There is a homeless shelter in Montréal for people under the age of 25 that I have used from time to time in my travels. It is in a church basement and there are pool tables and ping-pong tables and lost Montréal street kid and they al go there when they get too worn out from drinking all day. Pan up enough to a beer--drink it in a park--pan up enough to get a beer. Then there are travelers the don't want to pay for a room--then there is just wanderers like me that don't know what the want or have or want to have or don't want to have. Steven ash knew what he wanted to have.
Steve was from Newfoundland and looked like the guy who played wolverine in XMEN. I go see met him by asking him for a smoke in the homeless shelter.
"An English by' I see” He said.
"A Newfoundlander!" I said. "I am quarter neuf." He gave me a smoke. "Thanks what you doing here u don't look ;like the type to be in a place like this?"
"neither do you."
"what’s that mean?"
"I have just seen you around you just don't look like the type that would need to be in a place like this."
"well what are you doing here then?" He told me he had been hitch-hiking across the country and had to go back home because his sister was getting married. Asked me where the Jewish ghetto was in Montréal. I told him I did not know there was one.
"Westmont" A dirty bum that we hung around said with a laugh--it took me a year or so until I knew why that was spose to be funny. Steve wanted to see mordicia riuchler's old stomping grounds. I asked him if he was a writer. He sad he was. I asked him if he had read on the road--he said no and would not dollar hand and a buzz cuone and after we finaly found him he just gave us a run around, and disipaered after th steve and I decided to hit the road.
Hitch-hicking is boring--the only buzz you get is for the 10 seconds that you realize that a car has stoped and it is a strech limo and the guy buys you lunch and a pint of whisy--but then he drops you off in brockville ontrio where steve is afraid because he has stole from some on in town coming through the u her way.
We go to a bar and sit by the pool table and play pool a bit. There are not girls and we are both a little pissed off by this. We ask the bartender, a man that lookls like he just came from or is about to go fishing.
He says that there is a place across town that has all kinds of chicks--we go.
It looks as same as the pub we were just in but there are all kinds of skanky looking girls (not that i mind) but syeve is turned off. We sit down at a table with some girls and one guy--they give us speed, then I start geting bit out of hand and a guy with a buzz cute kicks me out. After several attempts to get back in I giveup and buy a porn and go back to the park where we had stash our stuff. The porno is a guide to all the porn movies put out in 2003. I look and get an erection--go in the outhouse but for some reason couls not bring my self to spank it.
Steve comes about an hour later and I say:
"dick you got laid and that is why I got this porn." I say sadly holding up the porn. "I couldn't bring myself to do it though."
"I didn't get laid." steve says and grabs the porn and goes in to the out house.
The next day we hitch down to niagra falls and look for a place to stay. We are doing the Homless shelter curcit as steve puts it but find none and then a salvation army van is called and we are driven up to st. cathrines where there is a salvtion army we can stay.
St. Cathrines known for being the birth place of serial killer carla hamoka and paul bernardo is a dank and dreay place--too american some candians would say--The firstday after we sleep in a bunk bed deal and being woken in the middle of the night over someone aparently useing some one eles tooth past steve and i go out on the town in search of weed. Our hook up is a junky Rod who is about our age and is dressed all in black and has long black hair and fish nets. he take us down to a field and we smoke him a jiont I am drinking a beer and looking a the porno--I start ripping out the pages and put them all over the jungle jim. It is a dark grey day, but some how feels free--like I can do anything--pluse this impresses our new goth junky friend Who thinks it is a better Idea to bury the porn so the kids can find it...
We get jobs cleaning out the back of an old tier factory. Old tier dateing back to the seventies, ranging from tractor to bike tier. We have to clear th out of a lot that is cover with viens and things--we delelope a system and the thrid guy sit down all day. The next day it is just me an steve who tak about books and writiing all day while stacking the old wet greasy teir in the back of a truck.
During nights I buy beer and steve buys weed and we explore th town--we find a nice spot down by the rive under an over pass that we can chuck rocks in to the river drinkand talk about stuff. Steve has become infatuated with a hooker around town--of course he says he'd never pay for sex but--damn--he says--god damn!
Other places around town are the parking lot across from a gym where high school and 20 somthings gather and drink and do drugs. One night i try some morphine and ghet fucking crazy agree to see who can hold a cggarte to each others arm longer "chicken" she called it. I won I still have the scar.
