moon river

there's a smell of urine - mixed with exhaust fumes
it was dad's favourite song

dead ahead, wafting through the chilly air
in downtown Toronto in November 1985, reaching for my Minolta
sensing magic but getting tragic instead
dime a dozen


(play the music clip bottom whilst reading)

 

wow

shit, this guy is shivering, soaked in the freezing rain
desperately blowing what's left of his remaining warm expiration date
into a rusty old harmonica - sounding a lost and lonely SOS

in the form of a broken melody
through his crusty
reeds
 
 

m o o n   r i v e r

drifting into his chosen disturbia
the brain is rusty and 
i'm not sure if i'll
 ever get up

knees and feet are totally shot
but i'm lucid - translucent

it's a difficult translation in a torn ticket
that promises no return and no quarter
lost hopes and dreams that didn't make it
past a bittersweet remembrance
on the water long ago

when life was better - when love flourished
when family actually "mattered"

having grown up in northern ontario, working the railroad
dodging a WW2 draft after picking up loose coal on the tracks in Kapuskasing
during the great depression - moving to Timmins later on
working the tracks for CPR in the 50 below - winter wind

long before wireless/digital and the internet 
when dreaming was watching Grace Kelly on TV in black and white

and then going to the bar after/late to find one
that looked like her - pick and choose 
there - the lonely one at the end of the bar
perfect - missing daddy

dime a dozen
yep - believe it or not
i actually fucked a girl 
that looked just like her - yeah Grace

ok, i had my moment
my fifteen minutes 
of fame

"a union job that ended abruptly
after sucker punching my foreman 
in the face


blood


but that was so long ago 
i really don't remember much
it was late and we were really drunk
at the time"

 

broken, moving on out of necessity

"so yeah, the drink infestation early on 
an absent abscess inbred inheritance
getting married too early, having a son - who i never see anymore
because he's far away now
a distant memory
hates me


gone forever


my childhood is an edited/censored
cheery chapter in deranged derailment
tucked away in a photo-album
somewhere


 you see - ah ok

not my story, but his
dad beating mom
fuckin' bitch

all liquored up and on yet another rampage 
he smacked her around at home a lot
way up there in Moosonee as kids
the disease passed on to me
and my younger sister
marrying a man-child
who smacked her
around
too


it comes with the territory
you just adapt


she wants the trailer
whatever

take the fucking trailer


i'm separating from the first wife
finding another - at the Empire Hotel in Timmins  
in January 1974 at 1am - her shirt off
dancing on a table - cheering her on
those amazing 'tits' - wow
both inebriated and participating 
in a turn of events that transformed us
into a day-glow abortion


with yet more collateral damage"








 

"leaving the second wife after having 3 more kids
all girls - all having forgotten who their father was/is
finding me in this reincarnation, they call their abusive husbands now

i drifted south - into the city
alone
needing to get out 
so much bullshit

something around "CNR is hiring there"  
but didn't pan out - just a false rumour
ok, maybe (just maybe) there was an interview 
where i showed up ...


shit-faced

 
finding some sense of peace
on these heated urban transit grates 

there's food around 
it's amazing how many people 
throw half-eaten BK "whoppers"
into the trash 



living on the streets in Toronto since - 10 years pass
wondering what went wrong - why this - why me"

?

 

the loose change pays for a big can 

of max ice at the beer store

lost but NOT forgotten
i'm still playing a family favourite here

in what's left
of this

legacy



m o o n   r i v e r




it's all in a languid lullaby to help you sleep
and there's even a

happy huckleberry ending 


sweet dreams my friend 

sounding silence

there's a silence

it's almost anechoic, atmospheric ...
creeping, crawling back into the crevices 
in a delicate unexpected exposure 

which unfolds naturally

it's a silence where one can hear the blood 
rushing through one's head
in that familiar din of chaos and disrepair
in our dissolving
antarctica

late in the game

it's beyond that experience 
of being up north
at midnight in the late summer months
the place where I was born
and lived - only years later

beyond words actually

ok, it's kind of like a thunderstorm moving in 
layering this musty sleeping bag above ground

falling asleep - cool air - gentle waves out there
on the french river in northern ontario
remembering the kodak momento

quiet 
for now 

sitting on the bow of a simple sermon earlier

staring into the unknown
listening

sounding silence

it's a tense sense of peace and tranquility that defies definition

it's a release from the cage
from all the tragedies and injustices 
that persist in resistance

our spaceship "earth"
is in a state of disrepair
who can save us

?

