sons and uniforms

I dragged dante around all day yesterday, down to the police station, off to the office and then even to the welfare office (alberta gives you two checks if you GET a job - but fuck all if you can't get it together - I know that my folks would pay feb.'s rent but you know - if the moneys' there you might as well go though the paper work ), well he was sooo bitchy by then - he told me to shut up - that he thought that I was selfish, ect... this girl that was walking on the sidewalk ahead of us gave us the dirtiest look. I think most people are brought up to show respect to their elders (alberta is a very conservative society - they still do abstract painting out here like modernism never ended - bible belt style) so it was no suprise that someone overhearing us would find such great discomfort in hearing a child talk with so much disrespect to his father... We walked the rest of the way in silence - what was I to say - 'show some respect' ? It made me so sad. But he walked beside me - didn't fall back - I tied my scarf around his neck when his face looked cold. And as we rounded the parking lot, when we could see the apartment he said sorry - 'sorry I think that I'm just a little grumpy.' So I picked him up. And in my arms I walked and talked quietly to him and kissed his cheek - " you know I think that the only reason that you say those things is because you feel safe, and it's good to express your emotions - your very good at that ."

We came in and sat on the couch together and talked, his arms around me. Talked about what was wrong - what we couldn't change and had to except. It's hard to be there for him - the games are mind numbing repeatative - honestly I would rather cook something in the kitchen while he played by himself. Relishing the privilage of his company in a quiet detached way, but that's not, I suppose what he's crying out for. Being a parent is hard. It's frought with difficulties. I cannot imagine coming of age now. When I was a child the world was still stable. He was born in the shadow of Y2K - we we told that the world may even stop - and when 2000 came to australia and we could see the live broadcast from the beaches - seeing the sun rise - I felt such a great sense of release - that the world would not stop - I tried to hide this, I remember - because willow caught me there with a tear in my eye and she laughted at me.

Well then came 911, and the litany of what has followed. These are things that we all shared - and I suppose that, in sharing them, it made them bearable. But dante also saw me come undone - brought down by a love for a women, and nothing can be done about that now. I have somehow regained some of what was lost. And I am surprised that the police record seach turned a blind eye to all the offical records that now mark my name. Who better to look after the crazy then someone that has suffered from the same savage affliction.

I cried a tear or too then, at the openness of this beautiful child, my son. But that, because of all that has come and gone - drives him crazy - I know that he remembers all to well the days that I would start to cry and was utterly unable to stop. And I was taken away - and he went to live with his mother, to be put in day care. Writing this down, remembering, causes a wave of shame that I can not mitigate - I know that I did my best - and in that there is comfort - but I wish that he would have had to part in it. But there was nobody there to help us. I called out for help - and there was none - until it was too late - I was committed and he was taken away... hmmm... where did that tangent come from? The king of tangents - isn't that what you said of me once?

Last night I woke with a scream in my thoughts - because I am not smoking pot - dreaming has floaded back, and I am so ill prepared for it; I have missed 10 years of dreams. Their accuracy is startling. These fears that I have packed away come parading out. Held up in the nightime sunlight of dreams. Willow, my father are such troubling figures in my life. And this morning I am growing weary of them - their remaining power over me - and I suppose these dreams have left me raw and uncomposed - so I suppose that is why I write such words of admission... forgive me.

Monday I will wear the uniform that was given me. Dark blue pants, a light blue short sleave shirt, and a clip on tie. (I hate clip on ties, but they assured me that once someone grabs on to it - with every intent to kill me - and the thing simply pops off, I will know in my heart why.

I am nervous as hell. The women in the security office gathered around me in the last few minutes of instruction - four or five of them - I knew them each seperately but seeing them together, their looks of concern - each listening with such emotional concern - I'm scared - we would think that you were reckless if you weren't... well so then that were it's at. "take the non-violent restraining course as soon as you can - people skills are very transfereable - my favorite nurse said ( it's odd because I don't remember any of their names ).

