Monthly Archives: January 2017

Canada’s Soul: Whitehorse to Vancouver

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I took a bus up to Whitehorse, Yukon. (I didn’t hitchhike because I was scared of being left in the middle of nowhere and getting eaten by a bear.)

July 20: A 24-hour delay seems possible due to the massive bridge washouts – sounds interesting, doesn’t it? Throughout the journey, women – making up the majority of the population – sleep, smoke and drink without complaint. So I’ll smoke my way to sleep.

The silhouettes of the great mountains dominate the scenery. A dark black storm cloud approaches; hell is bound to break loose. The trees await in silence as the silver bus rushes on.July 22: I hiked alone up Grey Mountain, on the outskirts of Whitehorse, and wrote at the top: Humanity – a definition. Impossible. It is so assorted. There are some with no legs, some with no eyes – mentally and physically – and some with no heart. Some cloud their eyes with darkened glasses and some wear not what they need but what others say. (It goes on.)

July 24: I took a 26-hour bus ride down to Vancouver. Graffiti on Pink Mountain Inn: #1: Why did God give seagulls wings? So that they’d be able to beat the Indians to the dump. #2 Toking is like working here. The harder you suck, the higher you get.

Arrived in Vancouver where I stayed at the hostel for five days and saw Peter Gabriel and David Bowie and the newly-opened BC Place Stadium.

Dreams of You

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I was walking down the sidewalk with friends and saw you, sitting behind a large plate glass window. You were wrapped in a large blanket and smiling. I waved and you waved back. I continued on, wishing to leave you in peace, but thought again and came back around. I went up the steps and gave my name. It appears you were staying in a hospice of some kind. I went down the narrow halls, through the darkness, and sat with you. Your face was black and blue, and you spoke animatedly of hearing death, something your father had taught you. It was an intense moment, desperate and close. And then you told me you could not eat sweets and crawled across the floor and produced a specialized beer that fermented in your glass. I drank a can of Budweiser. And then many of others were there, banging on the plate glass window. Someone tore up a tree and wielded it like a toy, and I yelled at him for that. But I didn’t know him. And then I was on to something else.