a night with c.f.a.s

the shock that a week had gone the departure date was now closer than the arrival date had me a bit at ends as i had all these things that i had yet to do and more were being added.

ruth and peter were having friends over for a pot luck and invited me. they were all going to head to the folk festival in bannerman park afterwards. when i got the invite, i thought that this would impede on my travel plans. upon reflection the island would be there the invite wouldn’t.

saturday they were predicting rain and thunderstorms and in pouch it was raining when angela rang asking for george bush – like he’d know how to use a phone. i was invited to lunch at the duke because all night she fancied a guinness – the duke is open until 1am i believe. she’d talk to jim to see if he wanted to join us and to be there at one.

arrived at wordplay and met tj and his wife who had been looking at my snaps and wondered out loud – before i arrived – if i could photograph their daughter. told them that coming down the hill in prescott street the check engine light came on and stayed on. what should i do
-ignore it. they said in unison.

they seemed to like the image of heidi at the pipe house and took a snap of one of their customers.

went upstairs to check my e-mail and post the blog where i found this woman frantically talking on the phone at undrea’s desk. it seems that she was yet another ill prepared pipe house resident whose boyfriend sent her art supplies by bus from ontario to st. john’s. quite smart with all the water in between. so here she was at the pipe with ne’ery a brush. since jim told me that she was coming to lunch with us, i said that after lunch i would run her over to m francis kelly after i left some of the here and back announcements at eastern edge and st. michael’s print shop in fact she may want to try st. michael’s for paper.

worried that i would be late and incur the wrath of ange once again after blowing off her dinner party, raced over to the duke and was the first one there. in fact everyone was there before ange.

in ordering the spinach salad i asked if they put meat on it. being assured that they didn’t i had a spinach salad and a smithwick’s.

outside of the salad coming with bacon on it and me saying that i cannot eat that having it sent back and getting another. the lunch was fairly typical, ally came down from the bookstore, bolduc was up from biscay bay with two friends one catching a plane the next day – problem with living on the irish loop one has to get a room in st. john’s for the night to get to the airport on time. melony ward was in the gallery but declined to show up at the duke.

left to become a taxi again, st. michael’s had only printmaking paper – so over to m francis kelly warning her about the prices. and wondering about the thought patterns of people as this wasn’t her first time.

while she was pricing and fainting – the clerk brought up the weather and i had to excuse myself, head to the car get may camera and photograph her.

this is becoming harder and harder to do. i am now meeting more people than i can handle and in situations where i cannot make a decent photograph, the opening for example the duke after dark is not conducive to making snaps. this is not a conceptual exercise so the quality of the image is important. now even though i am among willing people the lighting situations make it difficult. right now i am running 50/50.

back to the gallery where is seemed that all the artists were down, since undrea was heading up for the week-end, she would ferry them as i was awaiting the hour that i could head up the road to ruth’s and peter’s.

walked slowly as it was only a half mile away. stopped for a mango ice cream at moo moo’s and ate it as slowly as possible. in truth i walked slowly as it was so sultry that simply moving had me break out in a sweat. i wanted to linger over the ice cream but the heat wouldn’t allow that.

i should be used to this after all it was only 28 laughable in the midwest in august but for some reason it felt just as unbearable.

even walking slowing up rennies mill road when i arrived i was dripping. luckily their place was cool and they served me plenty of water. they seemed quite taken aback that i didn’t drink any of the beer that i had brought but it was too hot. water however seemed to escape through my pores as soon as i drank it.

it was c.f.a. night in newfoundland. ruth is swiss, peter macedonian, others invited were polish, german, and other various upper canadians. they had all moved to the island and stayed – except one couple who were farmers in north east ontario who were visiting his brother who may have to move off island.

all were well read and well travelled they seemed like the annapolis group but on steroids.

peter asked if i knew any livyers. stated that most of the people i know are. it is the difference between living in the capital and living in a small town. most people in pouch go back generations – sharon is seventh generation pouch cove. he mother’s house overlooks the town. the same goes for the sullivans and the langmeads and the strugnells and…

they know c.f.as because being at the university there are a lot of people there for the position.

a good choice not to go to heart’s delight, heart’s desire and heart’s content via dildo.

the choice became better as while peter and i were debating on what is newfoundland, the folk festival replied for us. i was have expecting the folk festival to be a lot of fiddle music, which it wasn’t. when we arrive there was a cape bretoner playing a fiddle but after that – with the exception of one act – everyone broadened the idea of newfoundland music from the woman from placentia bay who wrote songs about contemporary concerns in french and english, to the band of new newfoundlanders from ghana who fused african and atlantic music. they drew the biggest dance crowd. then there was the big band ensemble where the sound wasn’t adjusted meaning that the saxophones were drowned out by the drummer who also sang and was the lyricist. his songs were long strings of clichés, with forced rhymes and overly repeated lines. i don’t think he was being ironic.

it was time to take leave. for once in a long time the ride back to pouch was pleasant – it was past midnight and route 20 was empty.

arriving i found chocolate chips biscuits in a bag on the door handle. it was my outport taxi payment.