come, mr. sketchy man, pick me up. bring me into sudbury with those burns on your arms, barely say a word but for mine language - you here for your whole life knowing nothing more. sketchy bill, save me from bigot mike, who speaks ill of his doctor wife and immigrants, and natives who "rob him of his culture". save me from his ignorant bull-shit. save me from him who left me without a blink on the side of the highway, fifteen km outside of sudbury's city limits, the ten minutes being too much of his valuable time to waste (value in this case meaning time spent idling or wasting money on his toy material things, his motorcycles never ridden). that ride meant a lot to me, but not the one who gave it. i'd be happy to never think on today's rides again. on thursday i will take the bus to north bay. i will hitch as little as possible on this next stretch. i will take the hit, get back on the greyhound, hate it, hate much of this, but revel all i can in seeing old friends.
and they are just around the corner, i know it. and i wait for them, more patient than i ever want to be. and that is the point, i think, when you know you are not living up to your own conditions, when you are over-patient. you cannot feel proud of such patience - you can only feel a victim of it.
i complain, and yet things have worked out better than they might have. i made it in to town, i have a place to sleep (though it be below a bar, in the smell). sometimes i want people to see me now - those who want to say "i knew him when" - i want them to see how irrelevant i am, how the talent they estimate to be so extraordinary creates so little effect. am i cursed or am i blessed? i want my life to be stabler than it is. i want to make a living, but i may need to be much better than i am to do that. (last night I heard Colin James on the radio, talking about his latest album, full of common names and legends, and i think i cannot play guitar like that, or sing like that, so who, really, do i rank with, and is that rank too low to dare call myself a singer or a song-writer, or anything having to do with music?) i am faced with a measurement of my talent, and i find myself doubting, despite what various people have said. i find myself cautious, making back-up plans.