Tuesday, 26th, 2003: Montreal to St. Jerome
i woke up this morning after having a hard night’s sleep
restless sleeping partner
strange snoring
beautiful face: like a mouse
(i find so many bearish men looking like mice…)
great for cuddling
not for sleeping
i my dream
he came to me and woke me up in the early dawn
and said
“i’m sorry… but your van is gone…”
i woke
and was slightly worried:
There was Nothing to fear and Nothing to doubt
he gave me directions to where i was going and handed me a few folded
bills
“i have much money i don’t use, i feel good giving it to the last free
person on the earth”
(bad translation or just dominic being blown out of purportion again)
“for gas…”
‘mmm, thanks’
and a hug
and he DROVE ahead of me to the entrance to the tunnel
and off i was on my way to Alain’s…
similarily
when i arrived in St Jerome
i called Alain and he drove to a near-by service station to drive me to
his house
(a preferance when unfamiliar cities team up with language barriers)
He has a glossy blood red PT Cruiser…
(not to mention two Opan GTs…)
Now… Alain is mid forties
smokes like a chimeny
big fingers
big full beard (longer than mine)
big head, shaved
big eyes
big bushy eyebrows
.. and a nice belly
he’s really sweet
but looks more imposing today
in dark clothes
than when i first met him in Montreal a few days ago
dressed in khakis and a white shirt
(cigarettes in each breast pocket)
he bought this big house thirteen years ago
and has been running it as a … half-way-house for invalids?
for more than ten years.
that is to say
there are nine rooms
and seven “mentally ill” people living there.
i arrive and break out my kombucha
and start straining and bottling
making it quick, as the culture doesn’t like tobacco smoke
while Alain finishes preparing the lunch supper
of cold cuts and macaronni salad
and places, next to each, seven cigarettes (from large plastic bag)
and little cup containing … Pills.
i eat as well (warmed up japanese from last night’s meal with Daniel)
and we retire to His room
which features a very large television
and a very small one just above it
(black and white, the little one, showing what’s going on in the room
next door)
gotta keep an eye on things…
now, usually television and cigarettes get on my nerves very quickly
but when Alain and i met in the Cafe Presse a few nights back
we really didn’t nead to speak
just looking at eachother made us laugh and smile broadly
as it was similar here
clouds of smoke
and light chatter
but both of us looking at eachother
not speaking much
but smiling big
he in his big throne
me on the couch
his two dogs came in
little Pugs
Mod-An
and Eva-… eva something
monster grunting pig-dogs
fun.
we went out to sit in the grass by a rusty old stove
he pulled out a joint, which we smoke a little of
which got me talking about herbs and doing yoga
— it started to rain
ahhh, a man who likes sitting on the grass…
but even the other man i hung out with in Monteral also liked hanging
out on the grass
let all be aware: i love sitting on the grass
head stands and summer saults…
we went back inside and i noticed all the clocks in the kitchen (and
there were many)
were all different times
so i started trying to figure out how to adjust them all
— he laughed at me
and i set one to another
and realized now they were both the same
but the wrong time
he pointed to the top-most clock
we set them all to that clock
then he said
“that’s not the real time”
‘what?’
“well, i keep them all about 15 minutes fast in the house… they think
of their appointments only when they see that time on the clock… so
if i set it early, they get there on time instead of making the doctors
wait… it also puts them to bed earlier… i keep the real time in
here…”
we walked back into the TV room and he showed me a clock
but it was differnt thank his wrist watch…
i couldn’t sit in front of the TV
and he asked me about yoga
so i started doing some for him
and for myself
and the tinge of “high” and all that had been happening
i started getting very bright
i turned off the TV
and Alain just watched me
i mentioned Qi-gung
and started doing that
my hands became aflame with blue
white pouring through my flesh
my thigh hurt so much
Phewwwwww
out
and gone
and down
i left my body
went somewhere else…
Everywhere else
rolled back into relationships
thinking about…
— i can’t remember
but it connected with the difficulty of loving
and the missing of loving
the rift between robert and i… eli and i… my father and i… trevis
and i…
no love to brige over that troubled water
and i came back to myself
open eyed
standing in front of Alain
thinking: >>this is the nature of illness and death… back here
again… at a place where love can’t reach<<
we started rolling joints
or rather
i did
and it was only one
coz he had two pre-rolled already
now i don't smoke much
so i put a little tiny bit of hash in (carried from glastonbury)
and a bit of marijuana leaf (from amsterdam)
and some lobelia, catnip, damiana, osha and nutmeg
possibly other things…
we smoke all three
and struggle through figuring out how to make his television order a
movie
we decide to see "The Hours"
(rather, i do… and i don't remember what people had told me about
it… but that it was well made)
and the rain became fierce and the image digitalized
and we laughed
and got up and made tea…
dinner time
more cigarets layed on the table with little ramikins of pills
and he usually gives them a cup of coffee for dinner
i couldn't let him do that
(me being me)
and asked him to offer all of them a choice of coffee or tea
they all took tea!