Steve was starting to get weary of it all--the only good things in his mind about st. cathrines was it great big book store that were seconed hand--floors and floors with boxs and boxs we' d roam around them for hour. I found THE SUN ALSO RISES and read in the book store--I don't know why I did not buy it? it only coast a doallar--then ther was the libary that let us right on the computers-- I have lost all my stuff from back then. While I wrote away about what we were doing from day to day steve read jung and books about hypnoises I got a bit worried about this, but he asured me he had not hypnotised me. Around wo days before canada day we went off again for Ottawa for celibration.
I otawa I decided not to look for work--Steve had plenty and i could bum off him--although he was geting sick of my drinking all the time. It was luck for me that we happend across a beer promotion where you just had to sing your nam of a peice of paper and you got a free 6 of beer--the people were cool though and allowed steve and I to make up 6 or 7 names each so we were set for beer for a while.
On canada day stve met some girl and they were fucking around all night--I just sat and drank beer--the ocaisionly came back from the bushes and drank and talked and laughed. Steve passed out and I was left to talk to tis hot blond steve had picked up and when it is me and a girl and we are alone and we are drunk I very rarely have trouble geting my way. About half way through steve's girl and my little trip steve woke up and stormed off. The next day he was leavinf--I went with him the the bus stop.
"it was nice knowing you. hope i see you again." I said--I was really sad to see him go. He looked at me funny and took a peice of paper from his pocket.
"here I gave this to that chick too." It was his adress. I lost it later--have never seen him scinse....
hitch
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Axanderdeath
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hitch
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judih
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Geoff's work after spell-check,,,
_____________________________________________________
There is a homeless shelter in Montréal for people under the age of 25 that I have used from time to time in my travels. It is in a church basement and there are pool tables and ping-pong tables and lost Montréal street kids and they all go there when they get too worn out from drinking all day. Pan up enough to a beer--drink it in a park--pan up enough to get a beer. Then there are travelers that don't want to pay for a room--then there are just wanderers like me that don't know what they want or have or want to have or don't want to have. Steven Ash knew what he wanted to have.
Steve was from Newfoundland and looked like the guy who played wolverine in XMEN. I got to meet him by asking him for a smoke in the homeless shelter.
"An English by' I see,” he said.
"A Newfoundlander!" I said. "I am quarter neuf." He gave me a smoke. "Thanks, what you doing here? U don't look like the type to be in a place like this."
"Neither do you."
"What’s that mean?"
"I have just seen you around. You just don't look like the type that would need to be in a place like this."
"Well what are you doing here then?" He told me he had been hitch-hiking across the country and had to go back home because his sister was getting married. Asked me where the Jewish ghetto was in Montréal. I told him I did not know there was one.
"Westmont" A dirty bum that we hung around said with a laugh--it took me a year or so until I knew why that was supposed to be funny. Steve wanted to see Mordecai Richler's old stomping grounds. I asked him if he was a writer. He sad he was. I asked him if he had read On the Road--he said no and would not dollar hand and a buzz cone and after we finally found him he just gave us a run around, and disappeared. After that Steve and I decided to hit the road.
Hitch-hiking is boring--the only buzz you get is for the 10 seconds that you realize that a car has stopped and it is a stretch limo and the guy buys you lunch and a pint of whiskey--but then he drops you off in Brockville Ontario where Steve is afraid because he has stolen from someone in town coming through the other way.
We go to a bar and sit by the pool table and play pool a bit. There are no girls and we are both a little pissed off by this. We ask the bartender, a man that looks like he just came from or is about to go fishing.
He says that there is a place across town that has all kinds of chicks--we go.
It looks as same as the pub we were just in but there are all kinds of skanky looking girls (not that I mind) but Steve is turned off. We sit down at a table with some girls and one guy--they give us speed, then I start getting a bit out of hand and a guy with a buzz cut kicks me out. After several attempts to get back in I give up and buy a porno and go back to the park where we stashed our stuff. The porno is a guide to all the porn movies put out in 2003. I look and get an erection--go in the outhouse but for some reason could not bring my self to spank it.
Steve comes about an hour later and I say:
"Dick you got laid and that is why I got this porn." I say sadly holding up the porn. "I couldn't bring myself to do it though."
"I didn't get laid." Steve says and grabs the porn and goes into the outhouse.
The next day we hitch down to Niagara Falls and look for a place to stay. We are doing the Homeless shelter circuit as Steve puts it but find none and then a salvation army van is called and we are driven up to St. Catherines where there is a salvation army we can stay.
