filmme

*blinks*

I had a really weird night. It's a loooooong story, but a good one:

The city of Vancouver never fails to deliver little slices of wisdom or wonder at the times I need it the most. I love this town.

I was wearing the kit: a tight hoodie, jeans and a bright yellow & blue lumberjack toque with tassels. Brilliant shit. I sulked up Granville Street in the mood for a coffee and a smoke. For those of you that have been reading my journal for the last little while know that I am tight on cash, and let me clarify: coffee and smokes are well outside my financial situation... but tonight I just fucking had to have them. I'm sure you all know what that's like.

There's a particular coffee shop that is taboo; a place that for the last little while has been off-limits. Not for any anti-corporate, non-fair trade reasons, but because my ex-manager works there. I had no problems with her personally, it's just that she was caught stealing copious amounts of money from the cash box at my work and after almost pinning it on the rest of the staff, was asked nicely to leave. (she is currently suing the store for defamation after that little tidbit was leaked to the customers) Needless to say, I haven't exactly been itching to look her up and bury the hatchet.

Anyways, the mood I was in didn't exactly permit me the mindset to follow through with the self-imposed ban. Plain and simple, I forgot. I walked into the store and stood face to face with her, frumpy tits and all. She smiled but I just couldn't look her in the eye or the tits. I muttered pleasantries and after a few uncomforatble moments at the register, I haranged a free coffee and a smoke... go figure. This bitch pointed the finger at me when the heat was on and now she was offering me peace in the form of a hazelnut blend and a duMaurier Light King Size. As she came out, she plopped a blank metal coin down on the table, like a washer without a hole. Someone had put that in her tip jar and she felt I would like that sort of thing. I do have a lust for random objects... I guess she remembered. "Maybe I'll use it scratch my lotto tickets." I said, half-graciously accepting the thing.

Whatever... useless conversation about the unusual thickness of the fog ensued and I left there whacked on caffiene and nicotine, my two best friends.

I walked up the street to the Law Courts, easily the best place to hang out in the downtown core when you just can't stand the noise or the lights. I stared out over the city from an overhead walkway and decided that if I had the nerve or the inclination (I'm not sure which) that it would be where I could commit suicide: perfect view, a significant drop so as not to simply injure myself and I'd really fuck up traffic for a few hours (a prerequisite for suicides). I stared at a giant neon clock that was telling the wrong time and I luaghed. You'd think they'd keep an eyesore like that in working order.

I left there buzzing. I don't know what it was but my mind just started to sing:

/Springtime, the only pretty ring time/
/birds sing, hey-ding/
/a-ding-a-ding, sweet love/
/her love/
/the Spring!/

(Strange considering we're heading full steam into monsoon season in Van City... )

I came to stand in front of a man-made waterfall that runs over 9 square skylights lit from underneath. The fucker looks like a giant glowing televsion wall on the floor. I kept thinking "I need a pen and some paper." Like I said... my mind was going mad. I started talking to myself as I was walking. Some poor bastard was sitting on a bench near me, smoking a joint. The guy was just trying to relax and suddenly 6' 3'' 200lbs of jabbering nonsense was coming at him. I have never seen a man who is just tying to stay calm fail so miserably at looking cool and collected.

Pure terror.... so clear.

I walked to street level and I couldn't stand it. Too much pre-defined action was afoot (It was Friday) So I went below street level. There's a defunct skating rink by the art gallery with the most perfect glass dome one end. Killer acoustics. I stood there perorming beat poetry to a captive audience of a couple of homeless people who had curled up in the only two doorways in Vancouver without automatic water sprinklers designed to spray the riffraff out onto the street.

/Maybe this coin
this washer without a hole
is for scratching lotto tickets
I have always wanted a lotto scratching device
that thing I would dig for other than lucky pennies/

I danced away from the confused stares and mutterings about peace and quiet.

I found a pad of paper on the art gallery steps. Unbelievable. All I had with me at the beginning of the night was a dogeared copy of "If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B-Movie Actor", the brilliant Bruce Campbell's revealing autobiography and now I was one step closer to completing this trip and jotting it down in some fashion.

I was singing out loud again:

/I never thought my life could be
anything but catastrophe.../

A samurai was strumming his sword beautifully. I gave him four bits.

still singing:

/but suddenly I begin to see,
a bit of good luck for me!/

A PEN! A FUCKING PEN! "It's all I need!", I said out loud, prompting some lazy Japanese ESL students to laugh at me.

I was walking by a bus stop and a cracked pen was laying on the ground. Some stuck up UBC student had probably left it there thinking "I can't use this! It's broken." How little people realize the power of people's garbage... I sat down scribbling, singing

/Ive got a golden ticket!
I've got a golden chance to make my way!/

But I coudn't think of anything to write. It wasn't over yet. I need bookends, people. A beginning and end to let me know I have experienced something. They all say it's the journey and not the destination, but folks, that shit ain't true. It's thinking back on the journey once you've made it. That's when you figure out what you've learned, what you like and what you want to do. The journey is important but it's perspective that defines us.

I had had it with this night, I kept telling myself. I had walked a long way, been singing out loud and causing poor helpless people to scatter in all directions. I thought, "I might as well buy a lottery ticket and walk away with the ten grand they keep telling me I might be lucky enough to win so long as I match three (3) prize amounts." I had a loonie left over from the days debauchery. I guess I was hoping I would get bus fare somewhere else...

So I did buy that ticket.

And I won 2 bucks.

So I took the bus home.

*blinks*


Ask the universe and ye shall receive it, my friends.