May 29, 2023 10:54pm

Sitting here in Al’s writing shed, I feel dwarfed by the giants all around.  Balzac’s complete work all 21 volumes, screams insults at me, Fredrick Nietzsche and D.H. Lawrence click their tongues – the ‘I am not worthy’ weight sits lead like to my left hand side, I stick my tongue out 21 times in that general direction. Honestly it is hard to focus on purpose and needy ideas, with all the added pressure, “could you guys just tone it down a little?”

It is a very complex feeling showing up 23 years after the fact, after all those eulogies on Sex and Death, the sensitive man and his tens thousands of words written right here.  Last night I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if this was his actual bed, as I am the same height as Al, 6’2”, well I think I have shrunk and inch actually, but never mind – did his feet hang of the edge of the bed as mine do? And how about that massive nail right there in the ceiling sticking out 4”, what was that for?

Three separate walls of books I pluck and replace, moving my finger across the spines. So many of them have lived other lives, but my favorites are the titles that at one time have been the property of other public libraries – like the copy of Leonard Cohen’s The Favorite Game – Property of the Picton Public Library, this one even has library rules pasted on the flyleaf and a book number, C677f. Don’t worry it was cancelled and sold for 25 cents, or one paperback with a stamp from the ‘Manpower Retaining Program’ Belleville Ontario. Today I came across a little chapbook titled Studies in Canadian Literature Al Purdy written by his friend and fellow poet George Bowering inside the inscription, “for my ol Pal Al, Dec ‘70”. In many there are cards from the bookshops they where purchased at.

Why do I find this sort of mostly useless, but highly specific tiny morsels of information so interesting? Well partially, my particular brain type – but mostly it is these, back of the painting inform/ations or LP Liner notes, that serve as way finding, context providing – all you library and archivists nerds out there know EXACTLY what I mean – right?  It takes everything I have not to take every single last book off the shelves, then systematically paging through each one trying to find – that thing.  That something I missed, the, “ hello I’m Al, pleasure to meet you Paul, care for a beer?”  So I look everywhere, the worn groove from the window opening crank, the odd bamboo handled grapefruit spoon, the handsaw marks on the kitchen shelves, the ware stains and dents in the kitchen table, The Loyalist Collage Oktoberfest commemorative mug 1977 and the prices paid top right corner of books from many other places. Not to mention all the recycled materials Al and Eurithe salvaged from school demolitions, old boxcars, and the giant lakeside window, the space itself, “pleasure to meet you too Al, yes I’d love one.”

Oh and yes, the June bugs in all their dopey glory arrived last night, bashing repeatedly into the walls and recovering enmasse on the screen door, I turn the light out and go inside.