is it a fire safety thing?
more likely
a flood safety thing
the story i heard tonight
an old almost-friend
how he went to Gurneville for New Year's
and the town flooded
the storms
built in a flood plane
yeah
"water level would flood your room, sir"
said the hotel clerk
"if you're not out of here in an hour, you won't be able to leave
but you can stay here if you want... there just won't be any electricity or ... anything"
how he was shocked his x-love
was living in england and on the dole
with a guy on the dole
"no body works there, i don't understand how they can do that"
-- ' it's what they aspire to in San Francisco as well '
i said
' everyone does their best to get labeled "DISABLED"
be it through HIV or insanity or addiction or something
-- then the government pays them to stay alive '
and he went onto to tell me how a friend of mine
- i didn't know -
is positive
converted two years ago
and his lover (of 11 years or something)
just converted last year
"he's really depressed about it"
he said
yeah
whatever the fuck it is, virus
who the fuck knows
but you get it from pressing the boundaries of what you've been told you're allowed to do
try and touch someone with out fear
without walls
try and open up
to have fun
to connect wholly
and you get slapped with some label that means you're sick
and that you'll get sick
and sicker
and die a terrible painful death
and if you try to touch anyone openly again
you'll kill them too
yeah
it's depressing
what are your options?
take mass amounts of poison every day
to keep yourself at a manageable, expectable level of sickness every day
yeah
great options
thanks for the story
wow
of course
he wanted me to stay the night
but it was too depressing
connected
i reached out
connect
touch him
touch someone
to be Not Alone
what's there?
we lay in bed and he tells me about his child hood jobs
joining the union
working in a factory
deliverying water to the workers
$12 an hour in the early 70's!
stoned the whole time
wow, what luck
"it was fabulous"
by some standards, i guess
wow
mediocrity and empty existance sure is swell
he rushed down stairs
my constant presence
what was it? empty or full?
too much for him
he needed his cigarettes
his TV
some show
whatever
"it's good"
and i was hungry
he offered me chicken he cooked himself on his rotissery
but microwaved it
though i asked him not to
he told me "it's good; it won't hurt you"
"this house"
he said
"it had nothing
i've been working on it for two years
-- they want to buy it from me
... and just tear it down
build something bigger
you know
this is the most expensive land in Amsterdam now
this area
... it'd double my money
-- i can buy a house out in bumfuck...
this little house.."
i just couldn't spend the night
i stood out in the cold
the hail on the ground all around me
waiting for the bus
"Voices Carry" ('til tuesday)
and
"the Shoe Song" (shellac)
so
"good morning captain" (slint)
the bus didn't go the same route back
the whole city is under construction
so i got off at the Leidseplein
and walked to the Spyker
drank a jaggermister
watched Ren & Stimpy
with another television next to it showing
fisting porn
doing it's best to show the heavy emotional writhing connection between the two shaved smooth muscle Kens
the walk home was nice
i guess
memories
and i surprised myself by being able to sing the entire "bloody mother fucking asshole" song by Martha Wainwright to myself
... i didn't even know i knew all the words
then i sang "in my heart" by moby for 10 minutes or so
hoping i wasn't waking up too many people
it's late
the lights on the canal
i'm back at the rectory now
and i can't stop thinking of all the closed doors in amsterdam
white flat doors
in every house
they keep them all closed
and everywhere looks like rooms with no ways out
just turn the handle
(though they all look the same)
is that a closet? a toilet? a bathroom? a kitchen?
noken in de koken?
i'm behind a closed door now
and it's the end of the day
sleep soon, baby.
