IfIdidnotlistwhatIwanted,howcouldIrecallallIdesireThousandsoffeetofproduce.Suchmagiccannotcomewithoutcost.Celerythencarrots,orcarrots,orcelery.
Almostanypapercanandmaynotnotbeusedagainstyou.Createadistance.Dropthisnow.
Paperitselfevokeschopping,bouquetsofthistlesandbratwurst.Alyssums.AhugofAlsatians.(Releasethepounds!)No,keepit.Secretpocket.Thispaperwillself-instructin—
Plates.
InGreecenoonethrows1europlatesanymore.Tosayopa!—nocharge.Flowers,forsaleatcaféstotourists,arethrown,asdisplacedpeoplewatch,beg,incense.
Manythingscausehunger.Manythingscausehunger’sloss.Toremortgageyourhopemaycostyouyourhope.Achipofftheoldplate.Ashipofftheoldport.Aslipofftheoldanchorofand/or.
Aplateevokescutlery,company,civility’sfailedremarks.Perhaps,itevokesrunning.Torephrase,itisnetflixandcablebillsandobligationstobepunctualandproductive.
Toparaphrase,alwayscarryi.d.It’slikeaLARPforaNewCanada.YoutoocanbeaPersonWithoutState.Thisiscooked.Thisischar’sfragrance.Thisishardtotrackwithdumbnoses.Itevokesmotives,signal,fragility,bankaccounts.
Cart.
Fortoday’spurposes,herbs,cannedfruit,7melonstoball,anoverproductionoforder.Onceenoughfoodhasbeengathered,apartyisthenaturaloutcome.Tothisend,itisknowntosomeas.i.e.,itevokeslocal.Slow.Slow.InEgypt,chouaichouai.Evensexalsohastofryitsturnipsonesideatatime.Themetalmesh.Thecart,thedeepfryer,thepotatoes’kitchenjailor.
Asweetpotatocriesasyrupwhichisasugar,whichremainstheoppositeofsalty-bitter,oppositeofbland,oppositeofspicy,oppositeofsavoury.Arawsweetpotatoisahammer.Isanimpact.Poorman,smeltthehammertomakenailsandstaplestofastendowntheworldinavacationer’sparadise.Whereisyourhammer.Whereisyourlunch.Decisionsofconsumptionaremadewiththebody’sintuition,intheunconscioussystems,notintheverbal.
Bodies.
Thecowwalksonhermouth.Cowsaremorethantheirmilkandstolenboys.Cowsaretheirlowing,theirlovingcupsofhooves,howtheyleavetheirbrokenOOOOovertheearth.
Nothingneedsarticulationbutlimbs,yethowtonotmovethetongue.Ittakesthesolesmoreenergytolean,orstandonpeg-legsthantowalkanewpace.So,go,autopilotastheJetsons,asthe50s,asforgivenesses,asallthebodyreleasesback.
Produce.
Untilnow,acarrothasbeenknowntosomeasareluctantvitaminAandtoothersasavigour,interchangeablewithabananaasatoolforamind,justasa香蕉isasymbool.Forgiveusourvegetables,ourlackofpermanentwoodystems,our,our.brothersthatshareouroneair.
Hands.
Myhndskriftcountsagainstme.Mindremainsthepluralofmind.Thetzatzikiistikilights,isbeachbarbecue,ispitcooking,israfts,isbikini,issalty,issaucy,iswhite,isspilledonthesand.Cannedpineapplehasbeencannedsince1903.Fruitissexforsalewhileshowingtoomanyteeth,butthat’sjustnerves.
Wantsqueezesaroundourknowingandno-ledgelikesomuchmeltedcheese.Hamisproductplacementinothershopper’scart.Theoppositeofpalaeolithicisatongue’speriodical.Desireiscarefullyplacedconversationalplantsofchitchatwithchaps.Ahamandabowlevokehemispheres,emptyandfull.Eachdayisthehautecuisineofourdenials.
Bakery.
