there's a marker in a grave yard
a ghost - haunting me
G. J. (Jim) LaMarche
1925 - 2002
it's a flat stone in a back corner where other lost souls rest in peace
in Woodslee Ontario, where dad lived in his last five years on this earth
it's about the size of an internet banner ad that flashes
flash shit on the screen - pulling you in, and yet
leaving you feeling - empty after
a few seconds - in a life
still here
let's just say that there's a whole new level
of appreciation going on here
this is a story about my dad
who i miss and still appreciate - on a primal level
he's what i had to work with - and i made the best of it
because - that's just what you do
he was a fragmented father figure and i loved him
still do
.
i found his ashes in 2005, after some soul searching, going there
asking questions - his previous landlord whom he had left his modest nest-egg to
i hadn't seen him in years - but just before mom died in 2004 - she told us to find him
and so - i did (better late than never)
the dust settling on a hot July afternoon there in 2005, exercising discomfort
finding him 6 feet under - nothing but a photo-album
most of the pictures missing - pulled out
but a few remaining
g h o s t
a ghost - haunting me
G. J. (Jim) LaMarche
1925 - 2002
it's a flat stone in a back corner where other lost souls rest in peace
in Woodslee Ontario, where dad lived in his last five years on this earth
it's about the size of an internet banner ad that flashes
flash shit on the screen - pulling you in, and yet
leaving you feeling - empty after
a few seconds - in a life
still here
let's just say that there's a whole new level
of appreciation going on here
this is a story about my dad
who i miss and still appreciate - on a primal level
he's what i had to work with - and i made the best of it
because - that's just what you do
he was a fragmented father figure and i loved him
still do
.
i found his ashes in 2005, after some soul searching, going there
asking questions - his previous landlord whom he had left his modest nest-egg to
i hadn't seen him in years - but just before mom died in 2004 - she told us to find him
and so - i did (better late than never)
the dust settling on a hot July afternoon there in 2005, exercising discomfort
finding him 6 feet under - nothing but a photo-album
most of the pictures missing - pulled out
but a few remaining
g h o s t
G.J. (Jim) LaMarche
i had visited him there, first in Belle River, then Windsor
and then in Woodslee, where he lived in a tiny apartment
in an older building on the main intersection
of a town where tumbleweeds roll
where there was always
an underfed dog just
hanging around
in a swarm
of flys
i was always really uncomfortable there
like we were supposed to interact a certain way
in some sort of scenerio
devised by division
in doggy-doo
circumcised by
definition
choreographed in derision
slow torture
mom finally left dad in 1966 in Woodstock and took us
(my younger brother David and I) with her
it was a brutal relationship
he was absent
gone
and when he was around
he was miserable
she got really sick (almost died then - cancer/surgery)
and he took us and moved us away from her - way south
with a woman we didn't know - an old girlfriend in a bad marriage
an "affair" he had previously
years earlier - whatever
"Ag (Agnes) is your new mom now"
what?? no way! ok ... wow
getting a say in that
NOT
we were stripped of any contact with mom, who found us
bringing us back - abandoning him/her 6 years later
dad's story - we had no choice
really
i mean - there was a time after leaving Woodstock
when we didn't even know if she was alive or not
all part of the plan
years pass
Agnes is history
dumped her into the garbage just after we left
used and abused - all too
familiar
years pass
Woodslee Ontario is one of those places
where those who don't know where to go - go
because it's on the map and has a convenience store within walking distance
all the essentials - a gas station which is also a tavern and local watering hole
paradise
it's a mutt-dive but multi-tasking as a "muff-dive"
ok a "re-fill" station on a number of levels
attracting regulars at the crack of noon
the same handful of guys every day
arriving at the same vacuous time
like clockwork - for a couple
of beers and a story
about something
gone wrong
no real pleasure and yet no pain either
that's - the deal-maker - the perfect get-away
(and all very affordable)
it's all in the plan
there's even a church, town ID signs
and a grave yard, just on the outskirts of town
a 5 minute walk away
all about 5km south of Belle River - his previous romp
drifting there in default - even further away
no phone, no mailbox even
remote recording
and then in Woodslee, where he lived in a tiny apartment
in an older building on the main intersection
of a town where tumbleweeds roll
where there was always
an underfed dog just
hanging around
in a swarm
of flys
i was always really uncomfortable there
like we were supposed to interact a certain way
in some sort of scenerio
devised by division
in doggy-doo
circumcised by
definition
choreographed in derision
slow torture
mom finally left dad in 1966 in Woodstock and took us
(my younger brother David and I) with her
it was a brutal relationship
he was absent
gone
and when he was around
he was miserable
she got really sick (almost died then - cancer/surgery)
and he took us and moved us away from her - way south
with a woman we didn't know - an old girlfriend in a bad marriage
an "affair" he had previously
years earlier - whatever
"Ag (Agnes) is your new mom now"
what?? no way! ok ... wow
getting a say in that
NOT
we were stripped of any contact with mom, who found us
bringing us back - abandoning him/her 6 years later
