Laughter Turned To Tears (1986)
CHAPTER ONE: A MILLION KILOS OF CONFETTI
- The Ignorant and The Divine
In any important role, a line must be drawn between the absolute and the excess, the worthy and the weak, the ignorant and the divine. The time we waste lessens the grief we seek and all the animals weep for love. It is not our lot to scream the injustice because the crime is still just a dime a dozen, a life in shambles, a rude answer on the wall. All will not be lost though, so don't give up the fight (right after these commercial messages). The definitive is not always the one, a one, one more of these and all is done. Raise your faces to the sun because you are god.
-Jan. 28/1986
Toronto, Canada.
I took a look at it once but wasn't quite sure if I had read it right so I looked again.
"What do you think?" He was standing there like some exquisite being from somewhere out there. His handwriting was disgusting and his grin was worse. "Well?"
I held it up to him and shook my head. "Sir ... " but I was lost for words.
"Ya, ya, so what is it?
"Umm ... you wrote this, right?" He nods his head.
"And… uh, the ideas transformed onto this ... this, uh masterpiece are entirely yours?"
Again he repeats the motion with that round thing on his shoulders.
"What the hell does it mean?"
He seems stunned - like as if a million kilos of confetti had just fallen on top of him.
I just couldn't help it. I had to leave.
CHAPTER TWO: THE ELEVENTH
- A Mystery of Fate
For the only reason anyone ever cries, for the truth that is so desperately sought (vainly bought), for the essence of being and the bouquet of roses, for the altar, for the weight of a guilt ladened conscience, for the easy answers, the easy lies, for the visions gained and the sweetly sung lullabies - dark and evil and stinking of burnt flesh, for the mysteries of fate and the illusion of its passing, for you (as god) and I (as you), for just one damned second of pleasure, we search for love.
-Jan. 28/1986
Toronto, Canada.
I could have just ignored him when he approached. I could have just walloped him one also. I was sure this wasn't as it seemed. What I wasn't sure of was...
"What do you figure it means?"
...was what the hell it meant. I stammered for a bit, bit the bullet with both teeth, bought tea with both feet, "Seethe here son," I said, "someday the world is going to catch up with you." I stunned myself with strange syntax and said, "Again."
He is on guard now, no doubt. "The eleventh."
He shakes his head in a desperately wild manner. It was like as if the negative was true.
I just couldn't believe it. I had to leave.
CHAPTER THREE: EYES OF DECADENCE
- To Be So Unsure
Not even as odd or the other side of the story or coin - this was won with the valor. And for what? With whose guidance? Under what context or pretext or any text from the book of love? Surely we don't regret. Surely we know we will die. So, not just with motive or plan, action or dissatisfaction- that was lost beyond all help. No, we needed more. Were we sure? Were we unsure? Were we? Are we? Are you? God plants His feet before you ... (She looks angry).
-Jan. 28/1986
Toronto, Canada.
I felt like I could cry. I wished he would up and die. I knew his game. It was the same as before... strange writing, devious grin, the obvious. I let time soak up a bit of the present then said, "Of course, the lunacy presents itself as just one of the boys."
"Yes, but..."
"And, the crap about love is a throw-you-off."
"Certainly, you romantic fool, but..."
I sway back and grunt loudly three times. "C-c-c ... dibbla dabbla, stop!"
He is looking directly at me with eyes of decadence.
"Nothing."
He starts laughing, laughing, laughing till his laughter turned to tears.
I just couldn't say it. I had to leave.
Laughter Turned To Tears (1986)
CHAPTER ONE: A MILLION KILOS OF CONFETTI
- The Ignorant and The Divine
In any important role, a line must be drawn between the absolute and the excess, the worthy and the weak, the ignorant and the divine. The time we waste lessens the grief we seek and all the animals weep for love. It is not our lot to scream the injustice because the crime is still just a dime a dozen, a life in shambles, a rude answer on the wall. All will not be lost though, so don't give up the fight (right after these commercial messages). The definitive is not always the one, a one, one more of these and all is done. Raise your faces to the sun because you are god.
-Jan. 28/1986
Toronto, Canada.
I took a look at it once but wasn't quite sure if I had read it right so I looked again.
"What do you think?" He was standing there like some exquisite being from somewhere out there. His handwriting was disgusting and his grin was worse. "Well?"
I held it up to him and shook my head. "Sir ... " but I was lost for words.
"Ya, ya, so what is it?
"Umm ... you wrote this, right?" He nods his head.
"And… uh, the ideas transformed onto this ... this, uh masterpiece are entirely yours?"
Again he repeats the motion with that round thing on his shoulders.
"What the hell does it mean?"
He seems stunned - like as if a million kilos of confetti had just fallen on top of him.
I just couldn't help it. I had to leave.
CHAPTER TWO: THE ELEVENTH
- A Mystery of Fate
For the only reason anyone ever cries, for the truth that is so desperately sought (vainly bought), for the essence of being and the bouquet of roses, for the altar, for the weight of a guilt ladened conscience, for the easy answers, the easy lies, for the visions gained and the sweetly sung lullabies - dark and evil and stinking of burnt flesh, for the mysteries of fate and the illusion of its passing, for you (as god) and I (as you), for just one damned second of pleasure, we search for love.
-Jan. 28/1986
Toronto, Canada.
I could have just ignored him when he approached. I could have just walloped him one also. I was sure this wasn't as it seemed. What I wasn't sure of was...
"What do you figure it means?"
...was what the hell it meant. I stammered for a bit, bit the bullet with both teeth, bought tea with both feet, "Seethe here son," I said, "someday the world is going to catch up with you." I stunned myself with strange syntax and said, "Again."
He is on guard now, no doubt. "The eleventh."
He shakes his head in a desperately wild manner. It was like as if the negative was true.
I just couldn't believe it. I had to leave.
CHAPTER THREE: EYES OF DECADENCE
- To Be So Unsure
Not even as odd or the other side of the story or coin - this was won with the valor. And for what? With whose guidance? Under what context or pretext or any text from the book of love? Surely we don't regret. Surely we know we will die. So, not just with motive or plan, action or dissatisfaction- that was lost beyond all help. No, we needed more. Were we sure? Were we unsure? Were we? Are we? Are you? God plants His feet before you ... (She looks angry).
-Jan. 28/1986
Toronto, Canada.
I felt like I could cry. I wished he would up and die. I knew his game. It was the same as before... strange writing, devious grin, the obvious. I let time soak up a bit of the present then said, "Of course, the lunacy presents itself as just one of the boys."
"Yes, but..."
"And, the crap about love is a throw-you-off."
"Certainly, you romantic fool, but..."
I sway back and grunt loudly three times. "C-c-c ... dibbla dabbla, stop!"
He is looking directly at me with eyes of decadence.
"Nothing."
He starts laughing, laughing, laughing till his laughter turned to tears.
I just couldn't say it. I had to leave.