Hesitationbeforeansweringistheanswer.Agreed,asliceandacake:asliceisnotawhole.Isajaw’smusclememory.Acakeevokescelebration,retirements,birthdays,funeralwakes.IsfruitistoppedwithEnglishcream.Isaslipperyslickslope.Isamuddiness,isaspeed,isastartlechased,rollingtumblewithafatecomplete.aAfataccompli.Isnochangeofclothes.Isgapofdunno.Islaughter.Isself-deprecation.Isselfwithlittleroomlefttolosevalue.Torephrase,itisanalbum.Itisasnapshot.Itisapixel.Itisapixie.Itisamischief.Itisprochief.Itisproficient.Itistakingthatgleefulstab.ThereisNoNextLifetime.
Thecakeevokesbatter,heat.Allisafactor,afactory,afire.Isaloaftoaflame.Isarocktothelame.Isalimping.Cakeisage,mortality,death.Justone,asinglepiece,asingle.Senki.Noone.Eachthingisontheplatewithouttouching.Eachpersonintheroomwithouttouching.Eachwordintheearhairwithout,well,echo.(Ma,sadmole’stryingtostealthesoapboxagain.)Outofstepisakindofblessing.HowmanysoldiersonthebridgemustmarchtosetupasympatheticvibrationtoshatteritAngersBridge,1850.483soldiersand4curiosityseekersandathunderstormwind.
Light.
Istand,but,therhythms,theyrefusedmefirst.Lightisavisionofitself.Inthisway,lightisaparticlemirror.Itisacleansedietofbuttertarts.Ajesusblowingmusicintoasaxophone.Airoutisapotentaphrodisiac.Relentlesslywhimsical,themultitudesnetouttohaveonecollectivegender,achoirofheartsongsinabandsowideleftsidecannothearharmonyofright.
Checkthepocketsofsunlightforchangeandotherweapons.Therearedayswhensunlightisjustadeterrent.Isjustadetergent.Dayswhenlemonandlimecan’tfindenoughsugartobindthem.It’stheoxygenthateatsthewick,thepaper,isthesmokingcigarette,isaμπανναisasigaroisacarrotstickclenchedandsnapped.
PearlPiriewriteslikenite-litesbutwithoutelectricitysometimes.Hermostrecentbookisthepetradish,shrunken(BookThug,2015).
IfonlyIcouldforgetJack’sparty.ItwasinearlyFebruary,orwasitMarchWewereinvitedbyalittledirtycard.Isaydirtybecausethatwasthestateofthepaper,withsmearyfingerprints,andarippedcorner,notthatitwaspornographic.Infact,heusedakid’sinvitationwithaclownonthefront.Hemusthavedroppeditinourmailbox.IsaidtoK—let’snotgo,okaylet’snot.AndKsaid—Iknowwhyyou’resayingthat.AndIunderstand.Butnotgoingisnotanoption.Iwishyouhadn’tevensaidit.
ItoldK—butI’vealreadysaidit.
Kisoftenconfusinglikethis.Denyingreality.Asifthetwoofuscouldstickourfingersinourearsandsitdowninacornerofourclutteredlivingroomandmakeupourownrealityifwecouldjustagreeonwhatitis.
AndifKislikeI’msayingthenJackisseveralnotchesuponthedial.Jack’shouseislikeanotherreality.Youneverknowwhatyouwillfind.Ithoughthewasahoarderbecausethefirsttimewevisited,hishousewasfullofancientpuppets,vinylrecords,boardgames,andpilesofcostumejewelleryfromthe1950s.ItoldKmyopinion,butKjustlaughed—you’llseeKsaid.
Thenthenexttimewewentthere,thewholeplacewasempty.WesatonthefloorwithfourothersdrinkingredwinefromDixiecupsandtherewasn’tastickoffurnitureintheplace.Ididn’tunderstandwhatanyonewastalkingabout.Attheendofthenight,Jackwentupstairsandcamebackwithablacksnakecoiledaroundhisarm.
