26.2.07

Postcard to Mother.

Nothing much new to report mom.
The sky is still blue mom.
The sun is still yellow mom.
I still haven’t found my watch mom.
So I don’t know what time it is mom.
It is late mom.
It is dark mom.
It is cold here mom.
But not as cold as before mom.
Sometimes at night we open our windows mom.
We open our windows and sing mom.
We open our windows and sing down to the streets below mom.
Black mirror mom.
But I don’t know the words mom.
I forgot the words mom.
I eat bread and butter all day mom.
My time has come mom.
Time for dinner mom.
Time for bread and butter mom.
Time for Herculean feats of strength mom.
Time to turn the car around and go home mom.
Remember that time mom?
Walking in the dark mom.
It was cold mom.
Words have no meaning mom.
Sounds mom.
Sounds like home mom.
Scoop. Ball. Frisbee. Black. T-Shirt. Knee. Cap. Shoe. Lace. Curtains. Tiny. Conspicuous. Crossword. Cancer. Walk. Tear. Wind. Mind. Read. Situate. Relevate. Consternation. Castration. Candy. Anuminious. Mythstory. Crass. Cornucopia. Cacophony. Mom. Tan. Hide. Seek. Sundae. Torn. Penny. Pen. Pencil. Gum. Shower. Drawer. Picture.
Chart.
A course in fine dining mom.
Rock n’ roll history was made today mom.
Rhythm and blues history was made today mom.
By a mom mom.
By a man mom.
By three o’clock mom.
Don’t ask mom.
Don’t tell mom.
Consternation mom.
• •
Everyone is missing out on what goes on outside these walls.
• •
Walking. Late. Metro stopped. Police in tunnel with flashlights. Looking for Osama bin Laden. He wasn’t found. Lost. Following small signs. Ambiguous. Stopped by a woman in a mall. Stopped by a woman in a mall in furs on her way to the opera. On her way from the theatre. On her way to some bourgeois function. Stopped. “Excuse me? Do you speak French or English sir?” “Um, English.” “Sir, I have an incredible tale that you might not believe, sir.

“I was born on a lifeboat in the Mediterranean Sea as my mother and father fled Franco’s fascist Spain. My mother was an opera star. My father the curator of the Museo de la cuchillería moderna. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, sir. It was a Wednesday. Just before midnight. Sir. There was no moon. There was only dark and waves sir. Our lifeboat reached the coast of Nova Scotia in the morning. We took a train to Montreal, sir. My mother sold cigars to plutocrats during the day and sang opera at night. My father got one of Massey’s first Canada Council grants and opened a brothel. They both died the same night, sir. In their sleep sir. Rich. Sir.

“My incredible tale, sir. Is incredible. But I find myself between jobs. Sir. I would appreciate any small change you can spare. Sir. I am trying to look conspicuous. Sir. Do not laugh sir.”

Jangling through $7.45 in pockets of pants that don’t fit right. Too short. Too wide. Give 65¢. Tax write off. “Thank you sir.”

Lore.
• •
The nights become tiny when you don’t sleep in them. Tiny and long. And time stops. And drags. And rattles. And winds itself back around to morning, every morning, because we have forgotten how or lost the tool. Lost the key. Locked out. Outside. In the cold. I am wearing my long underwear mom. I am warm mom. It is everyone else who is cold. I can tell by their eyes. Their eyes are frozen shut. Their mouths are frozen shut. Their Mitch Albom signed copies of Tuesdays with Morrie are frozen shut. My assets are frozen. I am bankrupt. I am depraved. I am deprived. I am singing triumphantastically from clock towers to let everyone know what time it is. I tell time with string and a whistle. Three blows means four. And so on. And so on.
• •
Tiny men have conspired to bring down the president of the Moores, the Suit People, for their big and tall section and related promotional material.
• •
Did you watch the Oscars mom?
Did you pre-order the new Arcade Fire mom?
Did you find the time mom?
This just in.
Mom.

Photos by Morgan Murray. See them for real on Flickr.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey bub! Why no love 4 Nicklrback? Luv ya. Uncle Tim.

jillian said...

All you're missing is a picture of that incredible tale woman. That was one unforgettable hat. Camp out at Place Ville Marie, you're bound to catch her on her way to the Opera again. Maybe you could be more generous with your pocket change this time. Opera tickets do not grow on trees!

Glenford said...

Caroline Area Man:

1. define the pink things from the palais de congres.

2. http://www.youtube.com/p.swf?video_id=soRVHY192DI&eurl=http%3A//www.alluc.de/alluc/showmovie.php%3Fuid%3D34225%26url%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.youtube.com%252Fv%252FsoRVHY192DI&iurl=http%3A//sjc-static10.sjc.youtube.com/vi/soRVHY192DI/2.jpg&t=OEgsToPDskLSogimBrVCA8PBuwzEGnwN

3. Go Jesus

That is all,
Glenford