What We Survive
Picture of me and John Hood outside the Motel St. Jacques. Went up the road to Montreal for the funeral of my dear friend Sean Keane in December. Was supposed to go Washington D.C. that weekend, to celebrate a year of working on an American Civil War project (way to louse up my vcay Sean!). Many old friends filled the back pews of St. Ignatius for the Rite of Christian Burial. Sean had a faith, a magical way of getting through life. The presiding priest mentioned Sean’s comedy and somehow worked in a moral angle. After the mass, some of us went to a burger joint on Westminster , laughed about old times and got caught up. My home town. Hung around NDG and saw ghosts everywhere. Visited my old high school, the back where I used to smoke joints and wish no one would find me out, discover the twisted mental case lurking under the glazed eyes and cute smile. Imagined my former self 35 years ago, going up to that kid and saying .. not...