dad's story - we had no choice
really
i mean - there was a time after leaving Woodstock
when we didn't even know if she was alive or not
all part of the plan
years pass
Agnes is history
dumped her into the garbage just after we left
used and abused - all too
familiar
years pass
Woodslee Ontario is one of those places
where those who don't know where to go - go
because it's on the map and has a convenience store within walking distance
all the essentials - a gas station which is also a tavern and local watering hole
paradise
it's a mutt-dive but multi-tasking as a "muff-dive"
ok a "re-fill" station on a number of levels
attracting regulars at the crack of noon
the same handful of guys every day
arriving at the same vacuous time
like clockwork - for a couple
of beers and a story
about something
gone wrong
no real pleasure and yet no pain either
that's - the deal-maker - the perfect get-away
(and all very affordable)
it's all in the plan
there's even a church, town ID signs
and a grave yard, just on the outskirts of town
a 5 minute walk away
all about 5km south of Belle River - his previous romp
drifting there in default - even further away
no phone, no mailbox even
remote recording
this is an open letter to you dad
years later - what i've realized now that i didn't get then
because i was pre-occupied and distracted
just like you were
you loved the water
it was in your blood and carried forward
raised in a poor religious home in Woodstock Ontario
growing up in the great depression and leaving early
because your father beat you
"belt strappings - buckle in"
as you constantly reminded us as kids - scared of our own shadows
needing to get out
joining the army because it was the thing to do
making a place for yourself in a world of warnings and woe
returning home with a new-found sense of independence
only it wasn't yours - it was borrowed - stolen
not yours to take
now with 2 really sad, alienated kids
who have no idea what the fuck
is going on
when we arrived in Stoney Point
you had lost all direction in life - having depended on a woman
who you abused emotionally after marrying her - because you had no idea
what was going on - other than the fact that you were alive
and following your nose to the next sweet'n sour smell
and then the next
collecting store sale flyers
and driving from store to store for the best deal
to save a buck
dragging your sons along because you needed them as collateral
a way to dignify your recalcitrant deportation
it was something we lived inside for years - still do
without you
g h o s t
finding inspiration in a fish we caught on Lake St Clair
in early spring - on a line we left out overnight
tied to a pole on the dock - all stuff we found
beach-combing - maybe a worm dug
out of the ground for bait
that carp giving a good fight
pulling it in with no rod, just line out
beaching the sucker
before killing it
then there were the rituals
all for show - following
the formula
you sent us to sunday-school - why
religion was a curse - but marketable nonetheless
you hated it but played with it
because it was the right thing to do - only you didn't identify
never coming with us to church - all part of the plan to impress the courts
shared rides with neighbours and the perfect photo-op picture that you
took to impress the system - those who can sway a custody decision your way
and put that bitch away - for good
didn't work daddy
we got hurt - really hurt
you sir, are a trickster
a ghost
earlier on
your friends playing the game just like you did
in the early 60's when you were on a roll
gratuitous golf touraments on a business tab
that fake fishing trip - with those who identified
with your pretend purpose - hanging on to something
that still means something - married and shit
all the baggage that qualified your existence as a
normal man
religion was a curse - but marketable nonetheless
you hated it but played with it
because it was the right thing to do - only you didn't identify
never coming with us to church - all part of the plan to impress the courts
shared rides with neighbours and the perfect photo-op picture that you
took to impress the system - those who can sway a custody decision your way
and put that bitch away - for good
didn't work daddy
we got hurt - really hurt
you sir, are a trickster
a ghost
earlier on
your friends playing the game just like you did
in the early 60's when you were on a roll
gratuitous golf touraments on a business tab
that fake fishing trip - with those who identified
with your pretend purpose - hanging on to something
that still means something - married and shit
all the baggage that qualified your existence as a
normal man
finding her - marrying a woman
you didn't understand - but she's pretty
and she likes to fish - good cook and overall pretty good lay
knocking her up first - a no brainer
abortion not an option then
in 1956 - Sudbury
ok, mom's a spitfire
unlike most women at the time
because she expressed herself
especially if she didn't like something
coming with some self-realization
a consciousness
it's not something you planned on but surfacing over time
just wishing she would roll over and shut up, late at night in bed
asking questions and not wanting
to answer them
always distractions
constant comparisons to what looks better
the suit you wear, the car you drive
how your woman behaves
shit like that
"you can always tell a man by the car he drives"
an important lesson that i learned early on
back when i was still innocent
and not questioning
what he said
because - he's your dad
and he knows everything
success measured in the money you have
and how you present yourself
nothing else really matters
or does it
?