AnothertimeitwaspeoplespeakingChineseorsomethinglikethat,sharinghome-cookednoodlessospicytheymademesick.
TherewasthecollectionofdiscardedTimHorton’scupsafewmonthslater.Jacktookusaroundandtolduswheretheyhadbeenfound.Hehadwrittenoutalittlecardforeachone.Hundreds.Ididn’twaitforhimtogetthroughmorethantwenty.
IamanervouspersonandIliketoknowwhat’sgoingtohappen,soastimewenton,eventhesuggestionofJack’shousemademyskincontractinachillysweat.WhatKthoughtofJackishardtoknow.HeneveragreedwithmewhenIsaid—Jackiscrazy.Ksaid—Jackisanartist.
ItwassocoldthenightofJack’sparty.Iwaswearingaparkaandcouldhardlyseeathingbecausethefakefurwasinmyeyes.Kknockedonthedoorbutnooneansweredforalongtime.
OhGod,nowI’vebuiltitupandyouwillwantmetodescribeit.You’velistenedthislongwonderingwhatonearthhappenedatJack’sparty.Youknowyoumighthavetosay—there,there.YouknowyoumighthavetocalmmedownifIgethysterical,butstill,youwantmetotellyouaboutit.
ButItoldyouatthebeginning.Idon’twanttoremember.IhavenoideawhyI’veeventoldyouthismuch.
BethE.Janzen’sfictionhasappearedinRiptides:NewIslandFictionandinGalleonIII.HerpoetryhasbeenpublishedinjournalssuchasTheAntigonishReview,Grain,andTheMalahatReview.HerbookofpoetryTheEnchantedHouse(Acorn)wasnominatedforthePEIbookawardin2008.
CandaceSavagetalkstoherselfincessantly(innerspeak)andoccasionallywritesthingsdown.ShelivesinSaskatoon,Saskatchewan.
I’vedroppedthreeofthefourpiecesoflitterinaconstructiondumpster.I’monmywaytoareadingatLoft112intheEastVillageinCalgary,anareaintransition.New,new,new,springinguparoundtheover-crowdedrefugesandtheirclientele.
I’mdoingthisbecauseourmayor,NaheedNenshitoldmeto.No,no.Hedidn’ttellmetogotothereading,althoughifhe’dpersonallyinvitedmeIwouldhavebeentherehalfanhourearly.IfI’mluckyI’llarrivebeforethebreakandintimeforwine.IfI’mlucky,beforeIgetthereI’llalsodisposeoflitter#4,anenvelopeI’vewrappedinseverallayersofcrumpledtissueandstuffedintothedeeppocketofmyraincoat.
No,thechallengeourmayorissuedtothegoodcitizensofCalgarywastokeepourcityclean,topickuplitterwhereverweseeit.Myhusbandclaimsthemayorspecified“fourpiecesoflittereach”butI’msurethemayorsaidthatoneinfourlitterpicker-uppercitizenscouldmakethedifference.Idon’tpickupmyneighbours’litterwhenI’moutforastroll.That’stheirresponsibility.Buthere,whenIcrossedthegarbagestrewnvacantlot,Ipulledmyselfupshortwhenmyfirstreactionwasthatsomeoneshoulddosomethingaboutthismess.Ah,Conscience,youhavesuchmessypriorities.Andso–fourpieces.
WhykeeptheenvelopeIcanfeelitinmypocketwhileI’mschmoozing,sippingwinewithmyfellowwriters.BecausemanyagoodstoryhasbegunwiththearrivalofanunexpectedletterInthiscase,theenvelopebearsonlyaprintedTO:Nicholasintheupperrightcorner.ButIknowthereismore.Igingerlyliftedtheflapandsawthesinglefoldedsheetofruledpaperrippedfromacoilpad.
Backonthestreet,IpulltheenvelopefromtheswathingoftissueandasgingerlyasIpickeditupanhourago,usemyfingertipstoremove,unfoldthelinedmessage.
