Yesterday was the greatest day 2006 has had the generosity of giving me.
Athradius, please calm your anxious mind,
In truth you have more allies than you think.
So quick to opposition, you would bind
Your self corporeal in mind’s steel link.
That I’d have stayed a moment less, relent
To your advice, today I’d need not choose:
Resolve in stasis dissipates content;
I’m ever made a fool by second views.
You must away come fall, and not look back,
And to this blessing which befell of late,
Your call may once be answered, in the black
And effervescing hurricane of fate.
So worry nevermore; I’ve found your heart
A home away from home, ‘til you depart.
-----
It’s Montreal or nothing.
All good things must come to an end.
That’s what we tell ourselves, if we allow ourselves to believe that anything has truly begun at all. I am becoming increasingly sure that there is no time at all, and everything simply is or is not, regardless of when.
Time is an illusion. A poor excuse for unfinished homework. A fine excuse for death.
-----
I broke the law yesterday. I justify it by saying that in less than a month it will be legal for me.
In less than a month I am eighteen years old. June 10th’s the day, actually. There’s a party that’s going to happen at my Lockport house that day, and if you’re reading this you’re probably invited, unless you’re some random person that enjoys reading about my life that I don’t know. In which case, thanks for your support.
In less than a month I will be able to drive past nine o’clock at night. Legally - for sure enough, there I was, pulling into the driveway at half past eleven, Bernard Fanning serenading my clandestine journey. I broke the law yesterday; it happens.
I was expecting to have to explain myself. Why exactly it was half past eleven upon my arrival, and not an arguably more reasonable hour, such as nine. But the night spun away, a vision before a nearly disbelieving rational psyche, and no inquiry occurred.
Jim: So how was it?
What could I say to explain such a time? In my head I had already begun to compose the sonnet you see above, though it wasn’t completed until the next day, that being today.
Jim: They were nice people?
They were people who threw French fries at windshields. But yes, they were nice people.
Jim: There’s something wrong with the printer… I’ve been at this for a while, can’t seem to figure out what it wants me to do.
I had become a Minion. And what had it done to me?
Moose: I think I’ve fixed it, or at least put it in a position to fix itself. If you don’t mind, I’m off to bed.
Jim: Goodnight, Moose.
Moose: Goodnight, Father.
The next morning he was not easily awakened. But by chance this placed me in the back of the church where I was to go, beside the rest of the latecomers and those sacrificing the luxury of a seat to those less fortunate and capable of balance. My placement reacquainted me with the array of propaganda the church places in the back - nothing I had ever read, but one title caught my attention.
I can’t even recall the title for certain now, though it was something to the extent of teaching family values to children. I was curious as to how they defined family values in children’s terms, but as I moved toward taking it without having made a donation, I was frowned upon by Kevin the usher.
Having hardly spoken to the man, I am yet convinced that Kevin the usher has an amazing life story concealed within him which I would like very much one day to sit down with him to hear.
What family values were I taught that made me who I am, and allowed to shrivel my relations with my own family? I felt more in place among a family yesterday, a majority of whom I had met that day, than with mine. Does this make me a bad person? Where does this put me years from now, coming back to visit my family? What shall I do at family reunions?
I’m finished with questions. I am also finished with profound thoughts. Both of those tend to make me immensely upset with most things. And I could hardly be more the opposite.
April the twenty-eighth: I started again.
Again.
And this time it’s passed the test of the Duke of Sullacaer.
I told myself I wasn’t going put myself through this again. But then, I tell myself an awful lot of things that turn out not to be true. Besides, this part of the walk is downhill.
In truth you have more allies than you think.
So quick to opposition, you would bind
Your self corporeal in mind’s steel link.
That I’d have stayed a moment less, relent
To your advice, today I’d need not choose:
Resolve in stasis dissipates content;
I’m ever made a fool by second views.
You must away come fall, and not look back,
And to this blessing which befell of late,
Your call may once be answered, in the black
And effervescing hurricane of fate.
So worry nevermore; I’ve found your heart
A home away from home, ‘til you depart.
-----
It’s Montreal or nothing.
All good things must come to an end.
That’s what we tell ourselves, if we allow ourselves to believe that anything has truly begun at all. I am becoming increasingly sure that there is no time at all, and everything simply is or is not, regardless of when.
Time is an illusion. A poor excuse for unfinished homework. A fine excuse for death.
-----
I broke the law yesterday. I justify it by saying that in less than a month it will be legal for me.
In less than a month I am eighteen years old. June 10th’s the day, actually. There’s a party that’s going to happen at my Lockport house that day, and if you’re reading this you’re probably invited, unless you’re some random person that enjoys reading about my life that I don’t know. In which case, thanks for your support.
In less than a month I will be able to drive past nine o’clock at night. Legally - for sure enough, there I was, pulling into the driveway at half past eleven, Bernard Fanning serenading my clandestine journey. I broke the law yesterday; it happens.
I was expecting to have to explain myself. Why exactly it was half past eleven upon my arrival, and not an arguably more reasonable hour, such as nine. But the night spun away, a vision before a nearly disbelieving rational psyche, and no inquiry occurred.
Jim: So how was it?
What could I say to explain such a time? In my head I had already begun to compose the sonnet you see above, though it wasn’t completed until the next day, that being today.
Jim: They were nice people?
They were people who threw French fries at windshields. But yes, they were nice people.
Jim: There’s something wrong with the printer… I’ve been at this for a while, can’t seem to figure out what it wants me to do.
I had become a Minion. And what had it done to me?
Moose: I think I’ve fixed it, or at least put it in a position to fix itself. If you don’t mind, I’m off to bed.
Jim: Goodnight, Moose.
Moose: Goodnight, Father.
The next morning he was not easily awakened. But by chance this placed me in the back of the church where I was to go, beside the rest of the latecomers and those sacrificing the luxury of a seat to those less fortunate and capable of balance. My placement reacquainted me with the array of propaganda the church places in the back - nothing I had ever read, but one title caught my attention.
I can’t even recall the title for certain now, though it was something to the extent of teaching family values to children. I was curious as to how they defined family values in children’s terms, but as I moved toward taking it without having made a donation, I was frowned upon by Kevin the usher.
Having hardly spoken to the man, I am yet convinced that Kevin the usher has an amazing life story concealed within him which I would like very much one day to sit down with him to hear.
What family values were I taught that made me who I am, and allowed to shrivel my relations with my own family? I felt more in place among a family yesterday, a majority of whom I had met that day, than with mine. Does this make me a bad person? Where does this put me years from now, coming back to visit my family? What shall I do at family reunions?
I’m finished with questions. I am also finished with profound thoughts. Both of those tend to make me immensely upset with most things. And I could hardly be more the opposite.
April the twenty-eighth: I started again.
Again.
And this time it’s passed the test of the Duke of Sullacaer.
I told myself I wasn’t going put myself through this again. But then, I tell myself an awful lot of things that turn out not to be true. Besides, this part of the walk is downhill.