and so here we are

away from abuse

away from a blood thirst
greedy employers who want more

than they deserve
and getting it

far from the pain and suffering

away from everything

that hurts 

flashbacks are flashes of light 
refurbishing a cerebral landscape from a rolling rocker
drifting - a soft sleep that puts one's mind at ease
 dreaming

it's a frosty lens - carefully crafted
to a rumbling subsonic mutilation
rain clatter on a tenuous tent
drifting 

feeling weightless
fumbling in a free-fall, hearing voices
in the vertigo

mommy and daddy

living the Canadian dream

mom getting pregnant early
subconsciously thinking - not much time
she's in haste management - he's in waste management
 

ok, dad's in a perpetual loop - procrastination masturbation
 not ready to engage on any level

that requires any real presence
and yet - despite the pause 
all part of his conditioning

all the appropriate appliances are in place  
a fridge full of cold beer
a late model car in the driveway
and a new black and white
television 

anticipating technicolour 
on the small screen

a job that pays
and three squares a day
lovingly prepared by someone
who is supposed to mean something

dreaming of a new life

free from restrictions

free from the empty promises

of what can never be
calibrated correctly

it's going back

to something that's gone now

finding comfort

in the void

"i’m chasing more ideas
it doesn’t matter here"
 

 

it's in the water, earth ... sky

it's a release that envelopes us and yes

it's a reminder of who I really am

and what I want to experience

in the short time that we have here

it's what I want to remember

when I fade

to black

 sounding silence




and so
a return to the music 
that makes me feel whole again 
yet worth - another listen



"you crossed this line"
 

Alice

when I am lost in heart ache
shudder, shatter
the pale you
my one and only 
true love

it's like discovering hidden treasure
in that box in grandma's attic
late when they're asleep
discovering magic

this single candle
in the midnight hour

A l i c e

ah ok, let's just pretend we're at this uncomfortable party
and we're like ... shooting the shit

maintaining appearances

"so ya, i remember the first time i did acid" 
that kind of shit

"na, i was never into hard drugs 

having done coke a few times

speed/bennybabies a few times  

too much recouperation required thank you
in my 20's mostly - now in my 50's
no needles 
yuK"

magic mushrooms - a handful of times

acid 3 times.  each time quite wonderful


summer 1979 - wishful thinking

the first time in Shediac New Brunswick 

when i was a musician/singer in Major Hooples

traveling gypsies we were
in a rock band - far away

on the ocean - lights at night
came on after dark
amazing 

family - a concept that reflected remorse
i think i'm supposed to be sad
about something 

aunt allie passed away
when i was thousands of miles away
standing in water
holding a cold florescent fish
waiting for something 
to happen

absent father - absent nephew

i went out to the farm two summers (for several weeks)
from 1963 to 1965 (ages 7-9)

parents/relationship
let's not go there
ok, not good


I helped Uncle Ken (Mom's brother) with the chores
hay/oats - milking the cows
August usually - hot but a cool evening wind
a harvest abundance incoming
fresh corn, veggies and fruit from allie's garden
yummy suppers - no margarine here mom
only fresh butter


drank my first cold beer
after chores w/my Uncle Ken
i was 8 - ah thank you VERY much, Uncle
can I have another?
these Molson's Canadians
have a unique way of quenching
my thirst

"there's nottin' like a cool one after chores"
only one cool one turns into 6 by midnight
six years later - absinthe - heroin?

