Friday, October 29, 2010

Table for two

I have always been skeptical of people. Always assumed that they were hiding something, pretending to be someone or distracting from what they actually are. Working in business that is hospitality is a constant reminder of the fact that nothing is what it seems. The typical restaurant is just a smaller version of all of those escapes created and beautifully marketed by Disney.

The seats, the floor plan, the characters and costumes. The way the lights hit certain areas and cast showdows on others. The first person you see, the last person you remember talking to. It's all part of the beautiful veneer of dining out.

Expensive wine, pretty girls, and steak with all the trimmings. Comfortable chairs, forgiving lighting and a font that makes you think you understand what the menu is offering. The bartenders pretend to give a damn about who you are waiting for, what you are going through and your idea of the perfect cocktail. The hostess pretends that she cares about where you want to sit, who is joining the party soon and that you'd rather 'hold on' to your jacket; not check it.

Your waiter hates you. Trust me. You can make friends with them, tell them that they remind them of your son/nephew/grandchild... it doesn't matter. They know what you are here for, and you are just buttering them up. Thankfully, this approach goes both ways. I let you believe I am the least bit concerned about your fake allergies when I know you are just watching your weight and making a bigger deal about it. I play along with the fact that you are your fourth highball, bottle of shiraz on the way... after all, you deserve it. I allow you to think I am actually taking care of you, when we both know it's an illusion. I put my two cents in, and expect twenty percent in return.

Monday, October 25, 2010

the thirty minutes before work

I could run another bath, i could smoke a few more cigarettes. I could listen to more sad music, I could find myself in an emily haines ballad. I could call you, and wait for you to answer, knowing you probably wont. I could do another load of laundry, I could start writing you another letter; only to throw it in the pile of the others left unsent. I could call my mother, but I don't want to hear about another failed relationship. I could finally start to cry, but my eyes would be red and puffy on the bus. I could do some banking, but I know there is nowhere I want to put my money right now. I could look for a new place to live, but I don't know who I am anymore, or where I'd want to be. I could pretend that I am doing 'fine'... and trick everyone else into believing it too. I can distract and dismay with my humour, interject with some witty quip about something. I can make sure my hair looks presentable, I could try to figure out why I am in need of so much caffiene just to get through the day, why I am a zombie stummbling to the coffee pot..... back and forth, back and forth... waiting for the telephone to ring... it won't.

after a year like this one

After a year like this one
I'm surprised I do not hate your guts
And after a year like this one
I'm surprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
I'm surprised I did not eat my young
After a year like this one
I'm sorry if I'm not cordial to everyone
After a year like this one
I'm surprised I'm convinced at all
And after a year like this one
I do not roll my eyes at the synagogue
After a year like this one
I can't help but wonder how they've been
And after a year like this one
I think I'll lease it all to my next of kin
After a year like this one
I'm surprised we're not all bleeping drunks
And after I realized this one
I want you to choose the restaurant
And after a year like this one
I'll need a good whole sixteen months alone
After a year like this one
I think I'll make the west coast beaches my new home

Tuesday, October 19, 2010


I didn't want it to be over, but I knew it was. The sound of his voice, the smell of his skin, late night adventures around the neighbourhood, moments by candlelight had all been halted.

Maybe I will someday find someone who appreciates my desire to build a life together, who won't bounce at the sign of trouble and understand the basic foundation of a relationship, and it kills me that this person isn't you. A resident of reality who understands the power of emotions and knows what meeting halfway means. Perhaps, one day you will be able to reintroduce yourself. Maybe you will become a tax paying, vote casting member of society who says "hello" to passersby on a sunny afternoon stroll. Good luck with your studies, don't give up on that too. Take your time with your baby steps, just don't be surprised when it feels impossible to "catch up" on other things.

Sometimes, it just is.

I'll miss ya mister.

Monday, October 11, 2010

turkey day reflections

I didn't have the usual turkey dinner this year. Though, on the drive back to my place with my mother, an exhausted positive outlook and a deli chicken I thought it was just as good. The separation on the parental units is still something chipping away at me when I stop worrying about something else.

Every one's away for the weekend;the artist is up north visiting family and the starlet is spending the long weekend on the island with her kid sister. Mr Brooks returns from Peru tomorrow at some point, and the boyfriend, well it's hard to really know where he is.

Distance has a funny way of showing up when I least need it.

I have started looking around at apartments back down in the core, excited to once again start fresh. Three years in this house, and I had a lot to be thankful for. The parties, all of them. Hollywood, Studio 54, Hero's & Villains, and the Emergency Room. The various roommates with handfuls of compassion, hilarity and annoyances. All of the big family dinners, with a sense of purpose and expression. The late night bottles of wine and a joint. The moonlit adventures in the surrounding playground. All of it... all of these things. It was an era, but I am ready to slow it down, back to the fundamentals for me.

Still, I would have fancied a piece of homemade pumpkin pie.