Toronto Fringe: Art, longing & acceptance in the poetic, heart-wrenching, gender-bending The Bird Killer

Clockwise, from bottom left: Emerjade Simms, Tymika Tafari, Subhash Santosh, Mo Zeighami, Evan Mackenzie & Mike Ricci. Photo by Patrick J. Horan.

 

LET ME IN presents Justine Christensen’s poetic, heart-wrenching modern-day, gender-bending adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull with its Toronto Fringe production of The Bird Killer, directed by Patrick J. Horan and running in the Tarragon Theatre Mainspace.

A group of artist friends grapple with the day-to-day challenges of artistic expression, and personal and professional fulfillment—all while maintaining their relationships and support network. Masha (Emerjade Simms) is a keen observer of her friends’ goings-on, and acts as a host/narrator when she’s not directly involved in a moment. Wearing black to mourn the state of her life, her sardonic sense of humour masks a broken heart: her unrequited love of the driven, tormented playwright Kostya (Mo Zeighami). Kostya is with the nervous emerging actor Nina (Even Mackenzie), who stars in her new contemporary theatre piece. Singer/songwriter Medvedenko (Mike Ricci, who also supplies original music for the production) is Kostya’s loyal, hard-working stage manager; and taken with Masha.

Kostya’s wise-cracking stand-up comic brother Arkadina (Subhash Santosh) brings his girlfriend, renowned playwright Trigorin (Tymika Tafari), to an invitation-only presentation of Kostya’s new work; setting off debates of artistry vs. celebrity, and changing the group dynamic. He’s unwittingly set in motion a significant ripple within the group—and things will never be the same.

Beautiful, moving work from the ensemble with a piece that cuts close to home for all artists. Each character longs for love and professional artistic fulfillment, but finds it difficult to achieve satisfaction. Does acknowledgement and accolades make one artist’s work more important than another’s? How does an artist navigate authenticity vs. marketability? And, most importantly, how does an artist accept him/herself?

The Bird Killer continues in the Tarragon Mainspace, with two more performances: tonight (July 13) at 9:15 pm and July 15 at 3:30 pm.

Want to check if the show you want to see is sold out? The Toronto Fringe folks have set up a page for sold-out shows, updated daily.

 

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A gothic fairy tale of spiritual connections, mystical protectors & escaping a monster in Brenda Clews’ gripping, magical Fugue in Green

Like a bullet in slow motion, she floated over treetops for as long as it took to blink.

A gothic fairy tale of spiritual connections, mystical protectors and escaping the clutches of a monster, this is the opening line of Brenda Clews’ mesmerizing, magical novella Fugue in Green, published by Quattro Books.

Teen siblings Steig and Curtis struggle to survive live with their cruel, controlling and abusive mother Leica while their filmmaker father Reb is away working in England. Their monster mother is a catalyst for Steig’s escapes into the woods that surround their Vermont home, where Steig finds solace in nature. It is in these moments that we learn that Steig is a magical, elemental young woman who becomes the landscape she loves and shelters in. She also sees ghosts: her grandparents and a former teacher. And the ghosts tell her things. And she has a spritely sentinel: a bird man called forth from her connection to the woods to be her guardian.

Reb lives and works with his dreams—and dreams while awake—the everyday becoming surreal, expressionist visions that surround him; a visual poet, he creates poetry with images instead of words. And what of the mysterious and angelic Clare, a magician with a camera who arrives in his life at the precise moment he needs her—both personally and professionally?

Steig’s younger brother Curtis busies himself with more traditional, earth-bound teen pursuits. While not fully immune to their mother’s unreasonable expectations, unpredictable behaviour and wrath, he bears the least of it. And when their mother goes too far with Steig one day, Curtis launches a plan to flee their mother, contact their father and join him in England. Their journey to safety is fraught with terrifying memories and shared visions, but is also protected by forest spirits.

Secrets are revealed—with devastating results. Reb had no idea about the child abuse going on in his own home; forced to move beyond his own sense of guilt of being so distant from his children, who he realizes he barely knows, he’s determined to make a safe, supportive home for them. He’s been away too much and for too long. Meanwhile, back at the family’s home in Vermont, and realizing that her children are gone, Leica flies into a spiralling, destructive rage that echoes across an ocean.

Supernatural, spiritual connections emerge and reveal themselves; the battle between order and wilderness embodied in the relationship between Steig’s mother and Steig—and even Reb. Love, family, myth and metaphysics intertwine, winding around these relationships as the two children escape the witch at home and into the arms of those who truly love them.

