JOURNALJuly 21 I believe, I honestly believe that if don't leave any stains in your underwear by the end of the day then you aren't living an exciting enough life.
Take this morning for an example...
Dino is an old man, an insane alcoholic man, a fisherman with grizzled white hair. He is skinny enough to slink through thick cat-tails by the grassy shore lines. He is skilled with rod and reel and fly rod and he ties his own flies. He is my kinda guy.
I met him the night before at a gathering of the boys. We got around to talking about fishing and when I mentioned that I haven't done much fly fishing Dino volunteered to take me out sometime.
Some time came at 4:30 a.m. Dino woke up drunk and determined to do some fishing. He roared over and woke me up, lent me a fly-rod and gear..."I got all the bases covered boy..." and dragged me to his pick-up truck and made a pit stop to his bootlegger and we were out of town by 5 a.m.
Dino had to pull over to throw up in the ditch, but in a second he was back in the truck, gargled a shot of Canadian Club and cracked open another beer and drove off. I didn't know where he was taking me and it didn't look like he knew either. He took the wrong grid road and another and more but finally he found the spot.
He didn't know the name of the lake and called it Upper and Lower Pond or Two Pond lake. I know how to tie a fly and cast but he had to show me anyhow. His way. Just to be sure he said.
He instructed me to walk down to the lower pond and gave me all my gear and a six pack of Canadian beer for breakfast. I had to walk down a gravel road and crawl through a barb wire fence and then cross a stubbled field one hundred yards long and through some trees to find my pond.
I almost made it to the pond when a big Brahma bull cleared the bushes and stormed towards me.
I dropped my gear, through my beer in the pond and jumped in after it. The water was frigid. James Joyce once described the seas as scrotumshrinking and when you jump in water that cold you know what he means. The bull broke off his charge and stared after me.
He didn't move. I didn't move. For almost a half an hour. Finally he strode off. I inched towards the bank, snatched up my six pack and tip toed towards the road. But then I realized I had to go back for my gear.
I was halfway up back when the bull spotted me. He charged again and I ran. I was the fastest Indian runner in the whole world. I through my fly rod and tackle box over the fence and jumped over. The bull was capable of jumping over the fence but he broke off before he got there.
I walked up to the upper pond. Dino was sleeping in the grass. I fished for three hours, caught five lake trout, threw them back, kept one for my breakfast. I was cooking in the back of the cook when Dino returned. "Any luck" I asked
"Oh yeah, always" Fishermen always lie. always. I didn't tell him about the bull.
"You should try the lower pond" I said.
STAIN REPORT: A strip of hershey highway and green algae.
July 23 Regina is a town where it is difficult to be alone. I love solitude I need it. I crave it. My only excuse to be alone is to go to the University of Regina and hang out at the library, sip coffee in the lab building and scope out the young chicks walking by...
There are times in my life when picking up women is easy and natural. Most of the time, my powers of articulation and charming eloquence is rendered impotent by the sheer overwhelming beauty and intelligence of women...I can be bowled over by the simple flash of naked thigh marching along the hallway...aw heck...I can be aroused by the click of high-heels in the distant...I don't have to see who is wearing them...only hear them.
I met Marie twice today. Once at the University where she is taking some classes. "Call me when you have no class", I said... and again at the Exhibition, Regina's city fair...midway rides, petting zoos, shysters, shucksters, carnival barkers, the whole enchilada. I hardly recognized her and when I did, I couldn't remember from where.
She told me we met in Lake Louise and Banff. I couldn't remember if I boinked her or not. There weren't too many native girls in Banff and I tried to bed them all but I wasn't sure about Marie. I thought I had better make her while I had the chance. Just in case...
I abandoned the friends I was with and kidnapped her for a night of frivolity. I took her on rides where she would have to press against me. I held her hand. I took her dancing. I bought her a flower. I told her I loved her. I said let's get a room and boink our brains out. STAIN REPORT: Oh just the usual stains related to heavy sexual activity. p>
July 25 STAIN REPORT: No stains today. I have the most boring life ever. It's depressing. It's not me though. It's Regina because this town is the most boring town in the whole world.
I want the kind of life where in the days of leaves when I am sprawled out on my death bed I can lie back into the pillow and sigh, "That sure was some kinda fun. Let's go 'round again..." Live fast, die young, leave a big stain. That's my philosophy.
I hate sleeping. I'm going to the casino. It's open late every night of the week.
July 27 The stain report smacks of intellectual boredom...the same malaise I suffered as a first year university student when I fancied myself an academic badboy, sold dope on the side, partied all night and whenever I disagreed with the prof let out a resounding fart, belted it right out of the ballpark, snapped chalk in mid-air...PULL!
But imagine if you will, anyone checking their shorts at the end of the day to see what kind of day they had...how absurd! Besides, there are only so many stains the lower body can produce, only so many orifices from which to cast dispersion...so to speak. The second coming of scratch and sniff literature.
There are better ways to guage your carpe diem RDA...
You know you have lived life to the fullest when your head hits the pillow and your bloodshot eyes have no time to register the colour of paint on the ceiling before you are unconscious...
