The Long, Long Weekend

The man about town, living in the shadows....

A long weekend, that one extra day makes it hard to jam it all into a few quick notes. Seems like a whole week has went by, so much has happened. My late night walks over the Cambie street bridge is where I want to start. Coming home from parties on the west side, the words Pacific Central reflecting in the water beneath me, straight ahead is Davie Street cutting through the thick crop of high rise condo's. On my left I can see the Granville Street bridge, stretching across False Creek. Twice this weekend I have enjoyed this walk, late, drunk, the odd car blowing past with a gust of dust and breeze, this is my new neighborhood.

I also ventured into the recesses of the east side on more than one occasion this weekend. Hastings street, the war zone. People there are young, but they look old and unhealthy, might be all the crack. Most of them have some kind of limp, they wear dirty sneakers. I got lost looking for Heatly Street and was actually a little spooked doubling back, up and down Hastings Street, I looked very out of place, perhaps it was my Diesel sneakers. So many hookers on each corner, I practiced my refusal as I approached each one, but they said nothing to me and I was almost disappointed by their disinterest. I finally found the place I was looking for and after getting a can of beer I stood at the entrance smoking, watching the freaks role by, one of which was a 7 foot transvestite prostitute that looked like some kind of sex cyborg, he/she had so much make-up on, nice legs though.

On the west coast summer is approaching, the necklines plunge and the shorts get shorter. On Friday I watched a girl in a sundress break into a trot to cross the street before the walk light turned to a solid red hand. With each step her skirt flew half way up her back as she bounced along giving everyone on Granville street a full view of her nude ass. It seemed like a routine, some kind of desperate plea for attention. I wanted to indulge, but couldn't for fear of falling into the same trap as the idiot in the pick up truck across the street, his eyes all over her, waiting for the green light, his cue to slam the gas peddle and get home to his wife.

Two nights of Indie rock, six bands in total, the best of which was Notes from Underground, one night spent at an art opening followed by a good ol house party. Sunday night was hot, the hottest this year, I was at a big dinner hosted in a living room, at least 15 people were seated at the table. It was fun, but a few comments made towards the end of the evening sent me into self doubt, uncertainty, unhappiness, all the usual suspects. I escaped, and spent the rest of the evening on the west end, comforted by a large console television. No residuals here, just something that has changed, who knows what it is. It will certainly take longer than a long weekend to figure it out. Good thing the whole summer is ahead.