You got that “Calgary Suck”
That’s what I heard at a kegger last night and instantly became jealous. I like the west and its funny rivalries; everyone is always visiting each others cities and teasing their occupants. People say “You’re so Alberta” or they recite entire rosters of football teams from memory. I’d like that sort of situation myself, a demented sort of camaraderie based on locality. I’d tell Montrealers to lick my sack but they’d spend half an hour trying to decide on a wine to go with it.
I tried walking to Regina last night. I think I was abducted by aliens the night before and was pissed not only at the six hour gap in my memory but the experiments that were performed on my unwilling body. So in an effort to exert sovereignty over my own life I went out to master my surroundings. With so many variables out of my control influencing my life, I felt that this was the best way to combat that. So armed only with a bottle of vodka I headed out into the wild. I crossed endless expanses of land that looked like the surface of the moon. I carved an indiscriminate path across a hostile terrain where the city had turned up the surrounding earth just beyond its limits. The ground gave up its soul in preparation for the rapidly expanding suburbs, natural gas wheezed beneath my feet as the earth exhaled its frustration.
Once clear of the city and its lights just specks in the distance I sunk to my knees and plunged my hands into the dirt. I torn fistfuls of earth from the ground, grass roots snapping as I raised my tiny fists to heaven. It buried beneath my fingernails, and sunk into every ridge and crevice of my hand. I shook it violently and the breeze carried it off into the darkness. I thought what better way to exhibit mastery over my surroundings, to show absolute domination over something then to eat it. I swallowed mouthful after mouthful of delicious fuck you to anyone who ever pissed me off. I chewed in spite of its loose consistency to emphasize the point that I can handle any accuser, prevail over any miserable comforter and stand resilient against an army that made me what to run all the way out to the prairies to hide in the first place.
I took one last swig of vodka and lay my trembling body flush against the ground. I thought it was really cold and Regina was an awful long way away....
When I woke up I was surrounded by Hudderites, the amish-esque rejecters of society who populate the prairies. They took me in to their underground colony and explained their way of life. Originally they lived in houses made of bread like the Doukabours but they would never last through the cruel Saskatchewan winters. They spoon fed me gobs of Saskatoon berry jam and told me tales of the last Saskatchewan pirate and how the inaugural pirate hunt drove them into isolation. The pirates dominated the mighty shores of Regina and eventually the townsfolk took up arms and culled the pirate population. It’s been a black mark in the history books of the province and they’ve been met with much criticism similar to the seal hunt in Newfoundland. Afterwards, we rejected sin long into the night and I fell asleep not wishing for anything beneath the very soil that I had just ingested.
On the minibus back into town I felt a little freer, a little less subordinate to the world around me. My frost bite just a simple complication associated with the conquering of your own dissidence, my tormented stomach a mere by product of being ruled by none. I felt romantic and unburdened, more importantly I felt. Period.
posted by El Chupacabra @ 8:56 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home