what-ever

ok, nothing's perfect
one step forward - two steps back
it is what it is


Eastwood Ontario - RR#5 Woodstock
mosquitos, stepping in cow dung/horseflies
dog needs to be tied up cause it's killin' the chickins'


and yet - wow - stepping back
taking a deep breath
fresh

i love this song because it reminds me of what life used to be like

out on the farm, with aunt allie
in the summer of '64
swinging in the hammock


no cares in the world

while she cooks supper 
"hummingbird back"

my announcement from the porch
through a squeaky screen door
crickets singing even in
late afternoon 


"you just leave it be"
having tried to catch it earlier


allie's frail vocabulary
sounding from a fragile formation
flesh and blood - skin and bone - carved in brick and stone
in mind and spirit - heritage heretic
alice is alive in this moment
 
but not for long

  
 
reverberating from the back kitchen
that familiar ambience
in decay and forgiveness - the rattling
of a days end - pots and pans 
her tired words
as the hummingbird disappears

dropping carved potatoes
into a worn, wet aluminum pot
Gershwin on the radio
"nice for a change" - she thinks 
in a rare, confident moment

getting up and going in
the squeaky door 
slamming shut
(letting a dozen flys in)

"geez, what did I tell you about that damn door! "
never cursing officially

no - ah "were you dancin' there?"

"just shush"
I could never be afraid of allie - kind soul
approaching her - smells amazing
wrapping my arms around her waist
and that brief moment of surrender/reciprocation
in her mess - in my missing her
tears often - dismissed - i'm thinkin' 

"rice pudding w/raisins for dessert tonight"
yes

"now that's over - the hug part"
pushing me away only because there's work to do
"ok, ornery is in my general orbit at the moment Jimmy"

Allie looks stressed?  but really isn't
"needs more raisins - get me some out of the pantry
  - and they need to be soaked first - geez" 

she secretly loved having me around
no kids of her own - no man
imprisoned

an inner world
lonely

yes, light out there - I see it 

this feels timeless
farm fresh cream in the bottom of my rice pudding bowl

bam - all gone


"chores after supper
barn stalls need to be cleaned tonight"
she snips

"Ken's gone - you need to do it"
My Uncle Ken - ok, drinking binges
Mom's brother - Allie's nephew
bad news combination
they co-existed together out on the farm


"aw geez" shit - hating the smell of manure
but loving the smell of everything else
looking out a dirty window
and into another the fading sun

part of me hated being here - part of me loved it
only because it was so quiet, peaceful - clean 

gazing out, into the magic
in this moment
it's a life i needed - more than 
wanted 

but i get it

.


sleeping next to her arm in arm on her lumpy bed
after several games of chinese checkers/warm milk
cookies - quiet and dark - candle's out - time for bed
windows open, warm breeze - crickets chirping - full moon

i was Allie's connection to the world back then
her nephew/son, her husband/father (even phantom lover) - all in one package
awakening before the dawn - going outside
looking up into the light

one last time 
  

cold wind

morning glory
closure

goodbye dear

it's in the light that's always on
showing those lost souls
in dangerous water
where home is 

it was the smell more than anything else
earth/air, sky - life - redemption
 



A l i c e



 
Allie passed away a few years later
after returning home to Woodstock Ontario
on tour with my band when she passed - bummer

baptised and buried in my bereavement
she was 77 years old, tired
gone - just outside
of town
 

i was just a kid

she had long whiskers

on her chin

her food dripped from it

at dinner and then supper

when i stayed out there
on the family farm

summer months
white hair
smile

dry (overcooked) roast beef, boiled potatoes
fresh horseradish and parsnips from the garden
cracked wheat bread - dipped in molasses
mopping up what's left on our plate
local radio news - through a
crackling mono-phonic
non fidelity speaker  

dogs, cats - birds and insects
all in abundant supply 

sleeping with her in her lumpy bed
wanting to be close to her
because

i loved her

sweet soul - kind - my only real aunt

my only other connection

to the outside world

family

there can be a quality to aloneness
this i have learned - fear takes on a
new meaning, when you lose someone close

time to listen

worrying is praying for something you don't want

or as allie once said to me (stirring lumps out of the gravy)
"why spend all your time frettin' and fussin -
because none of that's gonna matter in the end anyway"

Aunt Allie is a memory and a spirit

that lives on in me






(dedicated to Alice McFarland)