The Stranger's journey has now come full circle.
Join me in the bright sunshine at When Words Go Free...

There are still stories to be told.
Read them at The Stranger Looks Back.

At This Table

The old man sat at the table that had been such a small part of the biggest purchase he had ever made, but that was now all that was left of that deal, and for the first time he realized how much this table had meant to him;

He recalled when he sat there on the eve of his 47th birthday and fell into the looking glass, and for the first time he made a connection between that metaphor and the fact that this table is glass-topped.

He reminisced about the strange and wonderful journey he had taken to the pyramids and back, and for the first time he marvelled at how far and wide he had travelled while sitting at this table.

He reflected upon the night, exactly 42 weeks to the hour after he had embarked upon that journey, when he was finally ready to leave his seat for a road trip, and for the first time he understood that it was the time spent at this table that had led him to know.

But most of all, he remembered the day he fell off his chair at the sight of those three little words, and for the first time it became clear to him just how big a role this table had played in his life.

And then he filled his glass again and thought he ought to write a poem about this table some day.

The Night Lenny Got Married

Exactly 30 years ago tonight, Lenny got married.

I had no idea at the time, but it would change my relationship with the Universe in a way that would bring me to where I am today. which is on my back porch, an empty box of red swill at my side, writing this drivel.

I was supposed to have had a date. Her name was Natalie, and we were great friends. I had met her a bit under two years earlier at a screening of some obscure cult film at a repertory house. We had been great friends ever since.

At the time, she was in an ambiguous relationship with some guy named Dieter or Dietrich or something like that. But she was going to come with me to Lenny's wedding, until she didn't. Apparently he called her from Vancouver, where he was at the time, and for some reason I don't remember, that made her decide to not come with me to Lenny's wedding.

In any case, the wedding came and went, and when it was over, I headed downtown. Getting off the metro I noticed this attractive blonde but I lost her on the way out of the station. I saw her again a bit after, and mustering up what little bravado  I had at the time, asked her if I could buy her a drink.

We went to the closest bar, where I bought her a drink. During which time, it turned out that she had been kicked out of her father's home, on account of the boyfriend she had just broken up with, and had no place to go. Naturally, I offered her mine, and there we went. She slept in my bed, I on the couch, because it was only 1984 and I hadn't graduated from decent to opportunistic yet.

The next day, she left to get some things from her father's house, and I never saw her again.

So how did this seemingly insignificant encounter change my relationship with the Universe in a way that has had a profound effect on where I am today, you ask?

30 years later, I have no fucking recollection of the details, but I vaguely remember that something about Brenda (the metro blonde) had to do with Vancouver, which had to do with Natalie, which had to do with the Universe giving me signs, or at least me imagining that it did so. The significance of which those of you who have followed this blog understand. The rest of you can read up, or not.

As I mentioned, I never did see Brenda again, but I did remain great friends with Natalie for several years, including one night when we both got high and she came on to me and I pretended not to notice and she joined the ranks of the top two One Who Got Away. but that's another story, one which will never be told here. (Unless it already has - I can't be arsed to go through the archives right now.)

For at least the first couple of the last three decades, I imagined writing a story with this particular title, but the imagined end result was never quite like this. It was going to be much clearer, much more profound, much more meaningful in the grand scheme of things. Oh well. At least it's done, and I don't have to do it anymore.