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Evicted
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1423
Having to pack up my shit, get out of the guest-house for a few days, there's visitors, my shit, my countless garage sale finds, they're everywhere...
I try to talk her out of it..."You don't want them to get too cozy or they'll want to stay on here...". She just laughs, she gets it, I've become rather transparently a pest, the uninvited guest who's stayed on just a bit too long, summer here will be busy, there will be lots of guests visiting, time to get a place. Damn. Well, not damn, it's time as well for me to start getting settled, almost 3 months already, and my interests will come along, for the moment I've gotten a little too comfortable in temporary housing, time now to pack up my shit and get going, find a place of my own, she's been more than generous and try as I might to summon up my mock indignation at being displaced I know I haven't got a leg to stand on...
"Free Man on the Land!!" I shout, I got this from an old roomate, he knew the rules..."I'm a free-man on the land!!!" but it's not working, I got 2 days, clean it all up, get out. Fuck.
The Death Doula
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 899
I've noticed her, hard not to, slender figure, a fine shape, beautiful face. We've chatted, briefly, she's beautiful, a mild flirtation, she's usually in to catch the ferry, a short window, and here, I'm busy, always busy...
The other waitress knows her, they live on the other side of the lake, small community, she tells me she's a Doula.
Tonight, she's in, alone, 5 minutes after the last ferry left, meaning for 2 hours, or an hour an 50 minutes , and so tonight, slow enough to chat, a wee bit, and I ask her about the Doula bit...
She's not a Doula, she's a registered nurse. But funny I should ask, she's thinking about becoming a death doula....
Curious, for me, because I knew somebody else once who had an interest in this. Me, death, pretty cut and dried, I've lots of practice, it doesn't particularly scare me (anymore) but I'd like to be ready. Not "Doula" ready, but - well, have my locker organized, have certain of my creative projects out of the way. But I'm not everyone, and I've met a lot of people who were scared to death of it...no pun intended. People who hung on far longer than was seemly, becoming, people who had this inarticulate fear and apprehension of death and would do anything to avoid it. Anything, in Canada, means anything that we - the taxpayers - are willing to pay for.
It's curious, I get it, and no, at the same time, death is the end, embrace it, live well and nave nothing to regret. Make room for the new generation. I sometimes worry that I'm a little too cavalier about it all, I think I just get it in a broader, metaphysical sense.
She's 55. She drops her age and it explodes lite a fucking nuclear bomb. "No Way!!" I tell her, she looks good for a woman of 40, 35 even, good period, she's a beautiful woman, well composed and collected, but she's not taking the flattery, "YES", absolute, I've never seen this, in Calgary, wherever, never. She's beautiful, and I hate to be ageist (being old myself) - but - well, you don't see this. Amazing. All my prejudices out the window.
The night gets busy, the conversation lulls, I want to buy her a drink, lead the conversation away from here, discover her a bit more thoroughly, but work and professionalism forbid, I'll break that taboo for sure, soon, I know, don't want to be "that waiter", but I'm here, she's keen, and while nurses aren't my thing I'm curious...
Every creeks been panned a thousand times...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1211
I'm talking with R#3, Sr, the owner (or one of) the restaurant, he's telling me he's known a few prospectors, none of them made it, would buy, work, then sell on their worthless claims to suckers...
"Every creeks been panned a thousand times..." he tells me.
Doubtless it's true. But Gold was never at the price it is now. And there are a thousand minerals as valuable - or more so - than gold. And the market for those minerals is recent. And I have a thousand other counter arguments, watch a few YouTube videos, but his POV, it's excellent, it's why I have every confidence that I'm going to get rich...
cue circus music
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1215
Aviator sunglasses, middle aged, balding, beard, he's just in for a beer, aloof, watching me. Anyone new here is an object of suspicion to the locals.
After a bit a couple of the local girls join him. I know them, have seen them at the Balfour Superette, party girls, if you know what I mean. They're acquainted, sit together, everyone in town is acquainted if you think about it, out here, population 350, ... they have a couple of drinks, I bring him another beer.
"You know a lot of unusual people?" he asks me, I laugh, "Look where I'm working...". He could take this two ways, he takes it the right way, "...and you decided to settle here...", he parries, introduces himself.
Paying his bill, the girls, they're trying to persuade him to "go out", "come over", oh, I know this story, P4P, he's not interested, just wants to go home. I look at him...
"Cue Circus Music?" I ask...
"You know the actual title of that is: 'Entry of The Gladiator'" he tells me, then: "No, no, I gotta get home, get some sleep. Funny title for the song..."
"It's because you gotta be a fucking gladiator at 6:00 AM when you're up searching for blow-outs and crumbs....".
"I never looked at it that way before...." he replies...
We're completely on the same page, I've been to the same party a hundred, thousand times, at the old restaurant, the Bosses Nephew, J**, it's reassuring, this, so much unspoken yet we both completely know what's going on...
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