Welcome to Coriolistic Anachronisms

« It was a moonlit night, in old Mexico... Suddenly, I heard the plaintive cry of a young Mexican girl. La, la-laaaaaaa… » Ok, there was no moon, and it was old Vancouver, not old Mexico, but… The song, for some odd reason, rang into my ears, and I had to quote it.

Having just walked out of the Kingston pub, smoother by about 5 pints of Heffeweisen beer, I had walked straight to the Waves coffee shop on Pender, knowing it would be open 24 hours. So what, if it was past midnight? The city lives on much later than that…

At Kingston, I’d had to deal with the overwhelming feeling of being home, after Shawn had treated me with a beer, « This one’s on me, Vince », l’air de rien, making me feel like I belonged, like I was welcome there. And I knew I was, too, that’s the worse part of it.

So why does one feel an urge to move away from the greatest place on Earth? I guess it has to do with the pain inside, the pain which drives one to keep moving, forever wandering, never home. Never safe.

Yesterday, last week, last month, last year, I was sitting at the Iggy, greatest bar on the planet, in a remote corner of the Cayman Islands, seeking relief from the pain in a pint of Sting Ray, the local brew on tap. Today it’s Heffeweisen on tap at the Kingston pub. At the Kingston where everything started and everything ended.

So I now I’m writing from Waves late at night, homeless shelter, wireless shelter.

Vancouver has me by the… Love it to death, but death won’t solve anything. Chimeras remain, and they don’t know geography.

Deal with us, they warn me, wherever you are. Or be stuck forever. Stuck in limbo, between two worlds. Between what has been and what could be. ‘Cause you could be in the most awesome place on Earth - and you probably are; if you haven’t dealt with us, you’re food for worms. You won’t make it. The only thing that matters is this: grow up or loose the race. But winning the race, you can do that anywhere, no need to be somewhere special. Because you only win against yourself. No stadium, no track, no crowd to watch you run. You win or loose in the intimacy of your own mind, of your very heart. And there is no cheating, no shortcut. Only you will know what you’ve achieved, or wasted. Only you will cross the finish line. But when you do, the sun will shine, curtains will be lifted and horizons drawn. A fourth dimension will be created, one where everything is possible and loneliness impossible. One where you are a king, ruling over a gentle people, without a crown, and without power. Only yourself will you own and only yourself will you serve. A kingdom based on beauty and sharing, on selfless triumph of the soul over ego. Tempted? We’ll see you there.

You’ve gotta love your chimeras.