7.45 - at the university of edmonton hospital - then - (( exhale )) i am scared....

malaise

I think that I have a job -- a patient constant attendant - - it's - well - it's sorta a shitty job - but I don't have to go outside and I think that I will be good at it. Basically you're the 'eyes and ears' of the nurses. But mostly you sit at the bedside of someone that is crazy and they're at risk to themselves 'cause they're going to get out of bed and fall - or wake up from the operation -freak out and try to rip all the tubes that are running out and in of their body -- It would be nice if they were all beautiful young women that were tragically inflicted with a malaize of desperate depression and that they each tried to take their life and that I was waiting by their bedside, like some angel of doom, and I would tell these scared girls that life was for the living and it may be short - but it is beautiful..... But it sounds like they're going to either be crazy from old age - drugs -- illness, and that never looks good. Shit I don't think that they'll let me attend to women because crazy women have the disposition of accusing men of sexual abuse. 70 year old guys aren't going to do that, so they mostly put women with the women and the men with the men. Anyway back to my little self agrandizing little fantasy. It's in technicolour - and the girls all like me and we steal away to some beautiful distant place, all the while avril laveen sings about the ownership of the individual experience - how to be alone is such a beautiful thing.. 'so much for my happy endings.' but in the morning I'm back at the hospital - sitting next to the next drugged out teen that got so hopped up last night that the cops had to drag 'em in and now that consciousness is slowly returning I'm sitting there with the door behind me, wondering just how they are going to react to the shock of still being alive....

I think that this is an excellent opportunity - if the police security check comes through clear - and they don't find out what my doctor said about me so that I could keep getting welfare long after I shouldn't have - if it's all clear - then I've got the job- - - I've never had to have a security check before- even when I worked with other peoples' kids - there was never a check - so it's kinda interesting...


look one last thing - I just finished reading ' the navigators of new york ' I don't know if your reading much these days - reading novels is such a bouroque thing to do - I mean who the fuck has the time to really keep up with the booker prize - I mean come on - who ...?

anyway in this novel there is a race for the north pole - and I couldn't help but think that you and I should make an attempt at the pole - I mean could you fucken' believe doing that - we could get some pimped up snowmobiles and you know - make a run at it -- the thing different about now and then is that if you get into any sorta problems there is alway some Labrador helicopter that's going to come and pluck you off the ice before you die... I wonder if you could get enough from the arts communities to fund it. What do you think - hey? isn't that the most far fetched idea I've ever come up with - and you know: I think that it's totally possible.

B & E

Last night someone kicked my door in. I was going to quit smoking today, but I guess it bothered me so much I didn't bother.

I don't know, I guess when they kicked in the door I must have woke up. I did hear noises outside my bedroom but asumed that they were in the hallway. My neighbour, the girl that likes next door, came into my apartment pushing open my bedroom door after she hear the break and enter, and because she hadn't hear anything from me, she half expected to see a corpse. She was calling out to me that I should get up, that my front door was open, that someone had broken in. Then I got it, I understood that my front door had been kicked.

In the morning I found the grounds manager, he told me to call the police to file a report. Someone else brought over some hand tools and rigged up the door. I'm sorta surprised that I was able to get back to sleep.

The police asked if I knew who would have done it, no - I don't really know anybody here. They told me to move - find someplace between 107- and 119 th street - that's where all the new town houses have been built. That I didn't need to fufill the 6 month lease if I said that I feared for my life. I don't think that I could affort those new town houses. I feel sorta funked out.

My appartment has been empty for a while. The grounds manager admitted that he had kicked out some poeple a few times. It's assumed that, well possible that the intruders where just looking for a place to sleep and believed that the place was empty. After entry was gained it would have been easy to realize that someone had moved in. And from what I remember of the 'sounds' that I thought were outside in the hall, they left almost right away. Thankfully they didn't venture into the bedroom. But as they left they took the keys that were in the dead bold.

The grounds manager changed the lock - shored up the door jam (a little), and I put some old gallery card on the door so as to hopefully point out that yes someone was now in the suit.

Honestly I don't want to go back. I feel scared for my safety. And now when people ask for change I give it to them.

The cops suggested that I got a 2 by 4 and brace the door at night. They asked me if I knew that there were people with mental problems in the building when I moved in. '"Well", he said , "it is Edmonton core...."

I don't know what to make of it.