August 31, 2013
August 30, 2013
Your mind forces you to see what is not there. Reality itself can only be experienced by a God. The rest of us (animals, cameras, Republicans) interpret. We interpret from experience or from what we are taught. Which is why we believe in perspective. And why we once believed the earth was flat but today we don’t. Much or ‘our’ reality is based on trust.
August 29, 2013
I think there has been a change in WordPress. I noticed while browsing the ART section for example that the work is much less controversial, and (I must say) less interesting. I don’t know if this is a policy of wordpress or if there are generally much more conservative/conventional artists blogging.
August 28, 2013
August 27, 2013
August 26, 2013
Couldn’t sleep. Forgot to take meds. Stayed up too late. Watching movies. Drank too much. Leg cramp. And then there was this nightmare. An argument really. A man is trying to find out if he can find out what is really behind everything (lets call it reality for short) by himself. For years he steels himself against all diversions. No emotions (that he can help). No deep commitments. And then he comes to this conclusion. Schizophrenia is natural to human beings. In fact schizophrenia is being human. But there is a caveat. And now your eyes may glaze over. A must reach B. A is equal to B. A is B. We are all schizophrenic. Those with mental health problems are those who cannot reconcile themselves with the other. They can’t see that the other is them. A is B. (Okay, I’ve written it down. Now I can go and get some sleep. Where did I put that bottle.)
August 24, 2013
August 23, 2013
August 22, 2013
I found a manuscript that I had written some time ago. I only have vague memories of it. It was meant to be a fourth book in a trilogy. You can see why I forgot about it. Its called ‘The Invisible Man’. Its a girl meets boy story with a serial killer in between. Quite romantic.
“We Want To Film You.”
That’s Robin talking. A tall thin youth with a mop of blonde hair falling carelessly over his eyes, looking like a Greek god against my pale blue Plymouth Horizon. With his casual youthfulness, the swagger of innocence and bravado, he reminded me of the way all youth looked from a distance. Digging his hand into the pocket of his jeans, ragged and filled with holes, Robin pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. He unraveled it and handed it to me. I adjusted my bright yellow crossing guard jacket and read the paper. Humber College, Television and Film, English Class. After that there was a mishmash of information about the details of an assignment. God, I wasn’t about to read the whole thing.
‘Be nice, Sam.’
That’s Margaret talking. My beautiful young wife. She likes to chat. Describing it as one of the hallmarks of higher civilization. I have to be careful with Margaret’s chatting. She’s dead. As a door knocker. For about a year now. I’d like to mourn but she keeps hanging around. People said that we were the ideal couple. Wonder what they think now. They think I’m certifiable. Especially when they catch me talking to Margaret. Hell, maybe I am.
Margaret laughed. ‘Don’t talk like that, Sam. You’re not made. You just have a few loose screws, that’s all.’
I looked at Robin. “How tall are you?”
Robin blushed then swept his hair out of his eyes.
I raised my eyebrows and smiled. I handed the paper back to Robin.
“Look kid. I don’t want to read through all of this stuff. Could you give me the short version?”
“This is getting us nowhere!” That’s Oshioke Smith talking. A petite Asian girl, braces on her front teeth, long straight black hair running down over her shoulders. Oshioke put one hand on her hip and pointed the other at me. She was a beauty! If I was twenty years…”
What! I did know women before I met you, my dear.
‘But they paled in comparison to your lovely wife!’
Of course, my love.
“I am Oshioke Smith and the giant,” Oshioke gestured to Robin behind her with her thumb, “is my temporary boyfriend, Robin.”
She turned her finger back on me. “Got it!”
I looked for a moment at the finger pointed at me.
“Is that loaded?” I asked.
‘She’s quite a handful!’ Margaret giggled.
Oshioke took a piece of gum previously hidden behind her ear and stuck it in her mouth. “This is the way it is.” Oshioke popped her gum like a punctuation mark every time she finished a sentence. “We’re making a film for an English course in college. Why we aren’t writing an essay for this course is a mystery to all of us. Personally I think our professor is either incompetent or has some demented notion that this will be a wonderfully creative experience. Our film must be about heroism in modern society, especially those unsung heroes who make civilized life possible. There are the police of course. Would you like to deal with drug pushers, psychopathic killers, hopped up juiced derelicts?” Oshioke shook her head. “I think not. What about social workers? Would you like to have to deal with dysfunctional families, illiterate trailer park trash, abused children, paranoid parents? I think not.”
Margaret nudged me in the ribs. ‘Isn’t she awfully clever, dear? Don’t you think that she is awfully clever?’
