Thursday, October 13, 2011

The Tracks

Tonight, I'm inspired. Tonight, I realize what friendship means. Tonight, I
understand 30 some years of being misunderstood, misread and misplayed.

I had the chance to walk amongst the ruins of my old childhood traintracks
tonight. The moon had set. Dusk had moved into the neighbourhood. The
wind whistled on its own course. Me and my old pal Steve ascended the
hill that we had climbed over a decade ago and surveyed our lives under the
microscopes of truth and night.

Steve is one of those friends that has been there through thick and thin. Steve
is almost like a character in a book - except he is flesh, blood and pulse. He
is as real as it gets. Steve and I realized that it was a decade ago that we
would, without much aim, walk these tracks from our respective dwellings
and meet up with each other.

Once, when I was 25, I needed to get the fuck out of my parents domain and
walked from Nepean to Bells Corners along the tracks and knocked on Steve's
door. His mom answered and informed me that he was not in and would not be
for the remainder of the night. I had wasted a 40 minute walk. I walked through
the woods behind Bell High School and felt an elevated sense of fear that I had
never experienced before. The darkness and the woods overtook me. My pulse
quickened and my blood thickened.

But I made it out.

Steve and I talked about many things, tonight. We talked about love. We talked
about life. We talked about love and life and things gone missing. We realized
that we'd been stupid. We realized that we are young. We relished all of it.

At one point, I ascended an old train tower and reminisced about many nights
and afternoons spent on that same tower, while pining and whining. Steve
looked up at me from the dark tracks and listened while I spewed diatribes
of faith and philosophy. The air grew colder and the wind grew stronger.

Soon enough, Steve and I meandered back to my parents house. We watched
our shadows among the lights of the Arlington apartment tennis courts.
We felt like giants - old giants.

It's nights like these where time is truly frozen and eternity is graspable.

Friends like Steve are friends that must be cherished, admonished and

Sometimes, you need to go back to the tracks.

Monday, October 03, 2011

Night Walker

Going to school has jump-started some old feelings that have been long
hidden inside of me. For one, I've been walking a lot at night. It seems
that in the last few years, walking at night only ever happened out of
coincidence (i.e. no ride home from the bar, not enough money for a bus
or a cab, running outside to pee, etc.) - Now, I do it out of necessity.

A lot of my classes don't end until after sundown. I've been forced,
therefore, to get back into the night-walking mode.

It is a mode I've missed.

It's sort of like the re-opening of the wardrobe by the children of
Narnia or Robin Williams in Hook remembering how to fly. It's a bit
of a magical, ethereal and enchanting experience to walk at night.
Distractions are few. The air smells alive. Streetlights do their best to
cast you their glow but most of the time, you find your own way out
of shapes and shadows.

Rainy nights are even better (if you have the gear).

Tonight, I walked home in a mist that seemed to be lightly spraying
me from all directions. It refreshed me with each step and left a
clean taste on my lips and mustache. The grass had a little more
give than usual and I felt renewed.

I've been doing a lot of thinking on my nightwalks. I've been clearing
out the mental cobwebs and hearing bolts clang and click back into
place as the mill of my mind churns.

I'm getting back to myself and at the same time, I'm changing completely.

I'm seeing the cyclical nature of it all.

Pretty soon, October will be a memory - and we all know what's next.

'Deep into winter, we all must go'.

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