The exercise:
All right, let's finish off Hindsight.
Over to you, Greg.
Showing posts with label Hindsight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hindsight. Show all posts
Thursday November 19th, 2020
The exercise:
I think it makes sense, timing wise, to return to Hindsight today.
Having just finally added to October's entry, I'll take second turn again this month and aim for mid-December for the finale. I'll see if it makes sense for me to go first or second at that point.
Monday October 26th, 2020
The exercise:
Let us get to the October edition of Hindsight before the month runs out.
And as a birthday present to myself, I'll let Greg go first this month, with a solemn promise that I will follow before the week is out.
Wednesday September 16th, 2020
The exercise:
Some September Hindsight is on the table today.
Along with lots of grumpy people in town, apparently.
I actually told someone to kiss my ass as they were storming out of town hall this morning, which I think sums up the day pretty well. I guess all this smoke is getting to people.
Mine:
"Blood?" I asked, an involuntary step back putting a bit of space between us. Georgina laughed and closed the distance smoothly. I was still feeling wary but relaxed at her touch - relaxed enough to remember that blood offerings at Shinto shrines were not out of the ordinary. "I mean, right, blood."
"Just a little bit," she said with another tension erasing laugh. "Come on."
Georgina led and I followed in a daze that I blamed on the concussion. Looking back now, I suppose I should have suspected something. But give me a break, okay? It's not like I'd ever even gone to see a hypnotist, much less met one. And Georgina wasn't exactly dangling a pocket watch in front of my face and telling me I was feeling sleepy, all right?
I mean, just go ahead and try to convince me that you've heard of someone being literally hypnotized by somebody's laugh. What's that? Yeah, that's what I thought. So put that judge's wig and robe back in your dress up closet or Tickle Trunk or whatever you keep your very grown up and not at all juvenile costumes in - I'm speaking from experience here, obviously - and let me get on with my story.
"Give me your hand," she said, producing a blade from somewhere on her person. Which, okay, more than a little suspicious. But then she laughed again, seemingly at the expression on my face, and I held out my hand to her. "There we go. It's too late to turn back now."
Even to my muddled mind that sounded anonymous.
No. Omnivore?
That isn't it either.
Ominous! Nailed it.
"What does that mean?" I asked as she laid the blade against my wrist. I didn't even blink as I watched her. "Too late to turn back from what?"
"When a sacrifice is demanded," Georgina said, all signs of laughter and innocent mischief having suddenly vanished, "a sacrifice is given."
Sunday August 30th, 2020
The exercise:
Another late in the month edition of Hindsight, coming right up.
Mine:
I woke alone in a hospital room, though it took several minutes for me to figure that out. Sure, the IV drip and beeping machine to my left should have made my location pretty clear pretty quick but in my defence I wasn't even aware that I had already been diagnosed with yet another concussion.
It wasn't long after understanding dawned and a partial memory of the events that led me to my current situation returned that a young Japanese nurse entered the room. She smiled kindly as she checked my vitals and I watched her in silence until my eyes fell on her name badge.
"Georgina?" I rasped, then fell into a coughing fit. I clearly had not spoken or had anything to drink in a while. Once I'd regained some semblance of control she handed me a paper cup filled with water and watched me drink.
"My great-grandmother's name," she told me after I handed the cup back. Her English was flawless. My addled brain was having a lot of trouble processing this woman. "On my father's side - he's American."
"Oh," I said, not knowing what other response was appropriate. At least I didn't start coughing again.
"How's your head doing?"
"Slowly," I said and she laughed. I scowled. I wasn't trying to be funny, just accurate.
"Well, from what I understand, you did hit your head pretty hard," Georgina said, then added with a wink: "Chasing after girls, I hear."
"Just the one," I said, closing my eyes with a sigh. "Away from the other."
"Popular boy," she said with another laugh. I was beginning to like her laugh, for all that it hurt my brain to hear it at the time. "Will one of these girls be coming to take you home?"
I thought about that for a few seconds. "I doubt it."
"Well we can't let you leave the hospital unless you have someone to monitor you, to make sure your symptoms aren't getting worse."