I adjusted the yellow hat on my head.
“Oh, Sam!” Margaret shook her head. ‘She’s got spunk.’
She’s a pain in the ass!
‘She’s young. You be careful, l Sam Kelly. I don’t want that little girl’s spirit broken. You don’t know how a thoughtless sarcastic remark can deflate a young girl.’
I don’t think this little girl is any porcelain figurine.
“We could have chosen a fireman or a man of the cloth but that’s been so overdone.” Oshioke switched hips and jabbed toward me again, continuing her rant. I kept dodging the jabs, which Robin standing behind his girlfriend enjoying the moment. She continued, “If I see another picture of a fireman carrying a kitten down a ladder, I’m going to cough up a hair ball. And there was no way we were going to do a teacher. I mean that would be so kissing up.” There was a puzzled expression on Oshioke’s face. “Do you have Turrets? You keep moving around. It would make a great angle. Man with mental disability keeps our children safe.”
‘Tell her you’re a retired cop, Sam, the most famous law officer in the west end of the city.’
I will not. It would only encourage her. Last thing I need is two kids putting me on film. I still have friends at the station. If this ever got back there, I’d be the laughing stock of the Force.
I shook my head and smiled at the girl.
“No, I do not have Turrets. I’ve got this tune in my head. Ever had that? I can’t get rid of it. It has a driving beat. The last time this happened I threw my back out. Had to go to a chiropractor.”
‘What did I tell you! You’re messing with her head, Sam.’
Oshioke glared at me. She was not amused. I liked that. A dump truck rumbled up Kipling Avenue kicking up dust. Some stones jumped out of the truck and skipped across the street. Robin stepped in front of Oshioke to block their path. One of them hit his leg.
“Jesus!” Robin grabbed his leg and massaged it.
‘That was so brave, Sam.’ Margaret sighed. ‘Didn’t you think that was brave, Sam?’
They were stones, dear. Not bullets.
I took a pad and pencil out of my back pocket and jotted down the license number of the truck. Oshioke stepped towards me and pressed her finger into my chest.
“Will you be our hero?”
I stepped back and rubbed my chest.
I moaned. That’s going to leave a bruise!
‘Don’t’ be a wimp, Sam!’
I looked at Oshioke. “I’m not a hero.”
‘You’ve got to help these kids, Sam.’
I do not have to help these kids. There are lots of heroes out there they can film. What about… dentists? They risk their fingers every day.
Oshioke jabbed her finger into my chest again forcing me to take another step backwards. “That’s just the point, Mr…”
“Mr. Kelly, we’ll make a hero out of you. That’s what the media does. It makes the news. It’s a challenge, but Robin and I are up to it. Have you ever read Catcher in the Rye?”
I thought for a moment as I rubbed my chest.
“You’re not going to jab me again, are you?”
‘Is this the Sam Kelly I fell in love with? Picking on a little girl?’
Shut up, Margaret. You’re dead. You might try and keep that in mind.
‘I may be dead, Sam Kelly, but at least I’m not insensitive.’
Oshioke looked at her finger and stuffed her hands into the front of her jeans. Robin stood behind her still grinning, enjoying each of his girlfriend’s antics.
I rubbed my chin. “Catcher In The Rye? Nope. Can’t recall any such book. Is it a baseball book?” I turned to Robin and gestured toward grey Horizon parked across the street on Mattice Avenue. “Is that your car? Same as mine.” I pointed to the pale blue car that Robin was leaning against. Robin turned and looked at my car.
“You’re right, Mr. Kelly. They’re the same. I got mine cheap, at a junkyard. My dad helped me to get it going. He loves working on old cars. Bit of a hobby.”
I reached over and patted my car gently on the roof.
“I’ve had Bessie since she was a baby. When you two were still in elementary school. She’s my little girl. That’s what I call her – Bessie. Last year someone broke into Bessie and stole her back seat. Broke her little heart. Police told me that there were a slew of similar break-ins across the city. Apparently Horizons are very popular in South America. I had a hell of a time finding a new back seat. The insurance company didn’t want to pay up. Said she wasn’t worth it. But what can you do when it’s one of the family? Do the cops pull you over a lot?”
Robin nodded. “They keep threatening to take it off the road. I never thought about giving my car a name. Sort of a neat idea.”
Oshioke jabbed Robin in the ribs with her elbow, her jaws working diligently on her gum. She turned back to me.
“Could we get back on track? The point, Mr. Kelly, is that you are responsible for the safety of children. That was Holden Caulfield’s dream. I think that’s grounds for heroism.”
“Who’s Holden Caulfied?” I asked.