"it's all about snagging the snatch and grab"
it's like being in a bad Hollywood caper B movie
only the heist taking place in the present
the perfect package - a combination of corrections
incubated in an insular set of ideas
that have nothing to do
with what's real
you didn't understand - but she's pretty
and she likes to fish - good cook and overall pretty good lay
knocking her up first - a no brainer
abortion not an option then
in 1956 - Sudbury
ok, mom's a spitfire
unlike most women at the time
because she expressed herself
especially if she didn't like something
coming with some self-realization
a consciousness
it's not something you planned on but surfacing over time
just wishing she would roll over and shut up, late at night in bed
asking questions and not wanting
to answer them
always distractions
constant comparisons to what looks better
the suit you wear, the car you drive
how your woman behaves
shit like that
"you can always tell a man by the car he drives"
an important lesson that i learned early on
back when i was still innocent
and not questioning
what he said
because - he's your dad
and he knows everything
success measured in the money you have
and how you present yourself
nothing else really matters
or does it
?
"it's all about snagging the snatch and grab"
it's like being in a bad Hollywood caper B movie
only the heist taking place in the present
the perfect package - a combination of corrections
incubated in an insular set of ideas
that have nothing to do
with what's real
always out to catch the big fish
and then show it off
to everyone
it's an ego thing
ok, strong egos "define" positive change - a sense of purpose
it's a benevolence towards humanity - whereas
BIG egos seek power without thinking of others
in mischievous malevolence
guess you missed that chapter in the book of life
didn't really need to read that one because
of it's irrelevance (don't need to know that)
ah northern ontario
my home
ok, it's NOT really necessary to KNOW certain things
i mean - ok
you can get by - by skimming the surface
fudging the facts - tripping the light - buffing the bishop
making the right impression - cracking the code
creating a facade and all without having to do any of the real work
that my friend ... is how it's done
just wake up and smell the roses
i read it in a magazine advertisement
on a train to no-where when i was sleeping peacefully
in total denial
success - is just an illusion
and happiness is all about how you look
in a world that is willfully ignorant
of what's really important
anyway
you can live in a shack
but being IN the loop
is showing up in a Cadillac
it's crazy
regardless of what has happened
i surrender - something i wish you could have done
let go of all the shit that entangles us
confusion … chaos
it's almost incestuous
like it's something that get's passed on without our knowing it
like it's something we're supposed to carry forward
because it's our "duty" to
i mean - ok
you can get by - by skimming the surface
fudging the facts - tripping the light - buffing the bishop
making the right impression - cracking the code
creating a facade and all without having to do any of the real work
that my friend ... is how it's done
just wake up and smell the roses
i read it in a magazine advertisement
on a train to no-where when i was sleeping peacefully
in total denial
success - is just an illusion
and happiness is all about how you look
in a world that is willfully ignorant
of what's really important
anyway
you can live in a shack
but being IN the loop
is showing up in a Cadillac
it's crazy
regardless of what has happened
i surrender - something i wish you could have done
let go of all the shit that entangles us
confusion … chaos
it's almost incestuous
like it's something that get's passed on without our knowing it
like it's something we're supposed to carry forward
because it's our "duty" to
g h o s t
i can't do this anymore
i love you and i am clicking
the "unsubscribe button"
all said and done, i'm thinking
thinking that maybe - just maybe
it could have all been all
so different
real art is seeing/hearing
something new every time you
take it in
something you never got
to appreciate because
no one showed it
to you
i love you and i am clicking
the "unsubscribe button"
all said and done, i'm thinking
thinking that maybe - just maybe
it could have all been all
so different
real art is seeing/hearing
something new every time you
take it in
something you never got
to appreciate because
no one showed it
to you
goodbye daddy
.
.
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