"Well then," I said, the words inching their way out of my mouth as the waking world began to go dark, "I guess you're stuck with me."
Wednesday July 22nd, 2020
The exercise:
Better late than never... Hindsight!
Mine:
The journey from Montreal to Tokyo was long. Like, really long. Like after three flights and a day and a half of travel I would have been hard pressed to tell you where I was, when I was, or even who I was.
Philadelphia seemed like a nice city I'd like to come back and visit once life had settled down a little bit, at least from what I could see as we landed and then, two hours later, took off again. The airport, on the other hand, I could have happily skipped. But they wouldn't let me stay on the plane - even though I was super sleepy and very politely offered to sleep wherever would be most out of their way during the layover - so I had to deal with the crowded terminal.
At least I got to spend the night in Dallas. I mean I mostly spent it asleep in a hotel room but I did manage to squeeze a trip into the city for breakfast. The eggs were good, the toast disappointing, and the coffee badly needed. It was also powerful enough to keep me awake for most of the nearly thirteen hour flight to Tokyo.
Which was especially appreciated, because it gave me plenty of time to make small talk with one of the flight attendants. Her name was Melina and she was generous with the wine and her time. She had silky black hair done up in a ponytail and dark eyes I kept losing myself in. Her smile was sweet with a hint of mischief and, well, I'm a bit of a sucker for mischief, I think I've established that already.
I'd lucked into having two empty seats next to me and we talked long enough that she had to sit down for a while. I tried to get her to watch a movie with me - let me tell you, I went hard on selling the praises of Shrek 2 - but she had to get back to work even though everybody else on the plane seemed to be sleeping at that point.
She did come back to see me shortly before we landed though, telling me that she had a couple days off before having to fly out again so maybe she could show me around a bit, share some of the places that only flight crews knew about.
I could hardly say no to any of that, right? So of course I said yes. I'm not an idiot.
It's not like I knew we'd run into Nina at the very first bar Melina took me to...
Sunday June 14th, 2020
The exercise:
Hindsight, June Edition.
Mine:
I woke up, back next to the phone again, in a fog of black smoke. My head hurt, from where it had hit the wall, and my chest and arms and legs hurt from where the chairs had hit them. It took a few seconds for me to remember what had happened.
Well, what was still happening. There was a heck of a lot of smoke in that suite.
"Serena?"
When she didn't answer I thought for sure she was dead. Or at the very least unconscious. I managed to get to my hands and knees and crawled around looking for her. After checking everywhere she could have reasonably been, I headed for the door. By that point, between the smoke and the alarm and where I'd hit my head, I was starting to feel genuinely horrible.
I don't think I even really noticed that the door was already open.
There was still smoke in the hallway, but not as intense as in the suite. I used the door knob on the room opposite ours to haul myself to my feet. People were coming out of their rooms and running for the stairwell and so I, not having anything better to do, followed. But like, not running. It was more of a sliding my shoulder along the wall in a dazed shuffle.
I'd like to think the trail of blood I left in my wake saved at least a few lives. Kinda like how we'd mark trees in the woods when we were kids so that we could find our way back. Except that time we lost Ricky because it got dark and he... well, I mean I guess that was more about the bear than us forgetting to mark a few trees.
Anyway.
As people pushed and shoved their way down the stairs there was a lot of talk. Panicky nonsense, mostly, but what I remember most were the other people who had come from our old hotel. A few said it in a what a crazy world kind of way. One lady said it in a very, very angry kind of way. Most of them, though, said it in a very superstitious kind of way.
No. Suspicious. That's how they said it.
Whatever way they said it, they were all saying the same thing:
Another fire? What are the chances?
And, well, that got me to thinking...
Sunday May 17th, 2020
The exercise:
May we have Hindsight?
Yes, we May.
Mine:
So Quebec City with Serena was fun for the first week. She taught me all sorts of things to say in French - most of which earned me odd looks from the locals, but I think that was just because my accent wasn't very good.
We ate a lot of good food at a lot of fancy restaurants. Serena kept insisting that we tell each place that it was one of our birthdays so that we'd get free desserts with lit candles on them. I went along with it because, to be honest, that was something I always wanted to do - I just never had a girl that was willing to do it with me. Until Serena.
