Happy Halloween

A Day In The Life of Miss McDonald

Greetings gentle reader! And Happy Halloween. I've been busy trying to keep up with all the late night reveling going on the past few days, and I have many stories to tell. Even one with kissing! But, alas, I don't have time to relate such tales as I am off to dinner shortly, and have guests coming beforehand, so that we may drink wine in our leather pants before heading out to dine, and then, of course, dance.

I did want to take just a quick moment to wish you all a Happy Halloween though. The holiday season is now upon us, and I assure you much entertainment throughout these troubled, happy, sad times.

Until then...

Novel

No one's serious at seventeen.
--On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade
And loud, blinding cafes are the last thing you need
--You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade.
-- Arthur Rimbaud

Well, I had my bag packed. Clothes? Where I was going I wouldn't need clothes. No, just some basic personal belongings. A few pictures that I have left of my family. Some old letters that I have from various x-girlfriends, my favorite being the one where I dumped this girl in grade 12, and she responded with a 2 page letter constantly referring to my cock as, "down there." I packed my prized 78 Playboy, some extra copies of my ID stored in a Harley Davidson biker wallet that I keep in my closet as a backup. I lose my wallet constantly. It's always returned. I packed some special books, and some toiletries to keep me fresh on my travels, pressed it all neatly into my vintage leather suitcase with the broken zipper and the remnants of a peeled off AC/DC sticker. Then I set the half empty bag on the floor by the phone, poured myself a glass of wine, and waited for Leroy to call.

I had everything I needed. I didn't need anything. Not anymore. Because I was so fucking certain that when Leroy called he would be telling me that one of the three lottery tickets I had bought earlier in the day with Leroy and Remington, was a winner, and that I was rich. Which would prompt me to leisurely finish my wine, walk out the door, book myself into a hotel, wait for my cash to come in, and fly out of this place for a little extended R+R.

Leroy called at 10:12pm. By 10:30pm, I had finished the whole bottle of wine, had my bag unpacked and put back into the closet. Then I lay face down in bed for an hour, until I could bring myself to write this, to tell you, that I am going nowhere.

Low for Sale

Upon my arrival into an apartment lit by a toucan lamp, I took refuge on my olive leather couch. Then, with the city glowing through the window behind me, I picked up my guitar and played 3 songs. Not all of them well, but I assure you gentle reader, there were moments that would have taken your breath away. I would give anything, right now, to kiss you.

1) Modern Lovers - Someone I Care About

2) The Stooges - Loose

and finally,

3) This one...

Night.

FUCK YOU

i

I'm gonna deliver to you
a certain loveliness
to hold in your hand
please, keep it warm

you think I might be out there
but really, you are here

ii

I hate call display. really
hate it

iii

and then, headed
Oh! for certain, towards another disaster
and yet another kiss, at seven eleven
through the years

-you think you might
you think you might
you think you might learn it somehow

god i loves you

In and Out

Do you remember that amusing ride called the Sizzler? Well that's what things have been like lately. Weaving in and out of days and nights in a sparkled car with 50's influenced tail lights. Running head on into a tragic situation only to veer off to the side at the last second. So fast I can't keep up with it, and I feel like I am failing all my gentle readers. There's just too much to tell, and no time to share it.

Heavy crushes on rock goddesses with electric bolt earrings and stiletto heels. Dreams of frenching. Frenching in the back of the club, frenching on first avenue. Caressing criss cross nylon covered legs. Eating roast beef dinners, drinking wine in the theatre and watching a 35 foot James Dean and Natalie Wood look longingly into the crowd and wonder what love is. Drinking whiskey between double bills. Hanging out with rock stars. Stealing french horns. Free lunches, free dinners. Piling through art parties at the crack of dawn, fighting in the kitchen, rolling in the grass. Winning. Drinking crown royal, and longing for a family. Burning pictures, eating bagels, and fucking.

Please bare with me in this time of unrest.

Giver!

