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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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A charming chef at the restaurant, one of those people that you instantly like, always smiling - and composed - generally, which for a chef is rare.
And talking during his brief tenure in hell - what brought him here, about him in general, in specific. Some girl he'd known from high-school, a long time ago, he'd heard she'd moved out here, to the valley, wanted to set things right with her...
I'm a sucker for a good romance and this touched me. At first I'd thought he was gay, so this confused me a bit, but I take people at their word, and this is one of my great failings.
Later it comes out that he is - and I'm curious, I ask how he was intending to set things right with his girlfriend, old girlfriend, but - he had a plan, suffice it to say he wasn't about to straighten himself out for her or go monogamous.
He was made for this area.
Now he's a vegetarian, doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, seldom does drugs, which for the region, the province, is a bit of an anomaly, sobriety in any form out here is rarer than Unicorns or Leprechauns. A lot rarer.
And so I'm grilling him about this - given the neighborhood it's a bit of an anomaly...
He'd had an epiphany, at Shambala a few years before, 1 too many tabs of acid...became a vegetarian, vegan, secluded himself on an island for 10 days to stop smoking, drinking, lost 150 lbs in weight, got his shit together. Got his shit together.
One of the more interesting life stories I've heard, I'm always intrigued by these stories of sudden transformation, thunderbolts, wisdom tossed from the gods, the opening of spirit...
I'm still waiting for mine. Maybe - before things get too dire here, time to break out a few treats and wait for the clouds to part...it's not the place, not by a long shot, that I'd choose to be, but Moses and Jesus both went to the desert and Calgary, after it's fashion, is a desert...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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The July one, After this, 2 to go... the season should be kicking off. A new waitress has started, no experience, but great with drawing a happy face and writing a little personal message on each bill.
Americans, dickering with me on the exchange rate, I'm offering 25%, I'm the only guy in the Kootenay's other than the Currency exchange that even does an exchange rate, everyone else takes it at par, yet they're arguing, say they can get better in town and I'm thinking where - where in the USA can I go and have them accept Canadian Currency? And if they did, and I had the audacity to dicker over the exchange rate I'd probably be shot. Justly so. But this is the entitled American abroad, most are pleasant, but there's always a few...
And then there's the Plants. Older couple, always good for a toonie no matter how large the bill, and I've drawn the short straw, they're my table. I'm like Jesus on the fucking cross, taking all the hits so the new girl doesn't quit. They're in with guests, another couple, and - fortunately, a rare thing, the guests grab the bill. 20%. Phew, dodged a bullet there. And just as I'm celebrating my good fortune the other lady comes up and presses another $40 in my hand - I assure her, her husband tipped me well, but she'll have none of it - she tells me in a low voice "We know how they tip...".
And summer's officially started.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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Sorry, I wasn't expecting your email and I'd done a trivial amount of 'shrooms before going out and caught it just as I was leaving.
"Surprise!!!!!"
Yeah, you fucking get it I know, I know, but you get it I was a little surprised as well. Thought I was getting away with murder, although - you know, if you think about it - if you remember me correctly - that wasn't my point.
I read about your dad, I'm sorry, he was nice, he was decent, and he wanted the best for you.
I hope you are well.
Wake Up.
Be kind. I don't care about what you think - or worry - I might. The last I saw of you - the last, other than Nick Cave, the Art Store, the last I saw of you where there was any meaningful exchange was that night when I met Johnny. Yeah, laugh, fuck, you gotta laugh, how long ago?
I hope you two are happy. No shit, really, I do, it's none of my business and I want the best for you and whoever. And I don't think you get it but when I imagined my own happiness in your arms - well - it was a separate place from where he - or anyone else - is now. Was it ever. If you think about it you'll understand. Or I can send you some 'shrooms.
Wake Up...
I loved you. Man, oh how, did I fucking love you, and if I lived ten thousand years I wouldn't have tired of showing you. But you know. You know. Time passes, people change.
You've changed and grown I imagine. There's scant online, you know I search from time to time. And me - ? I dunno. I know you find me in my scattered and disregarded thoughts, the noise, the cast offs, that is my blog. And the rest? I don't know. I've grown over and healed, grown independent to a fault, grown, grown, maybe like cancer or not and that blog - that blog I started so fucking long ago because of you, it's growing as well, like that monstrous child that you need to behead, that you need to kill, that you need....
but that's it's purpose, the graveyard of unrequited thoughts. Really, I should post this on it, you'd read it I know. But I'll send it to you.
You have my address, it's been a long time. I look forward to hearing from you. Send me no trivial thoughts.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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The schedule, it changes 3 times a week. I check it every time I go in. The shifts, they're covered by people I've never met, my days off hinge on people who've been hired sight unseen showing up to do the job, and so far we're not doing so good. #1, no experience serving, we try to train her but this is not the place to cut your teeth. Another server, come with her chef boyfriend from Ontario, they show up for 3 days then contrive a family emergency, disappear. Another couple, chef and server, show up to replace them, work 3 days and then do a midnight move, they don't even have a car, got out of there with their luggage and their thumbs. Half the people on the schedule I've never met, never meet, or cross paths with only briefly, and my every day off depends upon them...
7 weeks of summer to go, weather it all until the September long weekend and I can get back to my own devices...