Toward the end of the second week, though, things started to be less fun. Serena would get upset any time I tried making plans for after we got back home. I thought she just wanted to live in the moment, to be in Quebec City right up until we weren't in Quebec City anymore. Which, hey, right on, you know?
But then on what was supposed to be our second last night there, her brother's car was stolen. The police found it the next day in the parking lot of an abandoned factory, burned to a crisp. And I thought maybe we might be stuck there for a little longer than expected, and maybe I should call the nursing home to let them know what was going on.
And that was right around the time the fireworks incident happened.
May we have Hindsight?
Yes, we May.
Mine:
So Quebec City with Serena was fun for the first week. She taught me all sorts of things to say in French - most of which earned me odd looks from the locals, but I think that was just because my accent wasn't very good.
We ate a lot of good food at a lot of fancy restaurants. Serena kept insisting that we tell each place that it was one of our birthdays so that we'd get free desserts with lit candles on them. I went along with it because, to be honest, that was something I always wanted to do - I just never had a girl that was willing to do it with me. Until Serena.
Toward the end of the second week, though, things started to be less fun. Serena would get upset any time I tried making plans for after we got back home. I thought she just wanted to live in the moment, to be in Quebec City right up until we weren't in Quebec City anymore. Which, hey, right on, you know?
But then on what was supposed to be our second last night there, her brother's car was stolen. The police found it the next day in the parking lot of an abandoned factory, burned to a crisp. And I thought maybe we might be stuck there for a little longer than expected, and maybe I should call the nursing home to let them know what was going on.
And that was right around the time the fireworks incident happened.
Monday April 13th, 2020
The exercise:
Hindsight, the April edition.
Mine:
Serena was real classy for a Red Lobster waitress. That might seem like a mean qualifier, but it's the truth. In my experience, at least. I mean, the two other girls working that night were smoking and flipping through old issues of the National Enquirer and gabbing back and forth about how they would bag a Hemsworth if one of them would only come in for mozzarella cheesesticks.
And that's not even getting into Justina and Katrina, both of whom I dated in high school and both, as I later found out, waited tables at Red Lobster. At the same time. As I was dating both of them.
Yeah, that didn't turn out so well for me either.
Anyway. Back to Serena. Classy. All the way. She had a library card and even used it regularly. She liked watching travel shows and documentaries. She even taught me what birding was, which was a revolution for sure.
I think I did it again. One sec. I need to look that up... okay, yeah, I meant revelation.
She was the one that got me hooked on the idea of Tokyo, though it would take another year before I started working at TechMoe Bowls, the high tech company that would eventually send me to Japan to help establish a new chain of bowling alleys. Moe Mooney was the guy in charge and he paid me better than anyone ever had before. Or since, now that I...
Shoot, got distracted again. Right, Serena.
That night Dina walked out on who she thought was Curtis, Serena sat with me while I ate chicken fingers and fries and gave me so many free Cokes that I had to use the bathroom three times before I left (and then again in the bushes on the way home).
She was real sweet with me that night, and even gave me her number so that I could call her the next day. And I was smitten, there's no denying it. Why wouldn't I be with a girl like that?
I mean, how was I supposed to know about her, uh, tendency towards burning things? And no, her putting lit birthday candles on each of my chicken fingers - when it very much was not my birthday - was not a tell, okay?
Hindsight, the April edition.
Mine:
Serena was real classy for a Red Lobster waitress. That might seem like a mean qualifier, but it's the truth. In my experience, at least. I mean, the two other girls working that night were smoking and flipping through old issues of the National Enquirer and gabbing back and forth about how they would bag a Hemsworth if one of them would only come in for mozzarella cheesesticks.
And that's not even getting into Justina and Katrina, both of whom I dated in high school and both, as I later found out, waited tables at Red Lobster. At the same time. As I was dating both of them.
Yeah, that didn't turn out so well for me either.
Anyway. Back to Serena. Classy. All the way. She had a library card and even used it regularly. She liked watching travel shows and documentaries. She even taught me what birding was, which was a revolution for sure.