Magical, sensuous and seductive, Clews’ words swirl around you and draw you in; mesmerizing with evocative colours and haunting, ethereal—and sometimes disturbing—images. A short, gripping modern fairy tale, it’s perfect for curling up for an afternoon or evening read, easily finished in one sitting.

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Brenda Clews

Clews is also an artist and a poet; you can view her work on her website, and on YouTube and Vimeo. You can also connect with Clews on Twitter and Facebook.

Interview: Lizzie Violet

Lizzie Violet—photo by Anna Lozyk Romeo

Happy International Women’s Day! Today’s post is an interview with an incredibly talented, hard-working, gutsy and generous woman in the Toronto arts scene.

Lizzie Violet is a writer, spoken word artist and horror aficionado—that “dark little girl with the crooked grin” who took her finely tuned, quirky sense of observation and love of zombie lore, and wrote it down. Evocative, darkly funny and sharply drawn, her writing ranges from hilarious and poignant personal storytelling, to socio-political observation, to chilling tales of the supernatural and deadly creatures from beyond the grave.

LWMC: You first become attracted to horror when you were a kid, staying up late with your dad watching old horror movies on TV. What was it that hooked you?

LV: Apparently, I liked to scare myself. Even as a young introverted kid, I figured out how invigorating an adrenaline rush felt. Even more so than watching the movies, the stories I would make up in my head scared me even more. I had an overactive imagination.  I was never afraid of the boogieman or the monsters in the closet. I was all about the bizarre versions of monsters and ghosts my mind would visualize or create and I would wonder if the creak in the stairs was a werewolf coming to gobble me up. I loved every second of it. Recently, my mom dug up some of the stories I wrote as a kid. You can see where it all began.

LWMC: You also became infamous around the school library for your interest in horror literature and biographies of serial killers. When did your love of the genre translate into wanting to writing horror-themed poems and stories?

LV: How that all started, was my Great Grandfather Bill died when I was 10 years old. I was really close to him. They took me to his viewing at the funeral home and to me, the man in the casket looked nothing like him. He had this weird heavy makeup on, including rouge and lipstick. At the viewing, I started asking a lot of ‘inappropriate’ questions about why he looked that way and what was going to happen to him now that he had ‘passed away’ (no one would actually use the word dead). No one would answer me. I had a melt down and then wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral.

After that, I would continually ask the librarians for books about death, eventually progressing to books on serial killers and hauntings. We used to get the Scholastic Book Club magazines and I would get upset when there weren’t books along that theme as an option. They (teachers and the librarian) became concerned about how morbid this young child had become. My parents were not pleased, to say the least. All of this pushed me further into introversion and a way for me to cope was to start writing. To everyone’s dismay… my writing was always horror themed. From that point on in my life I became death-obsessed. Not in a ‘wanting to kill myself way,’ rather needing to seek the knowledge about death. Why it happened, what happened to you and your body when you died. Why we had funerals. Did it hurt? Recently, I discovered a writer and YouTuber called Caitlin Doughty (her channel is ‘Ask A Mortician’); I wish I had known someone like her as a kid. She is open about death and death positivity.

LWMC: Over the years, you’ve written in a number of media, from poetry, to the story for I Hate Todd’s “Zombie Love” music video, to screenwriting, stage and radio playwriting, and blogging, including your new Not Vegan Now Vegan food/recipe blog. Do you have a favourite medium?

LV: Short stories. I am madly in love with short stories. It goes back to that adrenaline rush feeling. You have to get people pulled in and worked up in a short amount of words. The pressure to do that in under 10,000 words is exhilarating for me. If I had to pick a second, it would be screenwriting. I love storytelling in that format as well. When you read a book or a short story, the reader sees the setting or character differently. They create their own visual. When you put it on a screen, they get to see what you want them to see. They get to actually be in your head and that terrifying thought, is appealing to me.

LWMC: Last Fall, you bid farewell to Lizzie Violet’s Cabaret Noir and tapered off your event production work. And, most recently, you quit your day job to pursue writing full-time. What led up to that decision and how has it been, adjusting to the new routine?

LV: I realized I had my fingers in too many pies and, because of this, I wasn’t getting enough writing done. When I don’t write, I actually get depressed. I sat back and took a look at what I have accomplished; what I could accomplish and realized I needed to be all in. Life is too short and I don’t want to ever have regrets for not trying. You only fail when you don’t make the effort.

