missing the last disk, remember) and everything works out in the end. I have my disks, and everything’s swell.

Unfortunately (so I invent), all this results in a mid-air collision over Albuquerque. YES, I am GUILTY of it.

You see, responsibility spread thinly across everyone results in a loss of responsibility. It’s axiomatic!

But in a narrative (of any sort) we have to privilege that which is contained in the narrative. Thus, logic itself gets defined by the narrative. And in a narrative we can’t appeal to reason outside itself. (Consider how far you could get reading an Alice book if you demanded external i.e. worldly logic! Not very far--I’ve tried! haha.) So if you’re forced to believe in the interconnectivity of everything, you have no choice.

Leave Walter alone!

 

Thirdly

 

Whenever I’m at the Museum of Modern Art and I hear someone say, "My five-year-old could do that!" I always say, "Your five-year-old can stretch and prime a canvas?"

 

Everyone’s talking about bringing Islam into the twenty-first century. Heck, I’d settle for it getting into the eleventh century.

 

Faulting Athens for not outlawing slavery is like faulting the Ancien Régime for not inventing television.

 

Fourthly (Monster)

 

A very evocative title! Memorable and terse

You’ve really captured this character well. Off to a good start

This is implausible but I expect it to pay off!

There! You tricked me! Just when you thought you’d seen it all

Heavenly phraseology

I want to skip ahead--very tense

This is fulfilling of last semester’s promise

Unbelievable--in a good way!

This will be so easy published

Where are you getting these words from?

Four syllables: Steven Spielberg

Are your parents gifted too--I have a theory

Fantastic

Last paragraph’s always nerve-wracking

Even the last word is gemlike

I’m exhausted--what a rollercoaster ride!

A++++!

See me

 

Fifthly

 

-Fifth lesson, we’re on the fifth lesson. Where are we?

-I think we’re on lesson five, sir.

-Right you are, in an essential phenomenological way. What part of the fifth lesson, d’ye think?

-5.1? 5.a? How about 5.a.1?

-I like the sound of that one! Yes, 5.a.1 is the place to start! Why?

-Is it because it sounds scientific?

-Yes, yes, but why else?

-Because it implies ... incompleteness?

-No. I mean, yes! And why?

-Because we’ll have to have a total of three arguments at least.

-Name them.

-There would be 5.a.1, 5.a.2, and 5.b. Minimally.

-We would be able to fill at least twelve minutes with that. Correct?

-I’m paying for a full hour, sir

-Quite right! So we’ll need more subdivisions! How many can we have?

-In the third lesson we got up to 3.ad.27.f.1 and 3.ad.27.f.2.

-Oh my, wasn’t that extraordinarily scientific of us? Or is the term scientistic? Which is the positive term and which the negative?

-Generally speaking, scientific is the good one.

-Very well, scientific. What were those arguments again?

-I’ll go back into my notes. 3.ad.27.f.1. "The shorter the nose, the more susceptible to arthritis." 3.ad.27.f.2. "Likewise, covalence depends on the possession of a non-deviated septum."

-Goodness, what reasoning! One can only hope to reach such a summit again!

-Perhaps today is that day.

-So: off we go: 5.a.1. Two thoughts. Where there are two thoughts there are three.

 

Sixthly

 

Dear London Auntie,

I can’t make up my mind! On my recent Progress through Italy, I found myself in the care and guidance of a horse-master in the employ of the King of Pareto. He was very attentive (I should say!) and a prince of the "photography of the boudoir" as he called it. Now I am back in Bath, and I have received from him a letter asking me to return. He says he regrets not introducing me to his friends, and family. Should I go?

 

Without a doubt you should go! Life is for the living, and you only live once. Wrap your troubles in dreams, and godspeed!

 

Dear London Auntie,

Recently I have been having the urge to kill prostitutes. Whither from whence do these urges come? Perhaps it is because my mother was a filthy slut; perhaps it is because my father was an homosexual pederast. (Who knows the nature of our souls?) I have discovered a method of murder that is not only foolproof but will allow me the chance to eat whore liver (which I believe to be the finest anywhere. However, I am hesitating. Do you think I should go ahead with my plan?