I think I did it again. One sec. I need to look that up... okay, yeah, I meant revelation.
She was the one that got me hooked on the idea of Tokyo, though it would take another year before I started working at TechMoe Bowls, the high tech company that would eventually send me to Japan to help establish a new chain of bowling alleys. Moe Mooney was the guy in charge and he paid me better than anyone ever had before. Or since, now that I...
Shoot, got distracted again. Right, Serena.
That night Dina walked out on who she thought was Curtis, Serena sat with me while I ate chicken fingers and fries and gave me so many free Cokes that I had to use the bathroom three times before I left (and then again in the bushes on the way home).
She was real sweet with me that night, and even gave me her number so that I could call her the next day. And I was smitten, there's no denying it. Why wouldn't I be with a girl like that?
I mean, how was I supposed to know about her, uh, tendency towards burning things? And no, her putting lit birthday candles on each of my chicken fingers - when it very much was not my birthday - was not a tell, okay?
Monday March 9th, 2020
The exercise:
Let us dabble in a little more Hindsight.
Mine:
Bobo - not his real name, that's just what I called him... unless it was, but then he never told me otherwise, so who knows? - was not the worst roommate I'd ever had. The fact that he never talked was a big plus in my books. I enjoyed the quiet, which mostly rained supreme whether he was around or not.
Rained? No, that can't be right. Snowed? Snowed supreme. That's got a nice ring to it.
Anyway. I say 'mostly' because he wasn't completely silent, on account of those giant red and blue and brown (that might just have been dirt though) clown shoes of his. That he never seemed to take off. I guess they were his only footwear? Maybe I should be grateful he kept them on, actually - could you imagine the smell of his feet when he finally squelched out of them?
I'm getting distracted again. Mr. Hunter in 4th grade always said that I couldn't focus worth a damn. And I always said that a 4th grade teacher shouldn't be using them sorts of words in front of 4th graders. I'd like to say we agreed to disagree but...
Right. Bobo. In his defence, I don't think I could have walked around our place wearing oversized shoes without kicking things over neither. At least he usually picked things back up, or returned them to the piles he'd scattered. And when he didn't it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that he hadn't even realized he'd made contact with this lamp or that can of open paint.
By now you've probably got to wondering about that whole 'homeless' thing I mentioned earlier, and how I didn't know or whatever. Well, I did figure it out, thank you very much.
It just took me a bit.
I mean, how was I to know the bank was rejecting his rent payments because he didn't have a, you know, bank account? I just thought they couldn't read his signature, what with it being such a messy scrawl thanks to his big ol' clown gloves. And the fat red felt marker he used for everything. That's reasonable, right?
Okay, so maybe it should have dawned on me what the actual problem was a little sooner than five months down the road, but in my defence, I had other things to worry about at the time.
Like Serena.
Let us dabble in a little more Hindsight.
Mine:
Bobo - not his real name, that's just what I called him... unless it was, but then he never told me otherwise, so who knows? - was not the worst roommate I'd ever had. The fact that he never talked was a big plus in my books. I enjoyed the quiet, which mostly rained supreme whether he was around or not.
Rained? No, that can't be right. Snowed? Snowed supreme. That's got a nice ring to it.
Anyway. I say 'mostly' because he wasn't completely silent, on account of those giant red and blue and brown (that might just have been dirt though) clown shoes of his. That he never seemed to take off. I guess they were his only footwear? Maybe I should be grateful he kept them on, actually - could you imagine the smell of his feet when he finally squelched out of them?
I'm getting distracted again. Mr. Hunter in 4th grade always said that I couldn't focus worth a damn. And I always said that a 4th grade teacher shouldn't be using them sorts of words in front of 4th graders. I'd like to say we agreed to disagree but...
Right. Bobo. In his defence, I don't think I could have walked around our place wearing oversized shoes without kicking things over neither. At least he usually picked things back up, or returned them to the piles he'd scattered. And when he didn't it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that he hadn't even realized he'd made contact with this lamp or that can of open paint.
