onal ee oS Le : Planetofthe Arts vol.3no.5 March 1988 Little Victories I can tell myself I’m winning in my little room I’m master of my fate, But I stand up straight put my boots and coat on and know its all a lie primp and preen in the mirror I can see it in my eyes, and I’ll stay inside again today hope my situation will change and problems go away : with dreams, and little victories over myself g Bice following michael | want to go to India, UIAON YEH thread the last thread is always the hardest to cut it is the difference between here and there the now and eternity and all I want to do is just hold her hand one more time I carry my talismans for her protection and realize the last thread was sewed into my flesh and cutting is not necessary the last thread is mine Jerry Stochansky to float through the swamps in the North past the weeping trees where the storks and wide wing heron live their screech operatic thrust long long beaks towards and at right angles to one another. Sex and death so pointed and so close. | want to go to India where white wrapped men roll harmless and harmed through city streets It Might Have Been Sunday This is the most important decision of my life. I’m not sure what day it is but | know it’s June and it’s 6:40 a.m. I’ve got twenty minutes. I’m sitting at a desk in my room ina logging camp on a barge in a bay in an inlet on the coast of British Columbia some- where. . I’m a blaster by trade and | build logging roads. It’s been a lucrative job for about eight years now. The average person lends a lot of mystique and danger and glamour to the work, but in fact it’s much more danger- ous to walk across Broadway at noon. And as far as mystery goes, well, | may have secretly encouraged their ignorance. But to be honest it’s a dirty job. The point is that something happened yesterday to change my idea of reality. I’ve had a lot of close calls blasting and believe me I’ve felt like a dog shitting razor blades on several occasions. But I'd prefer to call these instances calculated risks. In fact there were times | thought I’d won the lottery of life. Until yesterday, when | actually did. And this is how it happened. It was the end of the day and | had to sandblast a boulder that was too big for our machines to move. It was no different from hundreds of others I’d done; the explosives are detonated in the open, usually on top of the piece to be broken, and the force of the concussion is what does the damage. The most common safety precaution is to use a five-minute fuse and be as far away as possible when it goes bang. Well this time for some crazy reason | sent my partner to guard the road while | stayed nearby to watch the effect. | stood about sixty feet away, sort of behind a big cedar. | wasn’t afraid of anything flying towards me, and | carefully checked the limbs above me for widowmakers. | was unusually calm. It was the thirtieth straight day I had been working. Anyway, as usual the explosion sur- prised me and the concussion hit instantly. Like something reached into the middle of me and pulled. But much more incredible was the impact of what | saw happening. The air was moving and so was everything else. The six foot cedar trunk in front of me was shaking like a leaf and as my mind grappled with the Illusion, | realized that my body was quite still. Everything else had lost solidity and for about ten seconds which seemed like minutes | saw what mystics must have meant by the Gates of Heaven. An incredible web of light interconnecting everything around me, including me, forming what looked like an arch. | finally managed a couple of steps towards it and had time to see a very alien landscape with a very familiar-looking person standing in the opening, gesturing to me. With an endless shimmer it all returned to normal. And I stood there like waking from a dream with my eyes blasted open as the dust and bits of flora were still settling around me. In those few seconds I had forgotten everything | -knew and it wasn’t until | heard my partner calling me, minutes later, that I actually realized | was still standing there. Every sound was so acute that I could see it clearly and the brilliant color of light and shadow around me so crisp | could hear it. | was absorbed in this experience and it took me a moment to collect myself and respond. “Ya! What! Pretty bloody loud eh! “| heard myself saying and noticed we were walking back to the pick-up. Only part of me going through the motions while my mind kept recreating that scene; the light, the way everything transformed, the incredible trueness to it all and the deja-vu of seeing whoever the hell it was. | avoided all the usual routines last night after dinner and lay on my bed trying to understand why I was so affected; it feels bloody weird. | am so wide awake it’s scary and I'll be damned if I can help myself. The only thing I can think of is how to make it i: reoccur. Tom Chartrand while onlookers pray follow mourn for him, for he is close to god, he is close to death. Kika Thorne .,. Strain., . 13 Planetofthe Arts vol.3no.5 March 1988 It Might Have Been Sunday ind it's 6:40 a.m. I've got twenty ‘m sitting at a desk in my room Ina logging camp on a barge ina bay in an iniet, ‘coast of British Columbia some- {'m a blaster by trade and | bulld logging roads. It's been a lucrative job for about ‘eight yoars now. The average person lends a Jot of mystique and danger and glamour to the work, but in fact it's much more dangor- 18 to walk across Broadway at noon. And as far as mystery goes, well, may have yesterday to change my Idea of reality. had a lot of close calls blasting and bol ime I've felt like a dog shitting razor blades fn several oceasions. But I'd profer to call snoes calculated risks. In fact, times | thought I'd won the lottery intl yesterday, when | actually did. for some crazy reason | ‘sont my partner to guard the road while | stayed nearby to watch the effect. | stood about sixty feet away, sort of behind a big cedar. I wasn't afrald of anything flying towards mo, and | carefully checked the limbs above me for widowmakers. | was ‘unusually calm. twas the thirtieth straight day |had been working. ‘Anyway, as usual the explosion sur prised me and the concussion hit inst Like something reached into the 1d pulled. But much more inc impact of what I saw happening. The ‘alr was moving and so was everything eise. ix foot cedar trunk in front of me was shaking like a leaf and as my mind grappled with the tusion, realized that my Body was 5 Foes ie ulte stil. Everything else had lost solidity Little Victories ured {ind for about ten seconds which seemed like minutos | saw what mystics must have the last thread is always the eee, the cates ot Hesees an ene saat coe ‘of light interconnecting everything I can tell myself I'm winning hardest i eprareor chert in my little room I’m master of my fate, wg cue looked like an arch. I finally managed a = it is the difference between couple of steps towards it and had time to But I stand up straight eee Seo a very allen landecape witha very famila-iooklng person standing In the put my boots and coat on the now and eternity ‘opening, gesturing to me. With an endless. and all I want to do ‘shimmer it all returned to normal. And | and know its all a lie ‘stood there like waking from a dream with is just hold her hand : : : imy eyes Uasted open a the dust and tits of primp and preen in the mirror one more time flora were sl setting around me. In those Ican see it in my eyes, I carry my talismans Krew and t vast unt Reedy posta and I'll stay inside again today eee sae nen, and realize ing thar. Every seem Sound was so acute that ould see t Pa 2 a will change thes thea Shenyang and was sew cet criep (could hea , and problems go away aS twas absorbed inthis experiance and tock with dreams, erie rm al What Prattybocay lu ent dreams, — and eurtin “at What! Pretty, ont and little victories over myse! is not necessa eard myself saying and noticed we were id lie self 3h eoRe Gas walking oI atin T. the lst thread golng through the motions while hy mind is mine kept recreating that scene; the light, the way_ Seine everything raetorned te incrocole ry Stochansky {Tries fo hall and tn dle of soning following michael whoever tt Mt it was, Tavolded all the usual routines last ight after diner and lay on my bed tying I want to go to India, Berne envvas we, ee to float through the swamps in the North andT'lbe damned ift ean help mysol.The. past the weeping trees where the storks and wide wing heron —_Phiy.thing !ean think ofis how to make it live their screech operatic thrust long long beaks towards and at right angles to one another. Sex and death so pointed and so close. Tom Chartrand 1 want to go to India where white wrapped men roll harmless and harmed through city streets while onlookers pray follow mourn for him, for he is close to god, he is close to death. Kika Thorne 13