I’ve been adjusting well. I freelanced for almost 10 years prior to my last job, and am able to focus and be productive. There are days when you just can’t be creative, and my mantra for those days is to do something else. Go for a walk. Write a list. Have a dance party in the living room. Dig holes somewhere. Just don’t let frustration take over. Sometimes you need to shake the cobwebs out—then you will be fine.

LWMC: What have been your biggest challenges? Your biggest rewards?

LV: Other than things being tight financially at the moment, I don’t really have any challenges. I do have a lot of rewards. Being able to wake up every day and write is the best feeling in the world. I am also lucky to have a partner who is supportive of my dreams.

LWMC: You’re working on a novel right now. What can you tell us about it?

LV: Without give too much away—it’s semi-autobiographical, yet still fiction, a ghost story and set in small-town Ontario. The two main characters are teenagers who don’t fit into society’s ideals of what a teenager should be and, did I mention, it’s ghost story. The title of the novel is Freaks & Grimm. In the next month or so, I am going to start hitting up open mics and read parts of the novel.

LWMC: Anything else you’d like to shout out?

LV: Oh yeah! Going back to your question about shows, though I am no longer producing shows similar to the Cabaret, I am still producing shows that showcase my work. Heather Babcock and I are working on a new format for our RedHead Revue. Hoping to have a date for this spring.  I am also working on a YouTube channel called Lizzie Violet’s Lair.  The content will be segments on horror, b-horror movies, talks about death and the dead. I will have regular guests to chat about ghoulish things such as hearses, graveyard tours, the paranormal, ghosts, zombies and more. Oh… and don’t worry, we will also talk about horror-based writing. I’m working on the set-up and scripts. I’m hoping to launch it this summer. You should all subscribe so you don’t miss the launch: https://www.youtube.com/user/lizzieviolet1313

The RedHead Revue page is https://www.facebook.com/redheadrevue/.

LWMC: I’d like to finish up with James Lipton’s Pivot questionnaire:

What’s your favourite word?

All of them!  If I had to just pick one, it would be gloomy or serendipity. Can I choose two?

What’s your least favourite word?

Moist. Why does that word even exist?

What turns you on?

When someone gets my weird and morbid sense of humour.

What turns you off?

Phoniness. Say what you mean. Say what you feel. Don’t pretend to be something or someone you aren’t. Being authentic is important. Oh… damn… I sounded like a hipster.

What sound or noise do you love?

The sounds of a thunderstorm rolling in. Nothing more soothing than thunder and lightning.

What sound or noise do you hate?

The sounds of animals in pain. It breaks my heart.

What is your favourite curse word?

Motherfucker.

What profession other than your own would you like to pursue?

There isn’t any other profession. This is what I’ve dreamed of all my life.

What profession would you not like to do?

Veterinarian. When I was a kid, I had a brief moment were I wanted to be a vet, until I found out that they had to euthanize the animals.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

You made a wrong turn. It’s the other gates you want.

Thanks, Lizzie!

You can also keep up with Lizzie Violet on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

An exclusive murder mystery weekend gets real in the darkly funny, surprising A Party to Murder

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Clockwise from bottom: Trevor Cartlidge, Liam Doherty, Lawrie Hopkinson, Haley Vincent, Michael Hunter & Madeleine Spadafora in A Party to Murder – photo by Dave Fitzpatrick

You are cordially invited to an exclusive murder mystery weekend this Halloween at a secluded upscale cottage at a secret location.

The Village Players are currently running A Party to Murder, by Douglas E. Hughes and Marcia Kash, directed by Rob Woodcock, at their home the Village Playhouse (Bloor St. West, a bit east of Runnymede). It’s the second show of their all-Canadian season; I caught yesterday’s matinee.

We open on a melodramatic Agatha Christie-esque scene of whodunnit, part of a by invitation only game hosted by mystery novelist Charles (Liam Doherty) at Hadfield House, his lush cottage retreat on a private island on Cassandra Lakes, Ontario. The area, we learn, is infamous for its ties to the mysterious case of the Phantom Five, five business titans who went missing 25 years ago.

Among Charles’ guests are business mogul Elwood (Michael Hunter) and his much younger companion McKenzie (Madeleine Spadafora); Valerie (Lawrie Hopkinson) and Henri (Haley Vincent), sisters who’ve inherited their family utility business; and former football star Willy (Trevor Cartlidge), now confined to a wheel chair after a car accident.