By now you've probably got to wondering about that whole 'homeless' thing I mentioned earlier, and how I didn't know or whatever. Well, I did figure it out, thank you very much.
It just took me a bit.
I mean, how was I to know the bank was rejecting his rent payments because he didn't have a, you know, bank account? I just thought they couldn't read his signature, what with it being such a messy scrawl thanks to his big ol' clown gloves. And the fat red felt marker he used for everything. That's reasonable, right?
Okay, so maybe it should have dawned on me what the actual problem was a little sooner than five months down the road, but in my defence, I had other things to worry about at the time.
Like Serena.
Thursday February 6th, 2020
The exercise:
I think it's time for another dose of Hindsight.
Mine:
The firefighters showed up just before Dad did, which explains why I'm still alive to tell the tale. I guess they saw smoke, or somebody with a direct line to Chief Aidan did, so I'd stuffed my cell in my back pocket and tried to get as many men (and two, I'd discover later - but that's another story altogether - women) between me and my apologetic father.
No, wait. That ain't the right word.
Apoplectic. Yeah, that's the one.
"What... the hell... did you do?!?" he'd shouted, his face pretty much the same colour as the firetruck.
"I didn't do nothing! I just opened my suitcase and the damned thing blew up on me!"
Even amidst the chaos of his crew trying to stop the spread of flames from igniting all of Thunder Bay and burning the whole city to the ground, Chief Aidan paused to give me a withering stare. He pointed a stubby finger at me as if to say 'I'll be talking at you later, so don't get any ideas about going nowhere any time soon.' That man may have been well shy of six feet tall, but he had awfully talkative fingers.
In retrospect, I should have just blamed the whole mess on the snakes.
"You packed a bomb?!?" Dad was incredible at this point. No. Incredulous.
"Of course I didn't!" I yelled back. "Nina did!" Slight pause to consider that, now that I'd sad it aloud. "Or maybe it was Gina!" That seemed... a little more likely?
"You dumb sack of rocks! You brought a Chinese bomb into my house?!?"
"How many times do I gotta tell you, Dad? Tokyo is in Japan, not Ch-"
You know, just to look at him? I don't think most people would think my dad could throw an axe that far. I know he sure as hell caught the firefighters who were standing uneasily between us up until that point by surprise.
Anyway, that was about when somebody decided it would be everybody's best interest to get me the hell out of there. The last I saw of Dad - which is still true today, actually, seeing as I haven't seen him since - he was fighting to get the fire hose away from four of Chief Aidan's crew so that he could turn it on me, instead of his own home.
I think it's time for another dose of Hindsight.
Mine:
The firefighters showed up just before Dad did, which explains why I'm still alive to tell the tale. I guess they saw smoke, or somebody with a direct line to Chief Aidan did, so I'd stuffed my cell in my back pocket and tried to get as many men (and two, I'd discover later - but that's another story altogether - women) between me and my apologetic father.
No, wait. That ain't the right word.
Apoplectic. Yeah, that's the one.
"What... the hell... did you do?!?" he'd shouted, his face pretty much the same colour as the firetruck.
"I didn't do nothing! I just opened my suitcase and the damned thing blew up on me!"
Even amidst the chaos of his crew trying to stop the spread of flames from igniting all of Thunder Bay and burning the whole city to the ground, Chief Aidan paused to give me a withering stare. He pointed a stubby finger at me as if to say 'I'll be talking at you later, so don't get any ideas about going nowhere any time soon.' That man may have been well shy of six feet tall, but he had awfully talkative fingers.
In retrospect, I should have just blamed the whole mess on the snakes.
"You packed a bomb?!?" Dad was incredible at this point. No. Incredulous.
"Of course I didn't!" I yelled back. "Nina did!" Slight pause to consider that, now that I'd sad it aloud. "Or maybe it was Gina!" That seemed... a little more likely?
"You dumb sack of rocks! You brought a Chinese bomb into my house?!?"
"How many times do I gotta tell you, Dad? Tokyo is in Japan, not Ch-"
You know, just to look at him? I don't think most people would think my dad could throw an axe that far. I know he sure as hell caught the firefighters who were standing uneasily between us up until that point by surprise.
