Childhood anecdotes

A friend of mine asked if I could write to her in as much sensory detail some of the happier stories of my childhood. This has proven to be a really difficult task. Its not that I had an unhappy childhood, far from it, of course it had its lows, but I was a happy kid.

As far as writing exercises go, its much harder to capture the exact senses of being a child. I don't know how much I'd be projecting backwards onto my youth. I don't want to make this another rant, three days in a row. But I am really fascinated by Memory, maybe thats another theme. My favorite films all have to do with memory, Vertigo, La Jétée, The White Diamond. Same with books, South of the Border West of the Sun by Murakami (which I talked about a few posts back) is probably the best fiction I've ever that captures the ephemeral silver dust of memory that you can't quite express with pleasant anecdotes.

Anyways.

1) I was in Nova Scotia each summer. I remember having an albino rabbit, red eyes, big, that I loved. I called him Satan, kind of as a joke because of his red eyes, kind of a way of describing his uncontrollable way of being that made him different from the other rabbits. He was a wild Rabbit that I had trapped when I was learning how to make traps from nothing in order to catch food. I let him go, and he stayed with us, living underneath the house that I was staying at. I would see him running along the paths and hiding in the bushes. And sometimes he would sit around us while we worked outside. Even though he was wild, I always considered him my rabbit. The people that owned the house knew that I had some connection with this rabbit and told me that before I left back for Toronto at the end of the summer that I should catch him and keep him with the other rabbits that were relatively domesticated. They didn't do this because of some cruel need to domesticate animals, far from it, they knew that a big white rabbit sticks out like a sore thumb running through the fields in northern Cape Breton Island. Well, I told them that I'd rather not. The next year, when I was riding the train back to Nova Scotia, I lay up late at night thinking of the rabbit and wondering if he had survived the winter. Sure enough, 4 days later when I arrived, he was still there, the owners of the house had left out food for him, and he had lived under the house and in the area. He also had a number of children.

2) Each summer, my parents would take us out to see the Symphony of Fire from our boat. We would sail there, black clad ditto, out of Outer Harbour Marina near the Leslie Spit. I remember the cold winds, and I remember wearing my father's enormous jacket to keep the moist wind out. Once we'd get there, we'd anchor up among all the other boats. My brother and I played cards, 3-2-1, or the Chinese name, cho-die-di, chinese two man poker. As it got darker, they would shoot off a firework or two to signal how long until it began. During the performance, you could hear the classical music, to which they choreographed the fireworks performance, blasting from Ontario place. We would simultaneously be listening to it on the radio, well it would be better to say that it was never simultaneous. I remember being so fascinated by how sound traveled. Maybe for the first time it was so apparent to me. You could tell the distance between us and the shore by how long it took for the sound to catch up with the sound of the radio. Or each time a firework went off, the gap between when the firework exploded, dazzlingly bright, and the time its loud bang made it to you me almost able to feel the speed of sound. The largest fireworks near the end of the performance always highlighted this phenomena, a single huge firework sent as high as possible into the sky, always made the loudest bang and took the longest to reach my ears. After the the show, we'd sit and wait a while for the waters to clear up and make it easier to work our way home. The clouds of sulfur would waft towards us, blue and strong, it would pique my nose and make my eyes water. In the floodlights of the boats around us, blue triangles of smoke would extend off of each beam. In the illuminated smoke, you could see bits of fireworks and ash falling like black snow into the blacker water. After it cleared out a bit, my parents would start up the engine and motor home instead of sailing. My brother and I would sit on the front of the boat, wrapped in old sleeping bags as we cruised home around the island. We'd play cat's cradle since the wind from a moving boat made it impossible to play cards.

After writing it, I really liked this exercise, I guess, if you enjoyed reading this I could try another.

After reading my blog, I feel like all my writing is too self-centered. Even my fiction, if anyone knows me, is egocentric. I rarely write about other people, just myself. Sometimes I feel like you, reader, are my Herr Doctor, and i'm lying on my back rambling on about myself.

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P.s. There are a couple albums I've really been missing from my record collection that I had backed up onto my external hard drive that burnt out. If anyone has these albums can you megaupload/rapidshare/ftp them to me?

Au Pairs - Sense and Sensuality
Maximum Joy - Anthology (released by crippled dick hot wax)
Antena - anthology released by Numero
Bossa Nova, any/all of it.

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Oh, sister, when I come to knock on your door,
Don't turn away, you'll create sorrow.
Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore
You may not see me tomorrow.
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Cat Power - Oh, Sister / Knockin' On Heavens Door (Bob Dylan covers)
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The Album Leaf - Brennivin
Air - Cherry Blossom Girl
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Hyperballand (Bjork Cover) Lyrics (if you want to sing along and don't already know them by heart)