T****
I'm talking with T****, kitchen guy at work. He's mid-50's, looks to be about 40. This is a common thing here I've noticed, it's the lifestyle, not a lot of premature aging, rather more extended longevity...
...and he's telling me about his band, he's been in loads, when he was young he'd get first pick of all the groupies, the girls, always the prettiest, the freshest, let the other band members take the sluts...
...but now his voice trails off and he sounds a bit sad, now, it's just take what you can get, and there's by inference the implication that his girlfriend, I've met her, the current one, is not a first or second draft, no, she's one of the leftovers, and there's not a trace of irony in his voice and somehow it makes me profoundly sad...
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- Category: Conversations
The Burlesque
And, Friday, after the girl's leave, I'm back in town after cleaning up the guest-house to see the burlesque.
It's like the other plays I've seen here - completely WTF, politics, sex, every-other-act out of left field, there's no cohesive whole, but - at the same time - it's great.
It's got the support of the entire community.
I've been to the same event's in Calgary - they tend to draw the same crowds - uniform, kinksters, swingers and wife-swappers, here it's different. It's everyone. And I identify better with everyone than I do with the specialty niche groups. If I'm at a Gay Bar I want the eclectic crowd of straight-gay-kink-confused-etc. Being at a Gay Bar filled with nothing but homosexuals has no appeal whatsoever. This event wins, if only by it's inclusiveness.
The acts, WTF, I make one minute videos of each of the intros, don't record too far, only want to tantalize, send them to the boy to show him what he's missing. He's missing out for sure.
The first few acts, the thicker gals, then the slender ones - there are abundant beauties here, and the acts, varied, comic, sexy, the diverse sizes, the "inclusiveness" - regardless of my own tastes, it makes the event a win-win. And the audience, always the audience, they're supportive in volume and applause like you'd never see in the big city.
This is great. I'm sad the boy couldn't be here.
(waiting for the show to start, the gentleman in the top hat is an audience member dressed up...just in case they need him...)
The show goes, good couple of hours, there's the kinkster's here for sure, there's a woman from yesterday at the hot-springs with the daughter, she was then with her husband and child, today she's here with her black lover (and I watch carefully, yep, I'm not misreading this), but there's everybody else as well. Normal people. Cultivated people. Artistic people. Articulate people. Common people. And herein is the value.
***
The burlesque ends, the bar begins shutting down, it's only 12:30. The doorman(Woman) - A friend of a friend, I buy her a drink, it's all shutting down, we move on, to Finleys - the redneck bar - smoking on the patio - this is good, a hot summers night, on the patio, cigarettes allowed, where else? And we chat.
She's homeless as well. She's a variety of housesitting gigs in town, she takes me to the first - an artist, his studio, furnished with artists shit, inspirational props, I have all of this, not exactly the same but close enough, same-ish-ness, deja-vu, I know him without meeting him. And then to her other place, where she'll sleep, an arts apartment above Baker Street, and, looking around, I know this as well, know the tenant without meeting her by her furnishings and books, we drink, chat, she lifts her shirt, pulls down the side of her trousers to show me her tattoos, offers to let me sleep over - tempting, she marks the invisible line down the bed, but I find her attractive and this invisible line, I won't respect it I know, not sure if that's the point, we've both had a few, but it's better to be cautious and I'll catch up with her again when I've a place of my own...
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- Category: Theatre
The BBI
Short for ...
It's the local pub, never been, want to go, finally with a few friends we hit it. It's the competition to where I work, and - picture every small-town bar you've ever been to, it overlooks an apartment block - same owner - that, while commanding a king's view offers squalor as the viewpoint, in the bright light of summer depressing as all out. The bar, newly furnished, cheaply, pool table, VLT's, the hardened local alcoholics, it's classic, the waitresses, the older, down-on-your-luck sorts, probably living in the housing across the way, the location is paradise, the accommodations, the bar, despair itself, for trifling savings the whole community has to endure what is clearly the "ghetto" of Balfour, where take place the drug overdoses, the thousand miseries of small town life, all beneath a blistering summer sun ...
Drink, chat up the waitress, the classic ditsy older waitress, lovely, you couldn't ask for better caricatures, ride out the summer heat, drink your drink, order another, it's still too early, 8:00 PM on a Friday night, I gotta come back here 'round midnight, 1 AM, see what's up, the town, so tiny, but a pretty big nightlife considering there's only 350 people, there's a band setting up and I'm done, I've eaten, soaked up enough of the ambiance, but I'll be back...
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- Category: Miscellany
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