i'm talkin' proverbs. who's talkin' proverbs? the sidewalk edition (of montreal).
secret smiles on the sidewalk, in the cafe, on the bus, you've slid your hooks into me, beautiful, and it does hurt as i spin uncontrollably forward, splish-splashing here and there.
i'm staying in a bright, shiny hotel with a huge crystal chandelier and views of tall banks and insurance companies. how elegant! i'll be happy when my money runs out.
the sidewalks are wet and delightful. did i mention i've actually worn my jeans bare, and holes are forming - this being the first happenstance of this sort since i was a tyke.
the past few nights i've been the star of loungey midnight interviews, as i hurtle toward the center of the city, a beetle railing against a screen window in forlorn summer bars, oh hum, oh hum, refined dissipated excitement lurking in the heavily designed interiors (but always rushing to the center whir!) (finding nothing but a feeling twenty feet above my head.). i sat alone sipping absinthe behind a blurring neon sign, the glossy black table reflected the green liquor and my new beard, as a tall black guy in a suit and wild, wild eyes made his way over and sat down. he told me about himself (a lawyer). i told him about myself (a bum, a prophet). he asked if i'd like some tea (marijuana), i said i was cool, he asked if i'd like some tail (women), i said i was cool. he told me he was very high. i told him he was god's child. i left.
blasting down, i heard some live music moving inside, so i popped in. it was an intimate setting; dug. the stage was about fifteen feet away as i dipped the bread in the lentil soup (required food purchase with stout. being early and hungry, i happily acquiesced.) the band was only rehearsing, but i liked it, and it was a lovely accoutrement to the rain and the soup and the gorgeous girl to my right speaking french.
there's something i like about this city. the women. but more than that there's a feeling in the air that you're safe. everyone is polite and warm. the cab driver was learning spanish, and he had the u.s. electoral college map taped to the back of his visor. you can see it and feel it in the lack of hegemony, and the narratives of design, architecture, music: everywhere. it feels somewhat enlightened. though at the same time it's given me renewed appreciation for america, that old frontier town, that crazed, wild do anything. america has a sense of power and money and suffering and killing i don't feel here. in america, the underground cafes are that much more compelling, the music and books, more radical, radical begets radical reaction, and i do love the american jungle, even if it is against my better judgment(a fuller chronicle of emotion?).
i've heard that incredible amounts of friction can shoot particles into outer-space. i mean, not to get all astro-physicist but the boudoir in my suite would be driving me to fits. thankfully, i've exorcised the demons these past few nights.
tonight, i'm an angel.
verily, verily i say unto you,
except a corn of wheat fall into
the ground and die, it abideth
alone: but if it die, it bringeth
forth much fruit.
john XII.24
who's talkin' proverbs?
i'm staying in a bright, shiny hotel with a huge crystal chandelier and views of tall banks and insurance companies. how elegant! i'll be happy when my money runs out.
the sidewalks are wet and delightful. did i mention i've actually worn my jeans bare, and holes are forming - this being the first happenstance of this sort since i was a tyke.
the past few nights i've been the star of loungey midnight interviews, as i hurtle toward the center of the city, a beetle railing against a screen window in forlorn summer bars, oh hum, oh hum, refined dissipated excitement lurking in the heavily designed interiors (but always rushing to the center whir!) (finding nothing but a feeling twenty feet above my head.). i sat alone sipping absinthe behind a blurring neon sign, the glossy black table reflected the green liquor and my new beard, as a tall black guy in a suit and wild, wild eyes made his way over and sat down. he told me about himself (a lawyer). i told him about myself (a bum, a prophet). he asked if i'd like some tea (marijuana), i said i was cool, he asked if i'd like some tail (women), i said i was cool. he told me he was very high. i told him he was god's child. i left.
blasting down, i heard some live music moving inside, so i popped in. it was an intimate setting; dug. the stage was about fifteen feet away as i dipped the bread in the lentil soup (required food purchase with stout. being early and hungry, i happily acquiesced.) the band was only rehearsing, but i liked it, and it was a lovely accoutrement to the rain and the soup and the gorgeous girl to my right speaking french.
there's something i like about this city. the women. but more than that there's a feeling in the air that you're safe. everyone is polite and warm. the cab driver was learning spanish, and he had the u.s. electoral college map taped to the back of his visor. you can see it and feel it in the lack of hegemony, and the narratives of design, architecture, music: everywhere. it feels somewhat enlightened. though at the same time it's given me renewed appreciation for america, that old frontier town, that crazed, wild do anything. america has a sense of power and money and suffering and killing i don't feel here. in america, the underground cafes are that much more compelling, the music and books, more radical, radical begets radical reaction, and i do love the american jungle, even if it is against my better judgment(a fuller chronicle of emotion?).
i've heard that incredible amounts of friction can shoot particles into outer-space. i mean, not to get all astro-physicist but the boudoir in my suite would be driving me to fits. thankfully, i've exorcised the demons these past few nights.
tonight, i'm an angel.
verily, verily i say unto you,
except a corn of wheat fall into
the ground and die, it abideth
alone: but if it die, it bringeth
forth much fruit.
john XII.24
who's talkin' proverbs?
posted by liam at
2:03 AM
6 Comments:
I heart you.
sounds like an adventure I'd much enjoy being on.
i'm pretty sure this is filthy dirty, god bless. i like your america; she's more interesting in the dark than some might think.
ladyb - and i, you.
chum - yeah, man, it was a nice little romp.
ygwin - my america's cool, though i like yours better, being bigger and more capatious, like.
secret smiles.
bless you.
and you.
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