West Side Sorry

Now you all better dig this and dig it good. No matter who or what is eatin' you, man, you show it and you are dead. You are cuttin' a hole in yourselves for them to stick in a red hot umbrella and open it. Wide. Man, you wanna get past the cops when they start askin' you about tonight? You wanna live in this lousy world? You play it cool.

--- West Side Story


There have always been artists or poets capable of living in violence.

--- Guy Debord

On the suggestion from a friend awhile back I decided to buy a DVD of West Side Story. I have never seen a film begin the way this one does. It opens with an abstract pattern of lines on the screen accompanied by an excellent score of Leonard Bernstien music that moves through many moods and emotions. As the music changes, the screen floods with colour, burnt reds, teal blues, and acid pinks. This goes on for up to five minutes or so until finally, the abstract image begins to fade away until you realize that it was the outlines of the southern tip of manhattan you had been looking at all that time. Then the film begins to zoom in on the city, until it is panning over an aerial view of row house neighbourhoods and urban decay, finally stopping on a tennis court, where kids are milling about. The camera stops over the gang of kids, and comes down to introduce them to the viewer, and the drama begins.

It's what I thought of as I saw the city from a distance, on the west side, as Frannie was preparing our dinner. She had a lovely apartment with a balcony overlooking the beach, and the lights of the city burned bright through the reflection in the glass of Frannie in the kitchen. Her hair in pig tails as she lit the candles on the table set for two.

We drank wine, and ate a lovely Canadian dish of pea soup with Easter ham with carrots. I brought a baguette for the soup, and a Kit-Kat for desert. After dinner we chatted some more and I found myself, not tired, but comfortable. So comfortable in fact that my head got closer and closer to the couch until I was lying on it with my head close to Frannies lap. I wanted that moment to last much longer than it did.

But, gentle reader, as I am learning over the course of my dramatic existence, nothing is forever. So within the hour I found myself blasting Led Zeppelin-III and smoking a joint as I walked back towards the city that seemed so far away. I could have taken a cab, there were no shortage of them tearing up the avenue, back towards the city after dropping off drunks in the suburbs. But I have enjoyed my epic walks lately, and decided to continue on, even though it was looking like a long haul. Within the past seven days, I have walked over every bridge that connects the peninsula of the downtown core with the rest of the mainland. Quite an achievement really. As I slowly approached the city, I thought of it as a whole, and all the stories that were unfolding inside of the night, underneath all that concrete and glass.

Earlier before going to Frannie's I had been with Remington and Leroy at an opening for some artists. I didn't look at anything on the walls, instead I headed straight to the bar where I knew I could find my closest friends. Over a beer I told them of my day. How I had read a story about my performance at a local club earlier in the week in one of the city weeklies, and how I woke up in Katie's bed that morning after she had gone to work. We had been drinking the night before at a bar across the street from her place. I don't recall leaving, or passing out in her bed with no clothes on, so it was a bit of a shocker to wake up at her place. It's not something I had intended on doing. I dragged myself to her couch and rested my cheeks in the fists I made with my hands. How long can I keep this up I thought.

The drinking. The fucking.

I decided to take a shower. It was one of those gorgeous claw foot tubs, with a makeshift shower and a curtain encompassing the tub to keep the water from getting on the floor. I stood in the shower for almost a half hour, losing track of time as I often do with the hot water streaming down my back, and last nights debauchery running through my mind. I decided finally to shut off the water and get to work, but before I could even pull the shower curtain open someone was banging loudly on the door. I didn't know what to do. Standing there naked, I hoped they would just go away. Instead the knocking got louder and more urgent. So I said, "Hello, Katie's not here right now," which thinking about it now was an odd thing to say. As I made myself known to the person at the door I looked at the floor to see that I had flooded the bathroom floor. The unknown visitor confused by my assumption that he was looking for Katie responded with, "No! There's water coming into my apartment. Is there a flood?" I assured him that I had screwed up the shower and that everything was okay. He seemed satisfied enough with that and left. I got dressed as quickly as possible and headed to work. Remington and Leroy thought this was quite funny, but at the same time I think they are a little worried about me.

As the city was finally within reach, after close to an hour of walking through the empty suburban streets I thought if all the buildings were suddenly to vanish, I would be able to see everyone in the city all at once. Standing naked in the openness. The people I love, and the people I hate, they would all be together, unable to hide the secrets of their lives behind a high rise, or a bathroom door. It would just be one open space, filled with people.

As soon as I made it over the huge sprawling bridge, I decided I had enough, so I hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take me home. I leaned my face against the cool glass of the cab window and figured this would be an excellent time to roll credits.