Heart of a Dog Page #5

---

That's what I think

is the creepiest thing about stories.

You try to get to the point

you're making...

usually about yourself

or something you learned...

and you get your story,

and you hold on to it,

and every time you tell it, you forget it

more.

For two years after Lolabelle's death,

I continued to get notifications

from a Facebook account

I didn't even know she had.

One of the things I did

to try to remember her

was make huge paintings,

imagining her 49 days in the bardo.

Most of the paintings

were full of wind and noise

and chaos and half-remembered songs.

# You were there dressed as a cat #

# Two French girls in Mexican hats #

# Never knew you could dance like that #

# Smoke was whirling I gave a shout #

# And that was when the fire broke out #

# I say uh-oh #

# Another fire #

# In dreamland #

# Just another fire #

# In dreamland ##

They die in the winter in Chicago.

The cold takes them away.

It sweeps in off the lake,

and off they go.

Has done for centuries now.

Some of them died

in the stockyards in Chicago

or in backyards

full of rusted jungle gyms

and old stoves and snow.

Some in overheated houses

out in the winter woods.

Others in their duck blinds

or in their leaking boats

when they sank

in one of the icy Great Lakes.

It was in the winter, last winter,

when I heard that my mother was dying.

And so I had to go,

and I was kind of worried.

So I talked to Father Pierre,

who's a priest,

a converted Egyptian Jew,

a playboy who loves elegant things

and has a book collection of 30,000 books.

And he's such a smart guy, and so I said,

"Listen, I have a really big problem.

I'm going to see my mother,

and she's dying,

but I don't love her."

And Father Pierre said, "Okay.

Well, just bring her some flowers

and tell her you've always

cared about her."

And I thought, "I can do that.

Besides, you really don't want

to lie to someone who's dying."

But when I got there,

they were rushing her around in a gurney.

And I didn't have time to get the flowers,

and it was loud and confusing,

and there wasn't a single moment to say,

"You know, I've always cared about you."

And then all of a sudden,

she was dead.

There's a Buddhist exercise

called the mother meditation,

and you use it

when you can't feel anything.

You try to find a single moment

when your mother truly loved you

without a single reservation.

And you focus on that moment.

And then you imagine

that you've been everyone's mother

and they've been yours.

And I looked and I looked for that moment,

but it just kept slipping away.

"So which way do we go? Thanks.

No, it's been... It's been a...

It's been a privilege, and you and your...

and your family and...

And just one more question.

Did you ever really love me?"

# I walk accompanied by ghosts #

# I walk accompanied by ghosts #

# My father with his diamond eyes #

# His voice life-size #

# He says, "Follow me #

# Follow me" #

# And I come sliding #

# Where I've been hiding #

# Out of the heart of a child #

# Meet me by the lake #

# Meet me by the lake #

# I'll be there #

# I'll be there ##

We lived by a lake,

and every winter it froze.

We skated everywhere.

One evening, I was coming home

from the movies,

and I was pushing

my little brothers Craig and Phil

in a stroller.

I had decided to take them

over to the island

to look at the moon

that was just coming up.

But as we got close to the island,

the ice broke

and the stroller sank into the dark water.

And my first thought was,

"Mom's gonna kill me."

And I remember

the knitted balls on their hats

as they disappeared under the black water.

So I ripped off my jacket

and I jumped into the freezing water

and dove down and got Craig

and pulled him up

and threw him on the ice.

Then I dove down again,

but I couldn't find the stroller.

It had slipped down the muddy bank,

further down under the ice.

Then I dove in again,

and I finally found the stroller,

and Phil was strapped in,

and I ripped the strap off

and pulled him out

and pushed him up onto the ice.

Then I ran home, one twin under each arm,

frozen and screaming.

I ran in the door,

and I told my mother what had happened.

And she stood there and said,

'What a wonderful swimmer you are.

And I didn't know

you were such a good diver."

And when I think of her now,

I realize that was the moment

I had been trying to remember.

"Tell the animals,"

she said.

"Tell all the animals."

Is it a pilgrimage?

Towards what?

# She says, what do you call love? #

# Well, I call it Harry #

# Oh, please I'm being serious #

# What do you call love? #

# Well, I don't call it family

and I don't call it lust #

# And as we all know,

marriage isn't a must #

# And I suppose in the end,

it's a matter of trust #

# If I had to #

# I'd call love time #

# She said, what do you call love? #

# Can't you be more specific? #

# What do you call love? #

# Is it more than

the heart's hieroglyphic? #

# Well, for me, time has no meaning #

# No future, no past #

# And when you're in love #

# You don't have to ask #

# There's never enough time #

# To hold love in your grasp #

# Turning time around #

# Turning time around #

# That is what love is #

# Turning time around #

# Yes, that is what love is #

# My time is your time #

# When you're in love #

# And time is what #

# You never have enough of #

# You can't see or hold it #

# It's exactly like love #

# Turning time around #

# Turning time around #

# Turning time around #

# Turning time around #

# Turning time around #

# Well, I gotta have it #

# I got to, got to, got to have it #

# Turning, turning time around #

# Got to have it turning time around #

# Turning, turning time around #

# Turning time around ##

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes