April 18, 1994

Kevin's version:
"Selene and I met at Shaw Gardens last summer (1993) at a picnic in the Japanese part. We both reached for the potato salad at the same time. When our fingers touched and our eyes met, well, the rest is history."

My version:
I've got no idea where Kevin came up with a story of such obvious fiction.

We really met when Kevin stopped me to compliment the way I had read a piece of his free verse in class. He then recited my piece, brought me a collection of Czechoslovakian poems to mull over, and the rest of that, my dear friend Kevin, is history.

After knowing Kevin through my writing class, which, by the way, was under the direction of the infamous Frederick Rissover, I met him at Mokabe's one evening. He nearly forced me to get up and read something at the microphone. I admired his power (laugh) right away. There has always been a reserved, serious Kevin who pushes no one in any direction. And although he speaks softly and carries no stick at all, he is able to influence people and be the focal point in any room. he would rather not be, but when he doesn't worry about it (and perhaps he's red-arsed as well) nothing can take the spotlight away from him.

From the base of our mutual respect for one another as poets/short story writers/philosophers, Kevin solidified his hate for me. He feels total indifference to everyone in the world. I feel that it's a compliment for him to feel such anegative endearing emotion for me. But all of that comes later. Just read on and see.

By the way, if any of Kevin's fantastic life events stike you as impossible then don't believe them. I'm just writing down what I've been told; and I believe it all, too.

As Kevin says, it's interestingly terrible and breezy-dreamy all at once.

At one point in his life Kevin decided to make a commitment. He travelled halfway around the world with nothing but a gift in his hand and the heartfelt proposal on his lips.

She reportedly replied something like, "I don't understand what you mean?" and Kevin promptly went back home. Even after nearly a year he hasn't forgotten about her. The whole thing may be more painful today than ever before.

Note:
Kevin imitated her response in a high-pitched Irish/Scottish accent which I'm sure sounded just like Ms. Knucklehead.
He never did tell me her real name.

Yyikkeess!!!

From the time he was born up until about second grade, Kevin didn't say a word. His parents, being a bit crazy themselves, thought he had a learning disorder.

In reality, Kevin just didn't feel like talking to anyone. Whenever someone tried to communicate with him he only stared. He would take orders from teachers and the like but he never talked to them.

Kevin told me that in reality, he didn't have anything interesting to say. He held his tongue instead of ending up sounding foolish for the absurd things he could have said. Once he did begin to talk (around eight years old) he almost never stopped.

Kevin's parents were crazy and perhaps still are, but he hasn't seen nor heard from them in ages, so he says. The McGue folks were the kind of crazy that made them think everyone else was crazy. They thought Kevin was nuts so they stuck him in an insame asylum around the time of his sixteenth Birthday.

Kevin remembers the whole incident very well. He remembers that just before his sixteenth Birthday he was taken to the hospital. He was placed on some sort of medicine, twice the normal dosage, and he always spit it out. kevin's theory on that is that if he doesn't know what he's taking or why then he won't swallow it. After swiping about thirty-six latex surgical gloves and without a plan at all Kevin managed to escape.

His partner in crime came to visit Kevin for his Birthday and told the nurse at the front desk that he was bringing a cake. Guests had to buzz up to the rooms (cells) via the front desk nurse. The accomplice asked the nurse if he could bring some presents in for Kevin, seeing as it was his Birthday and all. The nurse decided that was alright and let the friend into Kevin's room. Kevin had alredy stuffed the bed with the blown up latex gloves to give the appearance that he was sleeping. Kevin's friend called up to the desk after a few minutes and said that he would be leaving to get the gifts out of his car and he would be right back. Kevin put on his friend's trench coat over the hospital clothes and simply walked out of the building with nothing more than a wave to the nurse at the front desk. He found the getaway car in the parking lot and climbed into the trunk, leaving the keys on the front seat.

Meanwhile, Kevin's friend casually walked out of the building, too. The front desk nurse said, "Hey! Didn't you just leave a minute ago?" and his friend replied, "No, of course not silly! I'm going to get the gifts right now." A search began almost immediately, but even at the front gate where guards were checking departing cars for Kevin McGue's body, he was not found. Kevin's friend simply drove away in peace saying that he hadn't seen Kevin in hours.

So Kevin escaped from the nut house and began living on his own. His parents found out about the escape but didn't bother trying to send him back.

Later on, months after I was first told this story, Kevin made an addition to the story:
"Did I forget to mention that we killed a guard?", he asked me. I thought surely he was joking, but he so adamantly insisted that it was true that I had no choice but to believe him.
Then he said: "oh, and the part about running through the parking lot, being pursued by a screaming mob of irate orderlies and nurses. Did I tell you about that?" Kevin asked with a smile. I told him he had forgotten that as well.
"That's right. They were chasing me and suddenly I turned and held up a package of mints and shouted 'Mentos! The freshmaker!' and they stopped dead in their tracks. They stayed standing there while I escaped, completely stunned."
I believe that part, too. It's simply splendid.

I am stretched on your grave
and will ie here forever
If your hand were in mine
I'd be sure we'd not sever
My apple tree my brightness
It's time we were together
For I smell of the earth
And I'm worn by the weather

When my famiy thinks
That I'm safe in my bed
From night until morning
I am stretched at your head
Calling out to the air
With tears hot and wild
My grief for the girl
That I loved as a child

Do you remember
The night we were lost
In the shade of the black thorn
And the chill of the frost
Thanks be to Jesus
We did what was right
And your maidenhead still
Is your pillar of light

The priest and the friars
Approach me in dread
Because I still loe you,
My love, and you're dead
I still would be your shelter
Through rain and through storm
And with you in a cold grave
I can not sleep warm

So I'm stretched on your grave
And will lie here forever
If your hand were in mine
I'd be sure we'd not sever
My apple tree, my brightness
It's time we were together
For I smell of the earth
And I'm worn by the weather

1949

Once I was invited to a gathering/barbeue/Japanese film festival/import fest/fortune telling/jam session thingy at the house of a friend of Kevin's. Even before Kevin got there I met a few people who knew him and talked a bit about him. They all said relatively the same thing about Kevin when I mentioned him; he's a wacky guy! I met Kevin's friends Paul and Dave and a guy who's name has left me. They all seemed crazy but with a good handle on it.

Before I ever attended one of these events I was told stories of how the 'worship services' usually go. There is a lot of drinking, a lot of rabble rousing, and many, many illicit drugs. Kevin told me of this one party he had where he and three of his friends were electrocuted in his bathtub. I didn't believe this at first, but then again, I had only just met Kevin when this story popped out. he also recalled the time when he was dancing on the roof of his apartment building with friends, half naked, singing, and almost falling off the edge. While this was going on, a friend was lying unconscious on the grass below with a steady stream of vomit flowing from his mouth.

The party I attended was not nearly as strange but equally as liquored. We partook of a keg of Killian's Red Ale and there were large amounts of pot and opium being consumed in the back bedroom. Kevin was being bid on by some Flemmish girls and I was reacquainting myself with an old high school chum. I observed that as Kevin became more and more inebriated he also stopped being so indifferent to everyone. He turned into the happy, loving drunk who hugs everyone and hangs on everyone's shoulders.