Wherever I tried to make strides in art, literature, acting or filming I was repulsed by a welter of circumstance that told me in subtle warnings I was ill.
I tried to heed these warnings but met with great resistance from the subconscious litanies of progress felling all discretion.
I was going somewhere I said.
Around April of ’81 there was talk of tearing down the house on North Park to build condos.
I made a sign that said, Let’s tear down City Hall instead, and put it on the front steps.
The house took on an amber quality, doomed in the shade of the same progress that was threatening to make my life an internal nightmare.
Guests were as frequent as ever.
Laura continued to deal hash from the upstairs bedroom.
Sandy had the antique shop on Yates St., Rena had her boyfriend Chris, Stephanie had the band…
I sat on the sofa listening to Blondie’s Autoamerica when there came a knock at the door, which proved to be my welfrare worker, telling me we could no longer go down “the endless road” together.
I said nothing about manic depression but made plans to go promptly to the States.
I invested in a pair of red pants and a red baseball jacket that had a large yellow crest advertizing the Skeena Cedar Kings.
I grew a goatee along the lines of the beard I had worn in Dracula.
DAVID BURKE: firstname.lastname@example.org
White Lies and Black Magic: A Manicdotal Memoir
Swan Road Publications: Telephone: 250 220 23 54
ROCKLAND – LA ROSA TRANSCULTURAL PACIFICAN HISTORY 1981 – 2010
edited by ‘Goyo de la Rosa’