 

Without a doubt, you should proceed! Life is for the living, and you only live once. Wrap your troubles in dreams, and godspeed!

 

Seventhly (On the Beach)

 

You’re seen one, so you think you’ve seen them all. For example, today we went to a beach in the north part of Port Hood. We walked past a shower- and wash-room and a building that some time in the past sold foodie goodies. (I had never seen either before.) Then down a sandy path over a couple big dunes, past some rocks, and finally we were at the water’s edge. We walked left some distance and dropped our junk there. Behind us was something of a tidal bore; a long split running away diagonally from the shore. I climbed up, I climbed through; it was entirely familiar, but I had never been there before. Or I had been there before and had forgotten. One or the other had to be true and the other false. If the latter is true, so be it. If the former is true, then what beach was I thinking of? There’s a possibility I had ‘merely’ dreamt of such a place. In the end, what can we know? Maybe half of what we see comes from our dreams, cleverly disguised as real experience. Like I said, it was very hot on that beach, and the sun almost certainly fried up my brains.

 

Eighthly

 

It was right there.

I called Peter, "Come in my office, I’m having trouble with your spreadsheet."

He came immediately.

Why so quickly?, I wondered. I am his boss, and female. He was there, standing on the other side of my desk. "Come here, take a look at this."

And it was right there.

I was sitting, in my expensive ergonomic chair, and he was standing right beside me. I could smell him.

"I can’t get it to spit out the right info. It wants to start on the 29th of May; I was it to start on the first day of June."

It was right there. He didn’t bend over. I’m his female boss, and it was right there.

He said, "I think you’re pulling the info from the wrong table. Show me your formula."

I opened my sheet for him to see. His vision was extraordinary. He could see it clearly from way up there.

"Change your source. That’s all.

"I can see what you’re doing. I’ve done it myself."

It was right there.

Then he left.

I took a pill.

My hands went into my lap.

It had been right there.

 

Ninthly

 

St Peter said, "And on we go. Now the next page of your Book is curious. All it says is, ‘penis enlarger.’ What can you tell me about that?"

"Oh golly. Do I really have to tell you about that?"

"Yup."

"It wasn’t a real penis enlarger. So why does the Book say that?"

"This is the book of your soul. It’s not the Sears catalog. You called it that."

"Huh. Well, it was actually a kind of a vacuum cylinder. I think it was supposed to be used for making foamy sauces or something. But when I saw it there in Walmart, I thought: penis enlarger."

"Naturally."

"What?"

"I am cracking wise."

"Hmm, well, don’t quit your day job."

"I won’t. So, about your penis."

"I took it into a dressing room."

"Oh my God."

"And I ... tried it on. Just then, a fire alarm went off. So I pulled up my pants and out I went."

"With it still attached, I suppose."

"Yes."

"Theft."

"Yes."

"You detached it since then, I see."

"Yes, as soon as I could."

"And kept it."

"I felt I couldn’t very well return it, could I?"

"I suppose not." St Peter tore the page out and shoved it into a fold of his robe. You are forgiven this one."

"What are you going to do with the sheet?"

"An aide-mémoire.

"I write comic novels."

 

Tenthly (some truth)

 

Mary told me that Sarah was off to stay with [---], the daughter of Rose. [---] was living with her aunt and not her mother, Rose, because, as [---] has it, Rose is insane.

Later that day we met up with Rose. We chatted with her in the office of the cottages. I was looking and listening very carefully, looking for the signs of madness, and, indeed, I detected more than one.

Still later that day I told Mary that perhaps there was something to the idea that Rose is mad, whereupon Mary laughed to tell me that the Rose (the mother of [---]) to whom references of madness had been made was not the Rose I had examined for insanity that day. Two different people, entirely unrelated.

Which leads to the hypothesis that all women named Rose are to some degree insane.