NickymeandKatiemissyouMum’snotdoingsogood.IseenDeenotheotherdayandhesaysyourstillaroundandhethinksmaybeatthathomelessplaceatnight.Ihopethisgetstoyoucauseyouhavetocomehome.LoveyourbrotherKevin.
Thisisanoldstory.AsadoneI’mnoteventemptedtosteal.Buttomorrow,Mondaymorning,IamgoingtohanddeliverthislettertoMayorNenshi’soffice,withanotetellinghimthatlitterisnobigdeal.HomelessnessandsadkidsareTheBigDeal.AndIamissuinghimthechallengeoffindingNicholasandmakingsurethiscitygetsthingsrightandpicksuptheNickysandKatiesandKevinsandtheirmumswhoarelyingatthesideoftheroad.
BettyJaneHegeratisaCalgarywriter,occasionalteacher,forwhomoneofthegreatestbenefitsofwritinghasbeenhermembershipinahugecommunityofwriters.BettyJaneistheauthoroftwonovels,acollectionofshortstories,andaworkofcreativenon-fictionthatisahybridoffiction,memoirandinvestigativejournalism.Hershortfictionandessayshavebeenpublishedinvariousliterarymagazinesandanthologies.Hernewestwork,anovelforteens,willbepublishedbyOolichanBooksinFebrurary2016.Atthe2015AlbertaBookAwards,BettyJanewastherecipientoftheGoldenPenAwardforLifetimeAchievementinWriting.Shewasdeeplyhonouredandhumbledbythisrecognition.
MaryPoppinshadmorethanmagic,shehadcertainty.Mariawasallgoldendoubt.Butbothcharactersfaithfullyprovidedchildcare.Iworktooregularlytobeflighty-MaryorMrs.Banks-the-suffragette&Ineverlikedoldermen,sowheredoesthatleavemeAbletovote&marryforlove,that’swhat.Mostnights,Iwanttoslumpinachair,lookingatfeministpornonmyphone,butImakedinner&shufflelaundry.Imovethementalfurniturearound.ButtheolderIget,thelessI’msureofandevenJulieAndrewslostmostofhervoice&thenherhusband.WhenIwalkinthewoods,Ifillmybagwithotherpeople’strash.Itdoesn’tmakemeanysunnier.ButwhenIfightwithmypartner,Icaninstantlyaccessmymother’sdespair,likeitwasanecklaceshe’dpasseddown.Ablastedheirloom.Shewastoosmartforherowngood,theirfriendsmuttered,astheywatchedmyfathermoveout.CharactersonTVsitcomsproclaim“Happywife,happylife,”butItoldmypartnerthatifheevertriedtoapologizewithjewellery,I’dleavehim.
ArielGordonisaWinnipegwriter.Hersecondcollectionofpoetry,Stowaways(PalimpsestPress,2014),wonthe2015LansdownePrizeforPoetry.Whennotbeingbookish,Ariellikestrompingthroughthewoodsandtakingmacrophotographsofmushrooms.
“Dude,bestnewsever,parentsaregoneforthewholefriggin’loooongweekend.Partycentralatourplace!”
“Noway…cool.Let’sgetthewordout.”
***
“Hey,bestblowoutever,man!Threedaysofnon-stoppartee!Bettergetthisshitcleanedupbeforeyourparentsgetback.”
“Yeah,nobiggie,butIstillhavetomowthefrickin’lawn.”
“Anythingelseyouweresupposedtodo”
“Nope,thatwasit.”
“Cool.Hey,man…doyounoticelikea…weirdsmell”
AllisonHowardco-editedAMemoirofFriendship:TheLettersBetweenCarolShieldsandBlancheHoward(Penguin2007)asajointprojectwithhermotherandco-writer,BlancheHoward,andhasbeenpublishedinYorkUniversity’s,CanadianWomanStudies.SheisaformersocialworkerlivinginPenticton,B.C.