Anyway, that was about when somebody decided it would be everybody's best interest to get me the hell out of there. The last I saw of Dad - which is still true today, actually, seeing as I haven't seen him since - he was fighting to get the fire hose away from four of Chief Aidan's crew so that he could turn it on me, instead of his own home.
Wednesday January 15th, 2020
The exercise:
In 2013 we went to Mejaran. 2014 brought us Vancouver Irrealis. 2015 took us to The Colony. 2016 was spent at House of Mercy. 2017 was the year of The Dream Kingdom. In 2018 we created Empires. 2019 took a different path with the A Robot and Its Master poem, along with monthly revisitations to all the previous stories.
Now, we have reached 2020's turn. And it simply makes sense to make this the year of Hindsight.
Yes, I waited three years to make use of this theme. You're welcome.
Mine:
Looking back now, standing here amidst the rubble of it all, everything is so crystal clear that it pains me to examine it. Like staring at the sun. If the sun was a giant, burning reminder of all the mistakes I made, just hanging in the sky, day after day, for the whole world to see.
It's easy to spot the things I would have done differently. All the no's that should have been yes's. All the yes's that should have been no's. The lefts that should have been rights, and rights left. The steps forward that should have been panicked backpedalling.
Regrets? Yeah, I've got a few. What happened between me and Nina is up there, near the top of the list. If not the top. Agreeing to the work trip to Tokyo... bloody hell, what was I thinking? That had no chance of turning out well - an unmitigated disaster was the safe bet there. And yet... off I went, suitcase in hand, English to Japanese dictionary in my back pocket, and an understanding of the culture that began and ended with sushi.
The stuff with my father... yeah. Maybe we'll talk to each other again. Time heals all wounds, right? Probably not though. Burning down his house is a bit of a deal breaker, and ain't nobody cares that it was an accident. At the end of the day there's no difference between accidental ashes and intentional ashes.
Yup, it's been a tough couple of years. I'm not looking to host no pity party though. I just... I dunno. Maybe by examining what went wrong I can do better next time.
Well, I mean, I sure hope I'll never again be faced with having to choose between a homeless clown and a reformed serial killer for a roommate. But, you know, if I am?
I'd definitely give the ex-serial killer a chance.
In 2013 we went to Mejaran. 2014 brought us Vancouver Irrealis. 2015 took us to The Colony. 2016 was spent at House of Mercy. 2017 was the year of The Dream Kingdom. In 2018 we created Empires. 2019 took a different path with the A Robot and Its Master poem, along with monthly revisitations to all the previous stories.
Now, we have reached 2020's turn. And it simply makes sense to make this the year of Hindsight.
Yes, I waited three years to make use of this theme. You're welcome.
Mine:
Looking back now, standing here amidst the rubble of it all, everything is so crystal clear that it pains me to examine it. Like staring at the sun. If the sun was a giant, burning reminder of all the mistakes I made, just hanging in the sky, day after day, for the whole world to see.
It's easy to spot the things I would have done differently. All the no's that should have been yes's. All the yes's that should have been no's. The lefts that should have been rights, and rights left. The steps forward that should have been panicked backpedalling.
Regrets? Yeah, I've got a few. What happened between me and Nina is up there, near the top of the list. If not the top. Agreeing to the work trip to Tokyo... bloody hell, what was I thinking? That had no chance of turning out well - an unmitigated disaster was the safe bet there. And yet... off I went, suitcase in hand, English to Japanese dictionary in my back pocket, and an understanding of the culture that began and ended with sushi.
The stuff with my father... yeah. Maybe we'll talk to each other again. Time heals all wounds, right? Probably not though. Burning down his house is a bit of a deal breaker, and ain't nobody cares that it was an accident. At the end of the day there's no difference between accidental ashes and intentional ashes.
Yup, it's been a tough couple of years. I'm not looking to host no pity party though. I just... I dunno. Maybe by examining what went wrong I can do better next time.
Well, I mean, I sure hope I'll never again be faced with having to choose between a homeless clown and a reformed serial killer for a roommate. But, you know, if I am?
I'd definitely give the ex-serial killer a chance.
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