“The hero of Catcher in the Rye!” Oshioke was molesting her gum. She was pissed. Behind her Robin shook his head. I looked down at the young woman.
“You keep doing that, young lady, and you’re going to break a crown. I hope your parents have a good dental plan.”
Oshioke glared at me. I could see the steam in her eyes.
‘She idolizes you Sam.’
Idolizes! I’m just happy she isn’t carrying a gun. Look at those eyes!
“I think what Osh is trying to say,” Robin interjected as he patted Oshioke on the head gently, “is that we think there is a story in your job that should be told.”
Oshioke pushed Robin’s hand away. Robin chuckled.
‘They are such a delightful couple, Sam.’
I’m not doing it, Margaret.
‘Oh don’t be such a poop, Sam. It’s just an assignment for school. And it would be such a treat to see them everyday. Reminds me of when I was young and in love.’
I can’t remember that far back.
‘It was before we met.’
I checked my watch. The kids from the school would be showing up soon. I looked around.
“Where’s you crew? How can you make a film without a crew?”
“We’re the crew.” Robin swept his hair out of his eyes. “Our cameras are in the car.”
I thought for a minute. “How long is this going to take?”
“A few days. We’ll come by each morning and afternoon and shoot a few feet.”
Robin took a package of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to me. I considered it a bribe. I took one of the cigarettes and stuffed it behind my ear.
“I’m trying to quit,” I explained. I checked my watch again. “The kids will be out of school soon.”
Oshioke took a cigarette from Robin’s pack. She stuck her gum behind her ear again and stuck the cigarette between her teeth. Robin lit up her cigarette.
“How long have you two been a couple?” I asked.
‘Don’t play with them, Sam Kelly!’
Oshioke smirked as she glanced back at Robin. “Too long! But we’re trying to quit. Do you think we could interview the kids?””
I looked passed the couple and spotted the children marching down the street towards us.
“I can’t give you permission to interview the kids. Parents get upset about stuff like that. You might want to ask at the school. Principal Genova is a pretty good guy.”
‘I knew you’d say yes.’ Margaret gushed with enthusiasm.
Then why have you been harassing me?
‘Because it’s fun.’
Oshioke looked over her shoulder at Robin. “Why didn’t you think of that?”
Robin shrugged. “I can’t…”
“Have you made any movies previous to this epic?” I asked.
‘Quit giving them the third degree, Sam. You’re no longer a cop.’
“I’ve been working on an idea about the police and a serial killer.” Robin blushed. “Still working on the script. I’ve gotten sort of stuck.”
Oshioke let out a cloud of smoke. “Stuck! He doesn’t know how to begin. What the hell does he know about serial killers? Why not make a movie about Godzilla in Etobicoke? Tell me, Mr. Kelly, have you ever heard of a serial killer in Etobicoke? No. Do something that is believable, I tell him. Like unwanted pregnancies. Or gangs in school. I told him to work small. But does he listen to me? No. As you can see, Mr. Kelly, we are completely incompatible.”
I looked at Robin. He shrugged good naturedly.
‘How can you resist them, Sam? They are an absolutely adorable couple.’
I know I’m going to live to regret this.
“Well, I guess it’s alright to film.” The voices of the children had reached us. “It’s a free country. But don’t tell anyone that I said it was all right. I’ve got to get to work now.”
I stepped across the street and stood at the curb of Kipling. A black Jaguar came speeding down Kipling Avenue. Robin ran across the street to his car on the other side. The Jaguar’s horn cried out as it sped passed. I made a mental note of the car. Cops are always making mental notes. One of the side effects of forty years of police work.
August 21, 2013
HOMICIDE May 19, 1980
Suddenly, the sun was gone, the blue sky disappearing behind a riptide of boiling gray clouds. Heat lightning danced in jagged bolts overhead. Trees swayed and the ground shook. The daylight turned to darkness. Mount St. Helens had blown her lid.
Jess Baker of Battle Ground: “The birds just went to sleep.”
Bob Harju of Vancouver, Clark County: “God, it was quiet out there.”
Bob Brotmiller looking up at the boiling gray clouds churning out of Mount St. Helens: “It was like an atomic explosion. But there was no sound. This was the face of God.”
Kathy Anderson who was directing a U.S. Forest Service replanting crew on the side of the mountain just four miles below the summit, described an awesome scene of flashing lightning bolts, a boiling cauldron of volcanic ash billowing out of the crater: “I felt as if my consciousness had been turned inside out and I was condemned to look inwards for the rest of my existence.”
Her colleague John Morris: “I kept thinking, this is it, this is the end of everything.”