Ican’trememberwhyIstarteddrinking,even.Iusedtobeabletoremember.ThenIforgot.“Youshouldseeatherapist,”Janicetoldme.Mysister.“It’snotthatbigaproblem,”Isaid.“Notyet.”Janicegrabbedmyneck.“Justgo.ItworkedforDad.AndforMom.DoyouwanttoenduplikeBiscuit”Istaredatthetable.Iwasprettydrunk.Wefinishedourdrinks.Onthewayout,IgrabbedJanice’sneck.OrIwould’vefallendown.Iapologized.“Thanksforbreakfast,”shesaid.
Momletmetastehermargaritas.Growingup.Justonesipfromeachone.Shecouldknockbackquiteafew.“Doesn’tthattasteawful”shealwayssaid.Ialwaysanswered,“Yes.”“Soyou’llneverdrinkthemwhenyou’reolder”Ialwayssaid“No.”Everytime.Onenight,comingbackfromafriend’s,Ifoundmydadlyingonhisbackonthelawn.Ihelpedhimup.Itwasminustwenty.“Youforgethowcoldsnowgets,”hesaid.Ihelpedhimtothebedroom.Momwaslyingonthebedroomfloor.BiscuitandIpickedherupandlayheronthebednexttoDad.Sheopenedhereyesforasecond.“Don’ttellmykidsIwasdrinking,”shewhispered.
Dr.Hollowoodlookedthepart.Hehadhardlyanyhair,justafewscratchesontheside.Andglasses.Thoughhisofficewasn’tlikeI’dpictured.Therewerenobookshelvesorsumptuouscarpets.Therewasnocouch.Therewasachair.“Whydoyoudrink”heasked.“Ihavenoidea,”Isaid.“Trytothink.”IthoughtashardasIcould.Iwasdrunk.“Whatareyouthinkingof”“Whatwasthequestionagain”Wetalkedformaybehalfanhour.Dr.Hollowoodlookedathiswatch.“That’sallthetimewehavetoday.It’smydaughter’swedding.”Iwaswonderingaboutthetux.
Thesaddestpeopleintheworldgettogethereverymorning.Theywaitinlinefortheliquorstoretoopen.Iknowmostofthem,thoughnotreally.Iwaswaitinginline.Thewomanatthefrontofthelinekeptrubbingherface.Therewasayoungguybythedoor.Sittingbehindanemptyguitarcase.Hedidn’thaveaguitar.Iguesshewashopingforthebest.“It’s10:01,”saidthewomanatthefront,tappingontheglass.Thedooropened.Onmywayin,Itossedaquarterintotheguitarcase.Theguylookedupandsmiled.Hestillhadafewgoodteeth.
Dr.Hollowoodcrossedhislegs.“Didyouhaveahappychildhood”Iknewhewasgoingtosaythat.“Itwasprettyhappy,yeah.”“Youmentionedyourparentswerebothalcoholics”“Yeah.”“IguessIwashappyanyway.Iwasakid.It’sstrangehowthatworks.”“Howdoyoumean”“Well…You’reunhappyasakid.Butyou’llneverbethathappyagain.”Dr.Hollowoodtouchedhischin.Thedooropened.Amanranintotheroom.“Ithappenedagain,”hesaid.
ImetJaniceforlunch.ItwasMay23rd.Ihopedshewouldn’tremember.“You’relookingbetter,”shesaid.“I’vehadmaybeoneortwodrinks,”Isaidproudly.I’dactuallyhadthree.Ihadn’tbeenthatsoberinalongtime.Janicelookedwistful.Shepokedherspaghettiwistfully.“Youknow,it’sbeentenyears.”Iknewshewasgoingtosaythat.“Hardtobelieveit.Tenyearssince—”“I’vegottago,”Isaid,gettingup.“SeeDr.Hollowood.”Igrabbedmycoat.Janicerubbedmyhand.“Lunchisonme,”shesaid.