St. Catherines, known for being the birth place of serial killer Carla Hamoka and Paul Bernardo, is a dank and dreary place--too American some Canadians would say--The first day after we sleep in a bunk bed deal and being woken in the middle of the night over someone apparently using someone else's toothpaste, Steve and I go out on the town in search of weed. Our hook up is a junky Rod who is about our age and is dressed all in black and has long black hair and fish nets. He takes us down to a field and we smoke a joint with him. I am drinking a beer and looking at the porno--I start ripping out the pages and put them all over the jungle gym. It is a dark grey day, but somehow feels free--like I can do anything--plus this impresses our new goth junky friend who thinks it is a better idea to bury the porn so the kids can find it...
We get jobs cleaning out the back of an old tire factory. Old tires dating back to the seventies, ranging from tractor to bike tires. We have to clear them out of a lot that is covered with vans and things--we develop a system and the third guy sits down all day. The next day it is just me and Steve who talk about books and writing all day while stacking the old wet greasy tires in the back of a truck.
During nights I buy beer and Steve buys weed and we explore the town--we find a nice spot down by the river under an overpass where we can chuck rocks into the river, drink and talk about stuff. Steve has become infatuated with a hooker around town--of course he says he'd never pay for sex but--damn--he says--god damn!
Other places around town are the parking lot across from a gym where high school and 20-somethings gather and drink and do drugs. One night I try some morphine and get fucking crazy and agree to see who can hold a cigarette to each other's arm longer. "Chicken," she called it. I won. I still have the scar.
Steve was starting to get weary of it all--the only good things in his mind about St. Catherines was a great big book store with second hand-floors and floors with boxes and boxes we' d roam around for hours. I found THE SUN ALSO RISES and read it in the book store--I don't know why I did not buy it - it only coast a dollar--then there was the library that let us write on the computers-- I have lost all my stuff from back then. While I wrote away about what we were doing from day to day, Steve read Jung and books about hypnosis. I got a bit worried about this, but he assured me he had not hypnotized me. Around two days before Canada Day we went off again to Ottawa for celebration.
In Ottawa, I decided not to look for work--Steve had plenty and I could bum off him--although he was getting sick of my drinking all the time. It was lucky for me that we happened across a beer promotion where you just had to sign your name on a piece of paper and you got a free 6 of beer--the people were cool though and allowed Steve and I to make up 6 or 7 names each so we were set for beer for a while.
On Canada Day, Steve met some girl and they were fucking around all night--I just sat and drank beer--then occasionally came back from the bushes and drank and talked and laughed. Steve passed out and I was left to talk to this hot blonde Steve had picked up and when it is me and a girl and we are alone and we are drunk I very rarely have trouble getting my way. About half way through Steve's girl and my little trip, Steve woke up and stormed off. The next day he was leaving--I went with him to the bus stop.
"It was nice knowing you. Hope I see you again." I said--I was really sad to see him go. He looked at me funny and took a piece of paper from his pocket.
"Here. I gave this to that chick too." It was his address. I lost it later--have never seen him since....
_____________________________________________________
There is a homeless shelter in Montréal for people under the age of 25 that I have used from time to time in my travels. It is in a church basement and there are pool tables and ping-pong tables and lost Montréal street kids and they all go there when they get too worn out from drinking all day. Pan up enough to a beer--drink it in a park--pan up enough to get a beer. Then there are travelers that don't want to pay for a room--then there are just wanderers like me that don't know what they want or have or want to have or don't want to have. Steven Ash knew what he wanted to have.
Steve was from Newfoundland and looked like the guy who played wolverine in XMEN. I got to meet him by asking him for a smoke in the homeless shelter.
"An English by' I see,” he said.
"A Newfoundlander!" I said. "I am quarter neuf." He gave me a smoke. "Thanks, what you doing here? U don't look like the type to be in a place like this."
"Neither do you."
"What’s that mean?"
"I have just seen you around. You just don't look like the type that would need to be in a place like this."
"Well what are you doing here then?" He told me he had been hitch-hiking across the country and had to go back home because his sister was getting married. Asked me where the Jewish ghetto was in Montréal. I told him I did not know there was one.
"Westmont" A dirty bum that we hung around said with a laugh--it took me a year or so until I knew why that was supposed to be funny. Steve wanted to see Mordecai Richler's old stomping grounds. I asked him if he was a writer. He sad he was. I asked him if he had read On the Road--he said no and would not dollar hand and a buzz cone and after we finally found him he just gave us a run around, and disappeared. After that Steve and I decided to hit the road.
