Did you think you could hold us down? Did you think I was
getting old, tired, frightened, and lazied by everything
around the corner: by what could pop out at me from the
opening of some train station; that the train platform itself
could collapse; that the phone ringing from your pocket
could be the worst thing you could imagine (okay, I am still
afraid of the phone); that some small slight could stop
what is our fate, our destiny...did you think you could
derail that? Did you want to watch us surrender, go under
for the third and final time? Did you think that? Did you
think you could hold us down?
Darren is in Yellowknife taking
shit from me and freezing his ass off. Stephen
is in Seoul being a rockstar. Megan
is next door. Matthew is upstairs.
Craig is going to Toronto
alone. Nick is in Europe,
no doubt, not alone. Jeff is curt
in PEI. Lee is doing a nickel
in a medium security mansion. (Who knows where Kelly
is? Chasing down the streets of Paris?
Eating hot dogs in California?)
But they are all here together, right now, forever. This
is what this magazine has given me. And on this magazine's
birthday, they are who I offer to you by way of celebration.
Thank you for reading.
Looking for pictures tonight I found this one of you going
up the stairs at my place. You were walking away. We have
about 48 hours before we are scheduled to turn in the book.
It's hard not to talk to you. Hard to know that the field
between us is this immense, untreatable and littered with
remorse or indifference or what? But I read this quote the
other day, can't remember who said it, but it made me think
of you...hard times ain't quit, and we ain't quit.
Did you think you could hold us down? Did you think this
would come to an end? Did you think just because we sleep
late in the afternoon and don't get up and move around when
you think we should we were broken or beaten? Did you think
because we weren't being paid we would stop believing, bleeding?
Did you know I talked to bp Nichol's widow today? And that
she smiled at me through the phone and it surprised me and
I knew, fuck, I was more certain than ever before, that
this train is riding on rails far more secure than you could
see from the outside? That this is a magazine that learns
and leans and falls in love and backs itself into corners,
and comes out, and will never give up? Do you see in my
eyes that I am not going anywhere? That I am not alone?
That Mike over there will kick awake soon and smile? That
Matt will be down later and we will get back to work? Did
you know any of that? Do you see in our eyes that we are
serious and unbowed? Did
you think you could hold us down?
likes all kinds of people, music, books and movies. He likes
to sing out loud to the Beatles "White Album",
he thinks Markus Naslund is the best hockey player in the
entire world and, somehow, that there is still a decent
chance for peace, and for rapprochement.
Forget Magazine began two years ago today. Valentine's
Day 2001: in an apartment I shared with Blair and Trevor,
then Tyler on a perfect street in Charlottetown. Hence all
the fuss today.