The one who guesses the murderer wins a lavish prize, furnished via the sizeable entry free all guests are required to pay. When Elwood is pronounced the winner and decides to exact a favour from each of the others, things get tense and interesting – especially when Elwood turns up dead soon after.

Now faced with an actual murder mystery, the group is stuck on the island with no phone or cell service; they must wait until the water taxi returns to pick them up the next day. And when a journal linking the cottage to the Phantom Five is discovered and a second member of the group drops dead, the stakes get even higher.

Like the novelist host in the play, A Party to Murder is inspired by the works of Agatha Christie (who receives homage via the large photograph featured prominently on the upstage wall) – full of twists, turns and surprises. And loads of whodunnit fun.

Really nice work from the cast in this exciting tale of intrigue and murder. Doherty gives British expat Charles a dry, Coward-esque wit. A novelist of some repute and a sharp observer of human behaviour, he’s an extremely affable host, arranging everything himself, including cooking the gourmet meals. While we first see her as the humble housemaid in the mystery role play, Hopkinson gives Valerie a decidedly dragon lady edge; a powerful CEO with a shrewd business mind and a wry wit. Vincent’s Henri is the polar opposite of Valerie, with some interesting layers; anxious and wary, there’s an inquisitive mind and a drive for the truth under that submissive exterior. And her role play medium character has hilarious hints of Madame Arcati.

As Elwood, Hunter brings a self-satisfied, near sociopathic, sense of entitlement and aloofness; a jealous, possessive man with a quick temper, he relishes his power over others. Spadafora’s McKenzie is a great combination of lady of leisure and survivor; a professional model and personal ornament to Elwood, her life isn’t as fairytale as it appears. And Cartlidge’s Willy may be a cocky, wise-cracking jock, but his intensely negative reaction to the prospect of being under Elwood’s thumb gives pause, as does his ongoing gallows humour.

One gets the feeling that everyone has a secret – but is it a lethal one?

With big shouts to the design team for the gorgeous environment and atmospheric effects, complete with a secret passage, a storm, flickering lights and fabulous outfits: Katherine Bignell-Jones (set), Sue Gilck (sound), Dustin Woods-Turner (lighting), Rosemary McGillivray (props) and Jennifer Newnham (costumes).

An exclusive murder mystery weekend gets real in the darkly funny, surprising A Party to Murder. My friends and I had a great time.

Party to Murder continues at the Village Playhouse until Nov 26; check here for full performance date/time info. Tickets can also be purchased 45 minutes before curtain time at the box office; or you can call to reserve: 416-767-7702.

You can keep up with the Village Players on Twitter and Facebook.

Courage, poetry & resilience. Final words & accounts of the 16 executed rebels in the moving A Terrible Beauty: Voices from 1916

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Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?

That is heaven’s part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?

No, no, not night but death.
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead.

And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse —
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Whenever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Easter 1916, by W.B. Yeats

The Toronto Irish Players, as part of their commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the 1916 Irish Rising, presented A Terrible Beauty: Voices from 1916, an evening of readings and music, assembled and directed by Lucy Brennan, on the Alumnae Theatre Mainstage last night.

The evening began with the Irish Proclamation of Independence, read at the top of the stairs near the entrance of the Mainstage before we were invited to enter and take our seats. What followed was a multimedia tribute of 1916 Rising film footage and photographs, and readings of words written by the 16, and accounts from their family, loved ones, attending priests and brothers in arms. All of this interspersed with a cappella music breaks, sung by a single male voice: Mise Eire (Sean Ó Riada), The Bold Fenian Men (Peadar Kearny), The Minstrel Boy (Thomas Moore) and A Nation Once Again (Thomas Davis); and including poetry by W.B. Yeats, Patrick Pearse, Thomas MacDonagh and Joseph Mary Plunkett, as well as an introductory composition by director Lucy Brennan, and verbatim text of the last words and meetings in Kilmainham Jail, taken from Last Words.

With its dramatic readings of quotes, statements, and extracts from letters and speeches by and about the 16 leaders and executed rebels of the 1916 Irish Rising, A Terrible Beauty gives us a glimpse into the lives and dreams of those who were, in the words of the Proclamation (read on the steps of the General Post Office in Dublin by Patrick Pearse on Easter Monday, April 24, 1916) fighting for an Ireland that “guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens and [which] declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and all of its parts, cherishing all of the children of the nation equally.”