Hitch-hiking is boring--the only buzz you get is for the 10 seconds that you realize that a car has stopped and it is a stretch limo and the guy buys you lunch and a pint of whiskey--but then he drops you off in Brockville Ontario where Steve is afraid because he has stolen from someone in town coming through the other way.
We go to a bar and sit by the pool table and play pool a bit. There are no girls and we are both a little pissed off by this. We ask the bartender, a man that looks like he just came from or is about to go fishing.
He says that there is a place across town that has all kinds of chicks--we go.
It looks as same as the pub we were just in but there are all kinds of skanky looking girls (not that I mind) but Steve is turned off. We sit down at a table with some girls and one guy--they give us speed, then I start getting a bit out of hand and a guy with a buzz cut kicks me out. After several attempts to get back in I give up and buy a porno and go back to the park where we stashed our stuff. The porno is a guide to all the porn movies put out in 2003. I look and get an erection--go in the outhouse but for some reason could not bring my self to spank it.
Steve comes about an hour later and I say:
"Dick you got laid and that is why I got this porn." I say sadly holding up the porn. "I couldn't bring myself to do it though."
"I didn't get laid." Steve says and grabs the porn and goes into the outhouse.
The next day we hitch down to Niagara Falls and look for a place to stay. We are doing the Homeless shelter circuit as Steve puts it but find none and then a salvation army van is called and we are driven up to St. Catherines where there is a salvation army we can stay.
St. Catherines, known for being the birth place of serial killer Carla Hamoka and Paul Bernardo, is a dank and dreary place--too American some Canadians would say--The first day after we sleep in a bunk bed deal and being woken in the middle of the night over someone apparently using someone else's toothpaste, Steve and I go out on the town in search of weed. Our hook up is a junky Rod who is about our age and is dressed all in black and has long black hair and fish nets. He takes us down to a field and we smoke a joint with him. I am drinking a beer and looking at the porno--I start ripping out the pages and put them all over the jungle gym. It is a dark grey day, but somehow feels free--like I can do anything--plus this impresses our new goth junky friend who thinks it is a better idea to bury the porn so the kids can find it...
We get jobs cleaning out the back of an old tire factory. Old tires dating back to the seventies, ranging from tractor to bike tires. We have to clear them out of a lot that is covered with vans and things--we develop a system and the third guy sits down all day. The next day it is just me and Steve who talk about books and writing all day while stacking the old wet greasy tires in the back of a truck.
During nights I buy beer and Steve buys weed and we explore the town--we find a nice spot down by the river under an overpass where we can chuck rocks into the river, drink and talk about stuff. Steve has become infatuated with a hooker around town--of course he says he'd never pay for sex but--damn--he says--god damn!
Other places around town are the parking lot across from a gym where high school and 20-somethings gather and drink and do drugs. One night I try some morphine and get fucking crazy and agree to see who can hold a cigarette to each other's arm longer. "Chicken," she called it. I won. I still have the scar.
Steve was starting to get weary of it all--the only good things in his mind about St. Catherines was a great big book store with second hand-floors and floors with boxes and boxes we' d roam around for hours. I found THE SUN ALSO RISES and read it in the book store--I don't know why I did not buy it - it only coast a dollar--then there was the library that let us write on the computers-- I have lost all my stuff from back then. While I wrote away about what we were doing from day to day, Steve read Jung and books about hypnosis. I got a bit worried about this, but he assured me he had not hypnotized me. Around two days before Canada Day we went off again to Ottawa for celebration.
In Ottawa, I decided not to look for work--Steve had plenty and I could bum off him--although he was getting sick of my drinking all the time. It was lucky for me that we happened across a beer promotion where you just had to sign your name on a piece of paper and you got a free 6 of beer--the people were cool though and allowed Steve and I to make up 6 or 7 names each so we were set for beer for a while.
On Canada Day, Steve met some girl and they were fucking around all night--I just sat and drank beer--then occasionally came back from the bushes and drank and talked and laughed. Steve passed out and I was left to talk to this hot blonde Steve had picked up and when it is me and a girl and we are alone and we are drunk I very rarely have trouble getting my way. About half way through Steve's girl and my little trip, Steve woke up and stormed off. The next day he was leaving--I went with him to the bus stop.
"It was nice knowing you. Hope I see you again." I said--I was really sad to see him go. He looked at me funny and took a piece of paper from his pocket.
"Here. I gave this to that chick too." It was his address. I lost it later--have never seen him since....
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