PostSecret

Not a peep was heard from my family on Thanksgiving. The phone didn't ring, and since the phone company has restricted my line from making long distance calls I couldn't reach out to touch anyone. The dinner hour approached and the house was too quiet. So I decided to go to an environment where I could feel truly thankful, a bar. Not just any bar of course. In times such as these, the proper establishment must be chosen wisely. It must be in a rough part of town, open early, have a hotel or rooming house above it and a cigarette machine close to the washroom. It must serve draft in those shapely little glasses, it should have red carpet with years of gum pressed into it, have an overweight bouncer wearing a black leather vest sitting by the door, preferably be populated by no one under 45, and most importantly, no music should be played.

Dressed down for the occasion I took up residence at a hotel bar within walking distance, old, and not too far from the train station just incase I should get drunk enough to muster the courage to leave town and never come back. Alone I sat drinking on the opening of the holiday season as the year began to drag its knuckles to a certain scheduled death. By the third beer the liquor began to do its job, and I started to have romantic thoughts of sniffing perfumed necks, showing up here or there, calling, buzzing, anything, but realized soon enough, really, I was welcome nowhere. Except in the place I found myself in, where I could sit quietly looking out the window at the train station outside. I was brought out of my meditative trance by an inquiry across the room from an older chap sitting with two other fellows and a woman just on the other side of the room. Why was a nice looking young fellow sitting by himself on Thanksgiving? His lady friend wanted to know, but he was asking. I answered that I had just gotten into town, and was waiting for another train. I didn't want to tell them the truth, that really, I was just bored, and had nowhere else to go. They told me to come over and sit with them. We were the only ones in the bar, and it was suggested that we should have our own party. I said sure, and pulled up a chair. The fellow that did most of the talking was named Teddy, he lived in the hotel upstairs. His girlfriend looked about 10 years younger than him, but had seen better days, so really it was hard to tell how old she was, her name was Catherine. I was never introduced Teddy's other friends, I am not even sure if he knew who they were, maybe he had just met them, like me. They were drunk, and didn't say much.

Teddy was a talker, which was good, the rest of us weren't. He used to drive a bus in New York and entertained us with stories about the routes he would drive in Queens, Manhattan, and the Bronx. How he used to drive the route to Rikers Island Prison, how he drove like a madman and had 11 accidents on his record. He was telling us about a stabbing that took place on his bus one morning when he stopped to look at his watch. It was time for dinner. Teddy told us all that we should have the free dinner together being offered at the mission at the top of the street. I told him, Catherine, and the other silent gents that I had no business eating a free dinner for the needy when there were so many others that would benefit from such a charity. Teddy told me that was nonsense, and that I should come along. I had 2$ in my pocket, and only canned soup at home, and I wanted some company. Surely that was the intention of the god loving volunteers serving turkey up the street.

I was drunk, and astounded at where I found myself on this wet night. How I could go from partying with movie stars one week, to waiting in line for a free turkey dinner on Thanksgiving in the dirtiest part of town the next I cannot tell you dearest reader, but I was there, and I felt justified in taking a place in the lineup amongst the cities lost and downtrodden. The meal wasn't the best, but I have most certainly had worse. Sitting at the end of a long table with Teddy and Catherine, we poured some wine into our plastic water cups from a bottle that Catherine had in her purse. I ate quickly. I told them how I was waiting for a train, that I was going back to my family, and that I hadn't seen them in years. They would be waiting for me when I arrived. That I had to get going or I would miss my train. I shook their hands, thanked them for their hospitality, and walked home.

11:11

Yass yass, it has been some time now, I know. I've been busy corresponding with a burlesque dancer that lives in the UK. She is beautiful. Her night is my day, my day is her night. Even now, I have little to offer you. Nothing feels the same since my illness. I have recovered, but everything is different. Cigarettes have no flavor, no appeal. I drink, but nothing seems to happen. There's no giddy laughter, no dancing at 3am with the radio on. I show up at shows coughing and quiet, the party swirls around me, and I sit silent. I get on stage and go absolutely mad for a half hour straight, put my instrument in its case, and go home to sleep.

I welcome the oppressive nature of the rain. It is constant in these times of short days and round the clock headlights. The streets are louder than usual, with cars running their tires along a thin film of water at high speeds. I find myself yelling to be heard in the morning as the 15 Downtown approaches. The rain drips off my clenched fist as I count house numbers, finding my way to a place I have never been. I want to save the occupants, take them away from this place, sooth their souls, love their hearts, warm their bodies. Make it all go away...