Itwasjustabout10:00.Thewomanatthefrontofthelinewastryingtorubherfaceoff.Theguybehindtheguitarcasewassleeping.Thedooropened.WhenIgottothedoor,Istopped.“Idon’twanttodothisanymore,”Isaidoutloud.Itossedtwoquartersintotheguitarcase.Theguydidn’tevenwakeup.
WhenIwasseventeenandhewasnineteen,mybrotherwasdrivingushomefromaparty.We’dbothbeendrinking.Acarjumpedoverthemedianandhitus.Iremember…wewereupsidedown.Iundidmyseatbeltandfelldown.IundidBiscuit’sseatbeltandhefelldown.Theythinkhisneckwasbrokenalready.
Dr.HollowoodandIwentgolfing.Thefirstswing,Islicedprettybad.Dr.Hollowoodlinedhimselfup.“It’samatterofconfidence,”hesaid.“Imaginethegreatestgolferintheworld.You’rehim—onlyyou’rebetter.”Heswung.Theballlandedrightonthegreen.Itriedit.IimaginedIwasthebestgolferintheworld.Idon’treallyfollowgolf.IthoughtofJackNicklaus.Ihittheball.Ihookedit,thistime.“Nowyou’reoverconfident,”saidDr.Hollowood,laughing.IliftedmyclublikeIwasgoingtosmashit.“Youknowwhat,”Isaid.“That’sit.Maybethat’sit.Mydrinking.Myconfidence.Ibasicallyhavezeroconfidence.”“Geneticsisalsoastrongfactor,”saidDr.Hollowood.“You’reprobablyright,”Isaid.
ImetJanicefordinner.Itwasmyturntopay—usuallyI’dpicksomeplacecheap—butIwassavingsomuchbyhardlydrinking,Ithoughtwhatthehell.WeateatChezPedro.“Youlookgreat,”saidJanice.“I’msober,”Isaid.Iwas.Atacoshouldn’tcost$30.Iateitslowly.Janicestaredatthetable.“I’vegotsomeflowersinthecar,”shesaid.“You…wanttocome”“No,”Isaid.“Ican’tdealwithit.”“Noproblem,”shesaid.“Iunderstand.”Istaredatthetable.“Whatthehell,”Isaid,lookingup.“Let’sgo.”Janicesmiled.
There’saritzycemeterydowntown.Biscuit’sburiedinthecemeteryacrossfromit.Mostoftheheadstonesareprettysmallandcheap.WhenIsawhowshittyBiscuit’slookedincomparison—I’dneverbeenthere—myparentsdidn’thavealotofmoney—Icried,justabout.Itwasjustanironbar.Theacrossparthadfallenoff.Janiceputtheflowersdownandcried.Ifelthorrible.Ineededadrink.Ihuggedher.Itwasbad.Itwasn’tthatbad.
Ihaven’tgottendrunkinayear.Ihaven’thadadrinkinsixmonths.It’snotalongtime.It’salongtime.Onemorning,walkingpasttheliquorstore,Iwasbarelyeventempted,Isawtheguywiththecase.Hehadaguitarnow,too.I’mnotsurewhy.ButIsmiled.
Thislistofscribbles,oncefoldedinthemiddle.AHansel-Gretelmapofsevenwordsthatwon’taddup.
Itdoesn’tsaywhatnecklace–whethertochoose,toreturn,orhavethebrokenmadewhole.
AndwhatofthebookDidyoufindit,skimafewpages,skipahead,decideitwasn’tforyou
Didthetitletriggeraplantorunfulltiltanddodgethedangerofstayinginplace
Yourlist,ifitescapedapocketornegligenthand,fellpreytotheditch,theroughundergrowthoftown.
Daysoutsideclaimedtheirtoll,renderedthisscraparelicwhoseglyphsbaffleandfade.
Maybeyouletgoonpurposeandreachedforbetterthatday–astoryyoucouldreadtotheend.
