On Beauty
This time of the evening is perfect, right before twilight. The river glows, the roof of the market glows, the walls of the building down from me glow, the smokestacks before that glow. You wouldn't think mustard yellow paint and moss encrusted brick could glow, but they do. Neon mustard. Neon brick. Mount Baker is outlined against the sky as a pastel cardboard cutout......
When I first moved to the Rockies, the mountains around town were impossibly fake. They were two dimentional figures, or the earliest manifestation of a blue screen. On shrooms one day, Leslie and I stalked those mountains from every angle, and proved they were fake. No way they could shift position like that. Sure, things look different from different angles, but if Sulpher Mountain is west of Mount Rundle, it should still be west, no matter where in town you stand. How many years ago was that? Half a life time......
Two years ago, I was mourning the loss of Adrien. We didn't say goodbye, he went surfing his last week in Canada, said he would call if he got back early enough before his flight. He called. As he was packing the car, on the way to the airport. Easier to pretend you'll be back, than to admit you're gone forever. Do you want a coffee for the road?.....
The Kid, laying sprawled out on the couch with her head in Adrien's lap, staring up at him adoringly. She didn't care who he was, back then she was obsessed with men. Adrien laughing, looking up at me, shrugging, 'Don't know why she do this, she just came and sit like this!'.....
Sitting in a brown vinyl rocking chair in a florescent lit hospital room, nursing. The Kid, lightly tanned with slight jaundice, formed like the smallest three month old you've ever seen, eyes wide, shocked by that sweet nectar which could be drawn at will, shoulder's pulled back, murping continuously. Like a man who's discovered the oasis is real. Me, memorizing the moment, the perfection of it, I will never forget this......
Sitting it a hospital room, with a dragon on the end of my bed. Technicolour fog surrounding everything, no fear of the dragon, only concern for the little man fairy I cradled lovingly in the palms of my hands.....
It's sunset now. The sky over the Queensborough Bridge is fuscia. The industrial park below the bridge is morphing into a trekkie's dream world.....
Climbing up the arches on the bridge over the Qu'appelle River. Kids, we revel in this freedom, the slim concrete arch, the river a thousand miles below. The slopes of the valley walls form endless nooks and crannies which entice us to escape into them, climb to the top of the valley, the prairies stretched out for miles, a perfect replica of my grandmother's watercolours.....
It's dark now....
There's so much more....
When I first moved to the Rockies, the mountains around town were impossibly fake. They were two dimentional figures, or the earliest manifestation of a blue screen. On shrooms one day, Leslie and I stalked those mountains from every angle, and proved they were fake. No way they could shift position like that. Sure, things look different from different angles, but if Sulpher Mountain is west of Mount Rundle, it should still be west, no matter where in town you stand. How many years ago was that? Half a life time......
Two years ago, I was mourning the loss of Adrien. We didn't say goodbye, he went surfing his last week in Canada, said he would call if he got back early enough before his flight. He called. As he was packing the car, on the way to the airport. Easier to pretend you'll be back, than to admit you're gone forever. Do you want a coffee for the road?.....
The Kid, laying sprawled out on the couch with her head in Adrien's lap, staring up at him adoringly. She didn't care who he was, back then she was obsessed with men. Adrien laughing, looking up at me, shrugging, 'Don't know why she do this, she just came and sit like this!'.....
Sitting in a brown vinyl rocking chair in a florescent lit hospital room, nursing. The Kid, lightly tanned with slight jaundice, formed like the smallest three month old you've ever seen, eyes wide, shocked by that sweet nectar which could be drawn at will, shoulder's pulled back, murping continuously. Like a man who's discovered the oasis is real. Me, memorizing the moment, the perfection of it, I will never forget this......
Sitting it a hospital room, with a dragon on the end of my bed. Technicolour fog surrounding everything, no fear of the dragon, only concern for the little man fairy I cradled lovingly in the palms of my hands.....
It's sunset now. The sky over the Queensborough Bridge is fuscia. The industrial park below the bridge is morphing into a trekkie's dream world.....
Climbing up the arches on the bridge over the Qu'appelle River. Kids, we revel in this freedom, the slim concrete arch, the river a thousand miles below. The slopes of the valley walls form endless nooks and crannies which entice us to escape into them, climb to the top of the valley, the prairies stretched out for miles, a perfect replica of my grandmother's watercolours.....
It's dark now....
There's so much more....
posted by Impulsivecompulsive | 7:23 PM
2 Comments:
Little man fairies, eh?
It was one of those you had to be there sort of thangs, really.
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