why do I call everyone darling now?

What awful things happen in the dark. Victoria and I had a wonderful time, but as soon as we parted the monsters fell. Ticketed for lack of fare to find the busses have been shut down on the Drive. There was a long walk ahead, underneath my feet the pavement stretches forward. It won’t be so bad by the time I reach First, but before I can make it so far a drunk falls into step with me. His long hair would fall into his eyes and he would push it back to look at me out of the side of his face. “You sheem like a nice enough kinda girl. Why doncha come home with me and we’ll see how pretty I can make ya” Unreal conversation. I imagine him talking to many young women on many other nights, but when I tried to imagine what this man must do for a living, I couldn’t think of any realistic possibility. He exists only to be the stranger who begs my steps on this night home. Later he will shrink into the shadows and change, becoming the next odd stranger who picks me to talk to on thier long walk home.

When I came even with Grandview Park, the man had been left far behind and ahead, where I looked, there were lights. Too many lights. Bright ones, white and yellow and flashing. The sidewalk thick as ants with people. The block of Sweet Cherabim was blocked off for filming, but there was no action and too many people. The crowd seemed too large. “The blue people.. Adventure Four? Fantastic Four”, I thought to myself, coming even with set that changed the lino shop into a cashiers and a blank sheet of sidewalk into a subway staircase. Ahead I found the reason for the traffic clog. The police have taken it upon themselves to come down on De Kine, the store that was openly selling marijuana. Timing it with the filmshoot was an act of pure media grabbing. Last I heard, stopping such a shoot adds up to about $1000/minute and every business along the blocked off area is going to claim for lost business. I cringe for the nine to five folk who pay taxes. The chemist was outside. The sweet long haired hippy of a man who gave me the Snow White tea. Sleep, sweetness, sleep and never wake up. He asked my forgiveness again and filled me in on things. I’m glad to know him. Seems this morning a politician knocking on De Kine’s existance was front page news so it was decided that it was time to crack the house down. Pity, really. I read the bitching earlier this afternoon and laughed that a fuss would be made of such a small establishment. There’s no money there. The window sign sloppily painted on by hand in cheap green paint.

I stood talking for half an hour, collecting all the information I could gather before heading homewards again. The police were reticent, but expected to be. There were some idiot baiters showing us for less than we are, but I left as they started getting louder. I’m sure they’ll make wonderfully incriminating footage. “These are the people who want this place to stay open. This shop, selling it’s illegal drugs, was open on Commercial Drive for a good six months before VPD stepped in to right the law.” Oh, yes, what is this city coming to?

Now I’m home withe my Love on-line. He’s drunk and so a lousy typist, but somehow he keeps his wits. Perhaps one day I will get over my wary love of happy drunks, but so far I still feel thier company is a gift. He’s saying a visit soon. Two weeks as a possible count-down. His collection of roses for me is growing. Dried twisting flowers hanging in a row added to one by one by one. I’m going to ask he add one every week. I count our time apart by the moons flood now. Another week bleeding, another month his absence. Today begins three. World, I demand his presence. World, I demand his breath. Bring me the head of my Saint and lay it for me on my cotton pillow plate. Bring on the spear, bring on the closing lines. That sound will shatter the sky and I want it, oh, I want it to fall.