My Turn

You can't appreciate Joel Plaskett's hair of today until you see his hair of yesterday.


I'm helping Turpin do a play with the kids in Placenta.
I haven't met them yet.
I'm anticipating disappointment.
They probably are too.
Turpin wrote the play and I edited it here and there.
Our first project!
Years from now, when we're writing films for Zach Galafanakis-
("He ate all of the danishes off of the snack table. Again!")-
We'll think back to this play for the Placenta drama team...
And then we'll go right back to being tremendously drunk.
"Get in the shopping cart, Zach! This is gonna be awesome.
Zach! Where's he going? Zach!? Get in the shopping cart!"

I can't remember the last time I had a heart-to-heart with someone.
That's a lie.
I remember my last heart-to-heart perfectly.
Well, by 'perfectly' I mean I can remember who the person was.
Where it was.
Mark what's his face (I can't remember his last name).
Does that mean I actually can't remember who the person was?
I'd be able to pick him out of a Mark lineup.
He used to play 'Message in a Bottle" at Bruno's.
That's the place that had the Reuben sandwiches.
I lost one once.
Anyway.
In Banff.
He just started speaking to me one night about...whatever.
He probably wasn't even there to see me.
He was probably there to do drugs with someone.
And he just started telling me things.
About his childhood and upbringing.
His decisions after school and why he made them.
Things he'd never mentioned to anyone.
And as he's telling me all of this he's saying,
"I don't know why I'm telling you all of this."
But it wasn't a surprise to me.
Much like myself with dogs (remind me to talk about that later).
People used to open up to me like that all of the time.
Because I was easy to talk to.
I used to hear that all of the time, too.
"You're easy to talk to."
I can't remember the last time someone told me that.
I'm not easy to talk to any more.
I suppose it's because I'm not listening.
People assume I've never been listening.
Because I can't remember.
But that's because I can't remember.
I'm still not a good rememberer.
But I used to be attentive.
Maybe that's why people used to tell me stuff all of the time.
Because I wouldn't remember where they said that they stashed the diamonds.
So it was okay to tell me where their 'wicked hiding place' was.
Really it's because I used to like people back then.
And they could figure that out for themselves.
But I stopped liking people during my time there.
Because no one is meant to habitate in a tourist town.
Entire families wearing matching Crocs while eating matching ice cream cones.
Three rubes standing immediately in front of an escalator or stairwell.
Talking about how many pictures they've taken so far.
I used to always see the good in people.
Even if I was dealing with someone who irked the shit out of me.
"Sure, he's irritating.
But he's probably suicidal, so he's not so bad."
...
Maybe I just need to go to more parties.

In my youth I used to fantasize about meeting everyone in the world.
Shake hands, say hello, move on to the next person in the gas station.
I was too shitty at math to realize that billions of people were too many.
I wouldn't have enough time to pull it off.
Regardless, that's a true anecdote.
I envisioned this as a sort of pilgrimage.
We used to have this substitute teacher named Miss Bennett.
She was amazing because she wouldn't feed us lies like everyone else.
Most thought she was 'burnt' because she claimed to see letters-
and people-
in colours.
I thought it was fine and probably lovely to see people that way.
She was just picking the wrong hues to mention it to.
She took over for my literature teacher halfway through the year.
Presumably because my lit teacher had some sort of a breakdown.
During parent-teacher getting in trouble night, mom and dad spoke with her.
"Here's what I can tell you about Paul:
Paul loves school.
Paul loves life.
Paul will be fine at whatever he does."
She was right at the time.
And that's it.