You Know What We Need?
We need to figure out what to make of the next 1,826 days -- history -- voodoo -- Radio -- candor -- flora -- Luck -- sexy time -- We need to get back to writing, journalizing & corresponding -- We need to yell our passion for goggle tans -- But keep to Attention & Good Manners -- And always have a big towel, your train whistle, a sharpie & the gumption to build a pillow fort -- Zacolique, KatuStarcraft, Life in the Face & La Maison Rose -- Don't forget winter, not to mention actual snow please -- Rockies -- map -- catalogues -- Blizzards -- Canon G10 -- Vitamin b12 -- We certainly do need to share more -- And read more fiction!
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Did you know Paul? He was the youngest of the four Mathieu kids, and somehow became the fattest. He yelled the loudest! Ate the most! The only thing missing at his life’s celebration was his loud, rambunctious voice booming around the room. All my cousins heard its absence. He drank like a freaking fish, always had a beer ready for anyone. Sometimes he made about 200 mini Blood Caesars with a shrimp in each shot glass for a Christmas appetizer. And he made the most fantastic pizzas! I ate most of the prosciutto from Paul’s Pizzeria before they even saw the dough though…
Paul was so strong that he used to throw Annie & I up and catch us coming down. Until we were 12-years-old I think. He’d get it maybe six times in a row until we’d hit our heads on the ceiling and my mom forced him to stop. He loved us more than he loved himself.
And that was his tragedy. His severe discontent, his self-agonizing judgement on himself and those close to him. Paul always had trouble being happy… The gifts of a critic were his: an editor of unsurpassed skill in English & French, his taste in books ranged from Lone Sloane comics to Fyodor Dostoevsky, his unending bitch against some things everyone else accepted. He made noise alright!
My first comic books were from mononcle. Astérix le gaulois & Tintin & Gotlib! He made me love the things I love today. When he was in his teens, the local newspaper went under. He stole one of the dispensers with the last copy still in it. I always wanted his newspaper bedside table… I’ll always remember visiting his room of books & papers, where we laughed & cried.
Paul Mathieu, fuck I miss you man. You were my favourite. Thanks for the guns, especially the psychological ones.
“In the end they’ll judge me anyway, so whatever.” Hehe.
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