The 16 leaders and executed rebels included in the evening’s readings included the seven signatories of the Proclamation (Éamonn Ceannt, Thomas James Clarke, James Connolly, Seán MacDiarmada, Thomas MacDonagh, Patrick Pearse and Joseph Mary Plunkett) and nine other executed leaders (Roger Casement, Con Colbert, Edward Daly, Seán Heuston, Thomas Kent, John MacBride, Michael Mallin, Michael O’Hanranhan and William Pearse).

The ensemble did a lovely job with these deeply moving – at times tender, fierce and poetic – final words and first-hand accounts. The humanity and struggles of these men, and the sorrow of their family and those near to them coming to life on stage; the audience rapt in remembrance, responding with sounds of recognition, dismay, the occasional chuckle, and even humming or singing along with the songs. Kudos to the cast, in order of appearance (in some cases, playing multiple roles): Mark Whelan, Alan King, Nora Rafferty, Sheila DeCuyper, David Mackett, Jean Ireton, Danny Sullivan, James Phelan, Catherina Maughan, Alan Hunt, Mairead Clancy, Lucy Brennan, Davis Tyrell and Mark Hill. And thanks to the Toronto Irish Players and Lucy Brennan for the comprehensive and informative program notes.

Courage, poetry and resilience. Final words and accounts of the 16 executed rebels in the moving A Terrible Beauty: Voices from 1916.

A Terrible Beauty: Voices from 1916 was a one-night only event. You can catch the Toronto Irish Players as they continue their run of John Patrick Shanley’s Outside Mullingar, on the Alumnae Theatre Mainstage until Nov 5.

You can keep up with the Toronto Irish Players on Twitter and Facebook.

The Next Big Thing online interview

LwMC micI posted this interview a while back, and thought it might be handy to re-post, especially for those of you who are new to life with more cowbell or visiting for the first time. Enjoy… 🙂

I was invited by my friend writer/blogger/poet/editor Lizzie Violet to participate in an online interview called Next Big Thing as a way for writers to do a little self-promotion and/or think about what they’re working on or will have out soon. Writers tag other writers, who all answer the same 10 questions and post them on their blog. Lizzie added a twist and decided to include playwrights, songwriters and bloggers as well, so my responses will be about my blog.

What is your working title of your blog? life with more cowbell

Where did the idea come from for the blog? I was the company blogger at Alumnae Theatre, posting about the shows it was producing, and generally shouting out and supporting the theatre. When I made the decision to “retire” from there, I decided to start my own blog. I wanted to get out to see more live theatre and music, and support local artists. On a broader level, I felt the desire to inject more excitement into my life and generate some positive impact in the process. If that makes any sense. Shout out the work and spread the good word.

What genre does your blog fall under? Arts/culture and entertainment mostly, from an experiential point of view, as opposed to being a review or critique.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? If this blog ever became a movie, it would be a huge honour if Jodie Foster played me.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your blog? Toronto-based culture vulture/social bloggerfly shares her arts/culture and entertainment adventures, with a bit of travel and philosophy thrown in.

Will your blog be self-published or represented by an agency? At this point, I have no representation or plans to turn this blog into a book – but that is an interesting notion. The blog is a serious hobby that I pursue in addition to my “day job” as a copy editor/proofreader for a national public opinion polling company. I’m not really thinking in terms of going “professional” with the blog – to get paid for writing it. Right now, I’m just happy to experience and shout out the art/artists. Though, if someone wanted to pay me to do this – I probably wouldn’t say no.

How long does it take you to write the blog/how much time do you put into it? The blog is ongoing – I post several times a week and a single post can take up to about two hours just to write. Added to that is the time it takes to go out to see the event/performance, maybe take some photos. I usually tweet about it right after, make a few notes, then let it perk in my head over night and write the next day. I also reblog posts of bloggers I follow.

What other blogs would you compare this story to within your genre? Alumnae Theatre Company’s blog, The Magnificent Something. I also contribute to Lipstik Indie Review, so there’s a very similar tone and vibe there too.

Who or what inspired you to write this blog? I come from a visual arts and performing arts (acting and singing) background, then got into writing, short stories and personal essays at first. Then I had the job of bloggergal at Alumnae Theatre – first time blogging for me – and I was hooked. Being this all-around artsy fartsy kinda gal, I wanted to see other art forms and blog about them too. 

What else about your blog might pique the reader’s interest? I’m starting to do interviews and photo essay posts, to mix it up a bit and make for a more interesting visit to the site.