i made a sleeply blend
and they all retired rather early and slept well
but he assured me
it didn't matter if they drank tea or coffee
not after the pills they took…
after this little well-timed interruption
the signal came back on the TV
— we hadn't missed much.
the Movie was very dramatic
child screaming and flailing as mom drove away to kill her self
great immage of her taking the pills and passing out on the bed
and the ocean rushing in from under it
filling the room
and sweeping her under
the movie slightly terrified me
and gave me the understanding of this:
(perhaps)
the pain of Women
in surpressed rolls
throughout time
gets carried along to their
children
gay sons
are affected by this uniquely
because they are the torturer and the victim
they are the cared for and the forgotten
we all know of the sins of the father
but the quiet pain of the mother
so well (well, not so well) hidden
women wanting to kill themselves
wanting to love the other women
wanting to run away from it all
wanting to love
loving… but being in so much pain
AIDS?
people living for eachother
people useing their lives as leverage to control other lives
people forcing themselves into a shape they think they should be
the weight of years and memories
and
opting out.
lightning filled the sky outside
and we made our way to bed
and it was so nice to fall asleep next to someone
cuddling up
with only the feeling of love and understanding
no pressure from other directions…
we rested well
but for the times Alain woke to smoke…
Today: September 3rd.
i'm sitting in Video Schmideo in Baldwin.
i walked into the store and there was this kid standing at the desk
in camo dungarees
and dreadlocks down to his butt
What?
eat a piece of pizza and get on the internet
answer email and messages on bearwww
notice all the men walking in:
Hunters… and X-Bikers.
hmmm
the mom-and-pop who own this place
come in
and the dread-kidd leaves
the pop has a beard down to his belly
tattoo's all over his arms
and a ponytail pulled back
why can't i find men like this?
well, i could.. if i were willing to pay that price
i keep thinking of seducing him
and the other people that walk through the door
their small beards/ big beards
tattoos from the army
open button-down shirts
i re-focus on my typing.
this morning i woke early plagued by the thought i'd done a terrible
injustice to Robert
that is
that i was given this powerful, yet fragile, man
and i broke him
he loved me
and my heart felt loved
but my mind was a monster
and with critiques and fears and confusions
he crumbled under me
and it's been YEARS
he's been silent all these years
not willing to tell me how terrified and broken he was by me
and me just pouring more at him
more love
more confusion
more fear
more critiques
which, this year, turned to anger
becasue of his silence:
i lost respect for him
he saying all this loving was just a waste of time
and so it was…
now he responded by saying he never wants to speak to me again
which such hateful phrases
it was always there
a voice says
just get over your dad you pathetic fuck
but then my heart hurts…
and trevis…
so i wrote a letter to Eric in my journal
asking him to teach me …
i woke too early
and couldn't go back to sleep.
i read "the snow goose"
i walked around the house
did some yoga
listened to the cd i made at Alain's
melted down the chocolate i got in SF that was less than mediocer
added spices and carob
and the rest of the hash
some ghee and some maple…
fudge?
i made plans with jim boardmen
i went out to check the pressure in the truck
tire almost empty
i filled it up and drove into town…
yesterday was nicer
i woke after one
(after being woken at eight to talk with leo through yawns for x
minutes before passing out again)
and spent most of the day reading and laying naked in the sun
but there is hardly any sun today
mostly gray
trees blowing in the breeze
i'll go for a walk when i get off this box..
and, Louis, write me back and tell me what you think of all these crazy
thoughts.
i don't know my future.
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