 

Another day, as we were walking along the highway from one place to another, a large young white dog came bounding up to us. Naive, the thing was bounding back on forth on the road (of two lanes). We got the dog over to Seaside Convenience where (must I note reluctantly?) the manager took a photo of the dog and posted the picture on some kind of community page on Facebook.

(I was incredibly angry for some time. I imagined cutting off the owner’s head.)

Later that day, when we were going in the other direction, we stopped at Seaside Convenience so I could buy cigarettes. The owner was there; the dog’s master had been located; the dog had been out all night. I think they were re-united not long after. I hope so.

 

Eleventhly

 

Everything has to come to an end, and this thing is coming to an end.

I wish I had time to thank everyone involved, but I don’t.

After all, it’s taken me fifty years to write this.

Farewell, all! This is the end! Not much more! Just ... goodbyes!

There’s something terrible about endings. Maybe that’s why I employ them so much.

Time to sign off, time to close the volume. Time to look out the window. End.

Touché!

As a Comedian

 

As a professional comedian, I was yesterday called upon to participate in what’s called ‘laugh therapy’ in an old folks home. This is how the comedians guild works. They tell you to go some place, so you go.

This is what I said.

“Nice to see you all here. You know, in show biz there’s a principle: captive audience vs. incaptive audience. Well, you’re the most captive audience I’ll ever see.

“You know what I don’t like? I don’t like seeing children being treated like they’re geriatrics. You know what I mean? I see it all the time. You know, you gotta hide the car keys from them, because who knows what shit they’ll get into.

“Then there’s the thing about their forgetfulness. Wait, no, diapers. You gotta spend all the time cleaning up  your baby’s shit, it’s like he’s an old man!

“Another thing: you can’t talk to them proper. They’re all daft. Tell a kid something, faint chance he’ll get it. Like he’s an oldster. Know what I mean?

“Should I be pitying you? Nah, you babies. Odds are I’ll be sitting in your places one day. Like a baby again. Helpless. Idiotic. Comedy fodder.”

 

***

 

Participant Observation

 

On Friday afternoon, I went out for a cigarette and to read a little. When I finished my cigarette I dropped it on the ground and snuffed it out with my shoe.

“Hey, man, can you help me out?”

I knew what he wanted. “What?”

“I just need two bucks. I have to get to Barrie, see. It’s my son’s birthday.”

Now I’d heard the ‘get to Barrie’ bit before, years ago. But now there was a son in the story? and it was his birthday?

I had to give it up. I gave it to him. Three extra dollars.

On Saturday evening, I went out for cigarettes. I also bought a chocolate caramel cake.

Walking back, I saw a quartet of ruffians throw a potted plant into the street. We neared. The guy right in front of me stopped, and I stopped. Neither gave way.

He was young and tall. We were very civil. I guess he said “Move” first. I said, “Why don’t you move?” “I don’t want to move.” “Neither do I.”

We were cordial in our aggression.

I said, “Fine,” and went around him.

He said, “I’m a bit drunk.”

I said, “Me too.”

 

***

 

How did we meet? I know you’re all thinking that. But I want to tell you rather my condition at the time.

I smelled great, like new linen. He took me up, put my head over his, put his arms into mine, inserted his legs into my legs. And we were as close as two things could ever be.

For a few weeks, I watched him from my corner carefully. He knew I was there; he wanted me over him. Finally, he would give in, and we’d hit the town.

How he loved me so! We’d jump out from streetlamps, him screaming, “Bleagh! I’m a bear! Run!” and he would make my plastic claws flicker in the lamplight.

Then everything went bad. I started to smell, inside and out. He’d drink in me, piss in me; finally he vomited in me. But would he take me to the cleaners? No, never to the cleaners. And here’s my point: I couldn’t separate from him! I was completely under his control.

What was wrong with him? I never found out.

Days would pass without a movement.

Finally, all movement stopped.

We merged then; two entities completely connected. Skin and fake fur blended.

 

***

 

Math is Hard

 

To the editor:

Elizabeth Renzetti's sure perplexed today! Gooo, how can it be that men dominate in sport? Why aren't sporty women on TV more often?