Here are five writers/bloggers/playwrights – and I’m also adding an animator/filmmaker – I’d like to shout out:

Chloë Whitehorn

G. (The Magnificent Something blog)

Lesley Wallace (Coaching with Les blog)

Patrick Jenkins

Transman (The Adventures of Transman blog)

And while you’re cruising through the webiverse, check out these folks as well: Alumnae Theatre Company, Dawna J. Wightman and DJ Paul V. (Born This Way blog & book)

With thanks to Lizzie for inviting me – and Chloë, G., Lesley, Patrick and Transman for coming onboard.

Creative non-fiction – “Dear Tom”

Was out at Amsterdam Bicycle Club last night for another inspiring evening of poetry and spoken word at Lizzie Violet’s Poetry Open Mic, featuring Banoo Zan and several amazing open mic performances.

In an effort to get me kickstarted into writing more short fiction and creative non-fiction, I decided to read the first piece I ever had published: “Dear Tom” from Countering the Myths: Lesbians write about the men in their lives (edited by Rosamund Elwin for Women’s Press, published in 1996). A friend love letter to a dearly departed friend and theatre school colleague, this is “Dear Tom”:

SAMSUNGRemember how warm it was that afternoon before Victoria Day weekend when we decided to take our lunch outdoors? It had been years since I’d been on a picnic. I helped you make our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which I also hadn’t had in years, then we headed out, stopping at the corner store for Pepsi, orange juice and salad.

Across the street and down about a block were the spacious grounds of a private boys’ school. I don’t remember why, but no one seemed to be in school that weekday. The ground was soft and relatively dry, so we sat cross-legged on the grass under a big, leafy maple tree while we ate and talked. It was the first, and only, time I tasted carrot and raisin salad. It was surprisingly good. You were so happy to be outside in the light. Your sunny disposition had been too long in the shade in the hospital. I watched you turn your face to the sunlight, confident that the sunscreen would block any cancer-inducing rays.

Lying on your stomach, you read me some of your poems. Many were about death, some were even hopeful. You wrote of a healing of the soul and finding peace within. One of your poems, set in a cemetery, was about “a man and a hole and another year more.” It gave me a disturbing sense of foreshadowing. You’d already asked if I could set one of your pieces to music. I had turned you down, giving the excuse that I was not a composer and that there were better musical heads than mine to undertake the task. You always believed in me. Maybe that’s why I secretly worked on a melody in my spare time, waiting for the perfect tune to present itself, to surprise you.

“It’s like – I didn’t believe it till you got pneumonia.” It was the first, and only, time I admitted to you how difficult it was for me to accept your illness.

“Bill’s been avoiding the issue too.”

You also told me we all needed our own healing. A good listener, and possessing of a courageous and loving heart, you took the confusion of loved ones in stride, and in turn, inspired love and courage.

I don’t remember everything we talked about that day, but I felt a child-like joy at being alive. And for being with you. Drowsy after our meal, we stretched out our legs and spent some quiet time, you rested your head on my thighs. The clouds drifted by in the bright blue spring sky, but we were both too much in a sleepy haze to make out their shapes. The green maple leaves flapped lazily in a light breeze that rolled through the grass. I’d never felt so connected to you.

Our pastoral afternoon was interrupted by a medical emergency. Your temperature had been elevated all day and showed no sign of coming down.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You didn’t want to cut our day short.

“Don’t worry about it. You gotta go. You have to have this checked out.”

We took a cab to emergency. You settled into the back seat while I leaned forward, willing the car to move faster.

In the examining room, you sat on the gurney, back slouched and shoulders caved in, patient and vulnerable, waiting for the doctor to arrive. After taking your temperature and asking you some questions, one of the AIDS team doctors, a young Asian man, did some blood work. He left the bloodied cotton swabs on the thin white sheet that covered your legs. Annoyed, I moved to dispose of them.

“Don’t touch the blood,” you warned.

I brought the garbage can and you slam dunked the dangerous waste.

“Two points!” I exclaimed. It’s easier if you make it a game. Easier for who, though?

You were tired when we got back to your apartment, but we were both relieved that you didn’t have to stay at the hospital. You needed a nap. I hugged and kissed you goodbye and went home.

The song is finally finished now. It’s not perfect, but it has a pleasing and moving melody. My striving for just the right series of notes has cost me though. You never heard it. But that’s really the only thing I remember about you that makes me sad.