24 January 2010

Dope City Shithouse Luck Blues


I got out with my dog just as the clouds were beginning to bundle up the sun and take it away like a trunk full of empties. We had the park to ourselves until a young family arrived with their old dog and a new puppy. The old dog was cranky, my dog rewarded its seniority with compassion. The puppy was glad to be free.

I had never seen the family before. Neighbourhoods are weird that way. We all scurry about like meth house rats in our Japanese cars, only ever getting to know one another if we crash into one another or our dogs have a play together in the park.

The family had no mother. She was probably away working at the mall. The father made sure the Hammer was not going to cause any trouble for his two kids or his dogs and then took off in his Subaru with a beep-beep of his horn.

The boy of the family stood there growing before my eyes like dope on a mid-summer day. He was an awkward fucker and it looked like he would stay that way the rest of his life - a Steepleton farm boy without a farm to kick dirt around in.

The girl of the family was a sturdier sort. Though only just old enough to have begun growing what will soon be the missile tits Steepleton women are famous for, she had the self confidence required to be wearing a big peace symbol around her neck. I admired the young lady. I admire anyone in favour of Peace, Love and Understanding in this Voo Doo Age of Video Violence.

Sonja and I then headed out with our dog. I cannot tell you where we went because it was in the very heart of the city and we had that rarest of city experiences: many acres of space to ourselves. It was just us, the smallest of families. To stay there we would be homeless; to visit was to be free.

"Remember when we used to have space like this to ourselves all the time?" asked Sonja with her faraway eyes.

I did. "That was before the fucking government started letting every village idiot in the world move to this country and fill it up like a god damn shithouse."

"I can't wait until we move to our country home and get out of this Olympic outhouse," Sonja added.

Dope City is a trap. Even if we have to chew off a leg, one day we will be free of it, free of all you motherfuckers, unless you show up on our porch with some beer.

5 comments:

Jon said...

Beer, would you sponsor me for immigration? I mean what with the gummint letting in every village idiot in the world and all? My village can elect a new idiot. If they won't let me into Western Canada, and they won't, then I'm makin' my stand in Northern California, one place I'm sure will take me.

I'm living in town too, or close to town anyway. I tried that hiding out in the woods shit for many years. It got old too.

Thank God no one took us seriously when we put in our bid for the summer Olympics. If we could get rid of the conventions and build up the waterfront the whole bay area would still be a pretty good place to live. More longshoremen and teamsters, fewer yuppies. I'd say we could use more loggers and fewer wineries up here, but you need trees to have loggers.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

I heard today that in 2008 the number of people living in the world's cities surpassed the number of people living in the countryside for the first time. I have not fact-checked that but, if true, the founding philosophy of this Free Press is to head in the opposite direction of the doped up herd. The history of humanity, it turns out, parallels that of the Beverly Hillbillies.

RossK said...

Beer!

A million, billion apologies.

We got to English Bay late....Bigger E went to frolick in the Westend with the Germans...littler e. got cold when it started raining and, well, we never got to Q&E...It's 3pm now, and I'll probably head up for slanty-light super banging on my own (just because I haven't been able to wail yet), but that is not really anything worth listenin' too....

Looks like we owe you all a trip across the River....

.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

The three of us were hoping we might catch you yesterday, that was our fun day for the weekend. Today was chore day. So it all worked out for the best.

We will keep an eye out for a chance to catch you sing your Canadian Gold Medal Hawaiian Blues soon.

RossK said...

OK--

Whew. I feel better now....But, just so you know, you did miss 'The Day John Henry Died'on the back end of the day/night doubleheader

_____

It's actually kind of fun to play alone once in awhile in lashing wind and rain - sorta makes you feel like an aspiring gonzo buskalerro....

(or some such thing)