IngridRuthiglivesontheshoreofLakeOntario,andjusteastofToronto.SheistheauthorofSlipstream,SynestheteII,andeditorofTheEssentialAnneWilkinsonandRichardOutram:EssaysonHisWorks.HerworkhasappearedwidelyinmanyCanadianandinternationalpublications,includingTheBestCanadianPoetry,NuméroCinq,TheMalahatReview,andNationalPost.Asavisualartist,shealtersexistingprintlanguageandimagetocreateafusioninheraward-winningtextworks,whichhavebeenshowninvariousgalleriesandareheldinprivatecollections.AvolumeofIngrid’spoemswillbepublishedbyFitzhenry&WhitesideinApril2016.
Worldclasssalon.
Whatexactlydoesthatmean,anyway
WinnerofCanadianSalonBusinessExcellence,FiveStarService.Whatdoesthatmean
KindathinkingitmeansnotverymuchafterthisappointmentwithMatina.Oh,Matina,you’reanicelady.You’reaskilledconversationalist,andobviouslyyou’vebeenworkinginpublicservicealongtimebecauseyouhaveconversationdowntoafineart.ThelisteningpartofthewholeexchangeNotsomuch.
ThisiswhatIsaywhenIcomein,pointingtomywildthatch:Trimtheends,nottoomuchoff.Reshapethebangs.Cutinsomemorelonglayers.Younod.Fine,noproblem,youhearthisallthetime,nodoubt.Matinaisapro,Ifeelconfidentofthisaswetalk.Wegototheback,andIsinkintothesinkchair.Watertemperature’sperfect,subtlejasmineshampooscentsoothes.YoumassagemyscalpandImelt,almostdriftoff.Thenit’sbacktothechair,drapedinplastic,andwhileyoucombandsnipandcombandsnipandcombandsnip,wetalk.
Oh,dowetalk.Movies,relationships,currentaffairs,travel,books,theeconomy,thepriceofgroceries,realityTV(myfavouriteoxymoron),breedsofdogs.Youmovewithacrobaticdaringfromonetopictothenext,fasterthanIcan,andI’maseasonedtalkermyself.BeforeIknowityou’redonecutting,andIhaveforgottentowatchwhatyou’redoing.You’vesucceededindistractingme.ForasecondIseeyoureyeflickerfromtheendsofmyhairtomyeyes,andIlook,too.Itlooksprettyshort.Butthenit’ssupposedtolookshorterrightafteryougetitcut,no
Isee,asyoublowdryit,thatitisnotwhatIaskedforatall.It’sthesamecutIsawontheladywalkingoutofherewhenIcamein;it’sthesamecutontheotherladyyouwerefinishingupwithasIflippedthroughamagazine.It’stheubiquitousshoulderlengthbob,it’sthesamehaircutyougavethem.I’llbetit’sthesamedamnhaircutyougiveeveryone.No,it’snotwhatIaskedforatall.
ButIamnothingifnotapragmatist.Hair,oncecut,cannotbeuncut.Iknowthistobetrue.Lettingitgrowbackinisallthereisforit.IamapragmatistandIamalsoaCanadian.Ithankyouforthecut.Itipyou.Anddespitemydisappointment,Iwillmorethanlikely,inthefullnessoftime,makeanotherappointmentwithyou.BecauseIenjoygoodconversation.AndbecausethisisaWorldClassSalon,afterall.
LoriHahnelistheauthoroftwonovels,LoveMinusZero(Oberon,2008)andAfterYou’veGone(Thistledown,2014),aswellasastorycollection,NothingSacred(Thistledown,2009),whichshortlistedforanAlbertaLiteraryAward.HerworkhasbeennominatedfortheJourneyPrizethreetimesandpublishedinoverthirtyjournalsacrossNorthAmericaandintheU.K.;hercreditsincludeCBCRadio,TheFiddlehead,JoylandandTheSaturdayEveningPost.LoriteachescreativewritingatMountRoyalUniversityandtheAlexandraWriters’Centre.