Golly, could it be that people are more interested in seeing the outer limits of human potential than spending their time being interested in (or pretending to be interested in) the achievements of a sub-set chosen for partisan reasons?

It may be fun to partition for ideological purposes one subset of a group; but we're not all ideologues all the time, so the achievements of set(x) outweigh the achievements of set(x)/y where y>1.

 

To the editor:

You guys! I know you publish letters just to make fun of their writers, but please stop. Example: publishing Patricia Clarke's letter about political donations. It's cruel to so display her innumeracy! If she thinks that since 80,135 donated to the Conservatives while 129,519 didn't, then "more Canadians know we're not better off with Harper," she must also know that likewise:

71,655 Liberal, 137,999 not

39,218 NDP, 170,436 not

14,500 Greens, 195,194 not

4,146 Bloc, 205,508 not,

which means that even more Canadians know we're not better off with the alternatives.

Shame on you, Globe!

--7-8 July 2014

 

***

 

A Saucerful of Secrets

 

"But ... Jupiter, Saturn, Oberon, Titania, and Miranda are not interstellar, Mr. Floyd."

 

In a dream, I left (during a move) a box at the curb and it was taken. I believed I'd been robbed before realizing it must have been as abandoned curbside trash. Therefore dreams, too, have appearances and realities.

 

"Jane, I mean ... I thought he was an interesting person; turned out he was just another person of interest."

 

The bomp was there when I found it.

 

Nostalgia for the moment of my very first regret.

 

Bullshit town contest winners announced.

 

Motley and maggoty bear costume.

 

Abjection.

 

I should invent some awards to award to myself. Most other industries do.

 

So after it was reported that the Toronto District School Board would be paying $700,000 to fix electronic locks made insecure by their erroneous publication of all their key codes, the cost suddenly dropped to $140,000. Boy, I bet a lot of brothers-in-law of a low of TDSB councillors are mighty pissed! ("There goes the new swimming pool!")

 

Staff Note: Due to the overuse of 'epicentre' as a dramatic intensifier of 'centre', the term has lost its forcefulness. From now on, use 'epi-epicentre'.

 

***

 

Touché!

 

-Oh, so two nights ago, you know what my daughters did?

-Mm?

-They took me to a very nice restaurant, for my Birthday.

-Oh, interesting....

-I paid for the wine, but still.

-That’s okay.

-It was a nice little place. Never been to it before.

-Sounds like fun.

-Oh, it was! Cozy place. I’m tellin’ you, we’re bad for drivin’ these places out of business.

-Really? What are you doing to drive these places out of business?

-Oh, I don’t mean me, I mean us.

-You are a part of us. Right?

-Yeah.

-So what exactly have you been doing? What have you been up to?

-I haven’t done a thing!

-You just confessed to doing something to drive ‘these places’ out of business. I want to know what it was.

-Nothing! I haven’t done a thing! We’ve done things!

-Look. I haven’t done a single blessed thing to drive anyone out of any business. So tell me—since you’re feeling guilty—what have you done? Confess!

-You’re not seeing the Big Picture.

-Big pictures are made of little pictures. What have you done to small businesses?

-I don’t know....

-You don’t know....

-Have mercy. I was wrong.

-Touché!

 

[40]

The Powers signed their peace deal; the Powers allowed us then to return to our city.

Carl and I stumbled through the rubble along with everyone else though everyone else was like a cipher to me, caught in their own desires; for sure I was like a cipher to them too.

We came to our street and I looked up at our apartment building. The entire front had been sheared off by the bombs, revealing dining rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms. Yet there was one apartment’s facade that was intact, on the third floor; I realized then that it was our apartment.

“We have been spared,” I said. Purely by luck, we had been spared.

The stairs took some negotiating and stumbling up to get to the third floor. Dust and dirt everywhere.

There was our door. Like a zombie I pulled my keys out from where I’d always had them, in the same pocket I’d always used. I put the key in the lock with my hand in the same position as ever. I pushed open the door, and we went inside.

Everything was perfectly intact.

The door swung shut behind us, and our entire exterior wall fell into the street.