the semenous milky way
The world has a capacity to be so kind... I’d have a hard time believing it if it weren’t reflected, or even written, from time to time in the clouds of the sky.
The evening sun sets and lingers for an almost an hour longer in this town than it does places east and south... and it hangs up there sending out the orange and yellow off of the worn bricks of the house and the weathered wooden patio... and iron chairs with all season cushions can be as uncomfortable as any other...
I don’t think the universe is lying to us tonight, I thought. There might be death and destruction in every other backyard of the world tonight but not here, not here, it’s honest and kind to us tonight. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to mistake the light for the wisdom of the Buddhas but it is true that it carries with it little suffering.
If I weren’t so painfully convinced of the reality of my own death I’d seek these evenings out more, or allow them more of a chance. I too could scream, "I love life, because I am afraid of death!" And, be content with the thought that it is never more than a moment anyway.
Though as it does, and so it goes, the sun sets again and everyone falls into the shadows, and everyone’s a stranger, it’s as if every one I’ve ever known I’ve never met. Well, time to stroll home I guess, where talking to myself will at least feel a bit normal.
And walking home I head straight down the middle of Osbourne, I take the meridian, and the cars whizz by honking and flashing their lights... The world is everyone’s personal playground little wonder it’s not going to last.
Anyway, I take the meridian as the over heating city streets have brought all the freaks out from under the bridge and I don’t know where else... just looking for a breeze to come in off the river.. And, for that I guess can’t blame them...
So, walking up the meridian, I see the lights flicker on and off in the tenements that crowd the river, they’re real life giants made of cement and glass pushing each other around all trying to get a better view... And, I see the lights flicker on and off and think of all the hairy men up there in those rooms fucking their hairless girls, or of the hairless girls fucking their hairy men, you pick. Another cosmic orgy, the sun fucked the moon and begat the earth, so be it.
Meanwhile, underneath the celestial orgy, the toothless men and women on crutches are hobbling up the bridge and crossing the Assiniboine and leaning over the rails staring at the muddy depths.. Wondering, I don’t know what, whether or not there’s a better view...
And, so I’m off the meridian and on the sidewalk for only a minute trying to sneak down Mostyn and a river watcher asks me for a cigarette... and I always give cigarettes when I have them... "bless you," she said, "have a wonderful evening." Though it was well rehearsed I was pleased to hear it.
So from Mostyn it’s not much more than a minute to the door... easy goings... I want to sprint up the stairs to floor three but I’m stopped really early on by a wasted couple dragging each other up the stairs... I can be of no help here I quickly realized and I’m not waiting... So I ran around to the other entrance door, the one that faces out on Young and climbed to the top... By the time I had got there the two were stumbling in on the other end of the hall... Hey I know that girl I thought.
It’s Emanuelle (true, true), a pretty girl, tiny, angular, as tiny girls are, I used to buzz her up to visit her friend who lives a couple of doors down while his buzzer was broken.. Well, actually this buzzing up routine lasted for a couple of weeks, even after his buzzer was fixed, and at the strangest hours, late, sometimes as late as one am... It was cold outside then too, somebody’s got to let her in.
Anyway, I don’t think the two of them communicated much about the buzzer... I saw him in the hallway once and I asked him if he ever got the thing fixed, and he said yes it’s been fixed for a while. So, the last time Emanuelle buzzed me I told her the good news, that was the last time I heard from her. Though she did stop by once and said she’d stop by again with some fresh pressed vegetable juice. I never once waited on the juice, it was unnecessary anyway, I can understand not wanting to be cold.
The evening sun sets and lingers for an almost an hour longer in this town than it does places east and south... and it hangs up there sending out the orange and yellow off of the worn bricks of the house and the weathered wooden patio... and iron chairs with all season cushions can be as uncomfortable as any other...
I don’t think the universe is lying to us tonight, I thought. There might be death and destruction in every other backyard of the world tonight but not here, not here, it’s honest and kind to us tonight. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to mistake the light for the wisdom of the Buddhas but it is true that it carries with it little suffering.
If I weren’t so painfully convinced of the reality of my own death I’d seek these evenings out more, or allow them more of a chance. I too could scream, "I love life, because I am afraid of death!" And, be content with the thought that it is never more than a moment anyway.
Though as it does, and so it goes, the sun sets again and everyone falls into the shadows, and everyone’s a stranger, it’s as if every one I’ve ever known I’ve never met. Well, time to stroll home I guess, where talking to myself will at least feel a bit normal.
And walking home I head straight down the middle of Osbourne, I take the meridian, and the cars whizz by honking and flashing their lights... The world is everyone’s personal playground little wonder it’s not going to last.
Anyway, I take the meridian as the over heating city streets have brought all the freaks out from under the bridge and I don’t know where else... just looking for a breeze to come in off the river.. And, for that I guess can’t blame them...
So, walking up the meridian, I see the lights flicker on and off in the tenements that crowd the river, they’re real life giants made of cement and glass pushing each other around all trying to get a better view... And, I see the lights flicker on and off and think of all the hairy men up there in those rooms fucking their hairless girls, or of the hairless girls fucking their hairy men, you pick. Another cosmic orgy, the sun fucked the moon and begat the earth, so be it.
Meanwhile, underneath the celestial orgy, the toothless men and women on crutches are hobbling up the bridge and crossing the Assiniboine and leaning over the rails staring at the muddy depths.. Wondering, I don’t know what, whether or not there’s a better view...
And, so I’m off the meridian and on the sidewalk for only a minute trying to sneak down Mostyn and a river watcher asks me for a cigarette... and I always give cigarettes when I have them... "bless you," she said, "have a wonderful evening." Though it was well rehearsed I was pleased to hear it.
So from Mostyn it’s not much more than a minute to the door... easy goings... I want to sprint up the stairs to floor three but I’m stopped really early on by a wasted couple dragging each other up the stairs... I can be of no help here I quickly realized and I’m not waiting... So I ran around to the other entrance door, the one that faces out on Young and climbed to the top... By the time I had got there the two were stumbling in on the other end of the hall... Hey I know that girl I thought.
It’s Emanuelle (true, true), a pretty girl, tiny, angular, as tiny girls are, I used to buzz her up to visit her friend who lives a couple of doors down while his buzzer was broken.. Well, actually this buzzing up routine lasted for a couple of weeks, even after his buzzer was fixed, and at the strangest hours, late, sometimes as late as one am... It was cold outside then too, somebody’s got to let her in.
Anyway, I don’t think the two of them communicated much about the buzzer... I saw him in the hallway once and I asked him if he ever got the thing fixed, and he said yes it’s been fixed for a while. So, the last time Emanuelle buzzed me I told her the good news, that was the last time I heard from her. Though she did stop by once and said she’d stop by again with some fresh pressed vegetable juice. I never once waited on the juice, it was unnecessary anyway, I can understand not wanting to be cold.
posted by j/r at 1:39 a.m.
1 Comments:
An act of pure kindness is rare and endangered. To share a cigarette with no recompense, to open a door because its cold. Therein lies the divinity in humanity. Large acts always serve multiple motives, but the small can slip by without undue baggage.
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