Skip to main content


Showing posts from August, 2014

Half empty at the ship and anchor.

When I sit at a barstool alone, i imagine him quietly sitting next to me, sipping on his beer, leaving to go smoke, coming back and scratching a $2 western he got at the sev.
In the other room, outside smoking, just one calling of his name away.

Cannery Row Chapter 30 Part 2

The party was about to recline and go to sleep when there was a tramp of feet on the stairs. A great voice shouted, "Where's the girls?"

Mack got up almost happily and crossed quickly to the door. And a smile of joy illuminated the faces of Hughie and Jones. “What girls you got in mind?” Mack asked softly.

“Ain’t this a whore house? Cab driver said they was one down here.”

“You made a mistake, Mister.” Mack’s voice was gay.

“Well, what’s them dames in there?”

They joined battle then. They were the crew of a San Pedro tuna boat, good hard happy fight-wise men. With the first rush they burst through to the party. Dora’s girls had each one slipped off a shoe and held it by the toe. As the fight raged by they would clip a man on the head with the spike heel. Dora leaped for the kitchen and came roaring out with a meat grinder. Even Doc was happy. He flailed about with the Chalmers 1916 piston and connecting rod.

It was a good fight. Hazel tripped and got kicked in the face twice b…

You're doing it wrong

Garage doors and power washers Dog walkers and house keepers All the dogs have anxiety And the husbands high blood pressure They call the dead ends cul-de-sacs And the stillness peaceful But it’s unnerving And I want to go home

I used to be a camp counsellor

Sometimes I say that to a crowd of people and it's met with laughter.

'Well, that explains it!'

Usually it's when we're trying to start a fire, or put up a tarp or play a song on the guitar . All three of which I'm not very good at, because, truthfully, I wasn't a very good camp counselor.

I was only a camper for one year, at 14 years old, because my mom was the camp nurse and she got a 'deal'.

Maybe it was my counsellor singing Ani DiFranco songs, staring at the ceiling in my bunk, surrounded by equally entranced young girls that made me want to go back.

Whatever it was, I went back the following year and applied to be a counsellor. But I wasn't your average applicant, as I wore make-up, blow-dried my hair and stole my sisters clothes any chance I got.

Somehow though, I got the job.
They named me Dale after Dale Earnhardt for nearly driving off the road with a car-full of counselors the morning after a staff party.
The summer started off wel…

He's not feeling well.

He's got a broken heart.

Baby it's you.

It was December 10th, 2007. One week after his birthday, but I didn't know that yet.
Georgia and I walked into Broken City for the afternoon jam. We got pints, sat in a booth and watched.

He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. His guitar was yellow and black, and he had a cigarette hanging from his lips. He played Human Fly by The Cramps (here).

My heart fluttered. The room quieted. I knew it right then and there.
I am mad for this man, Georgia. I need to meet this man.

Like a good friend, she walked over and said as much. He came to our table and sat down and we talked for awhile.

He got up and announced it was time for him to go, walking over to the stage. I thought I was going to lose him.

 He put on a red jacket, slung his guitar over his shoulder, and returned to my table.
"Well, are you coming?" he asked.

And so I went.
And I never looked back and I never said goodbye and I never doubted it for a moment. It was him.

He died on January 7th, 2010. A week after tat…