Cadillac Couches Read Online Free PDF Page B

Hunter S. Thompson; Isobel was sure to fall in love with him once she understood his true genius; he would become a hugely sought-after singer-songwriter, and foreign correspondent. We had often talked dreams/myths after work at the restaurant, unwinding over a few Heinekens or Gin Talkings, as we liked to call them.
    I think we had reached our goal. The mood was great, or at least relaxed. We were palling around with Dan Bern and he was flirting with Isobel.
    6:05 PM : The tape recorder clicked off. I was a little tipsy. We babbled some more about everything. I think we covered Woody Guthrie, High School, Tennis, Why Canada Is Fabulous, Bad Journalists’ Questions, his defence of Henry Miller, both Elvises, New York Pedestrians, Jaywalking in Alberta, Sunglasses, Dogs, and all of our astrological signs. Blue Rodeo had long finished playing, and Gillian Welch was starting up when Dan finally said, “I gotta get back ’cause I’m drunk.”
    7:30 PM : After expending all that nervous energy, I was tired but feeling relatively normal about the whole thing.
    â€œGuys, maybe we should take on Costello! Or Bowie, I think he’s on tour somewhere. We could go on the road!” Finn enthused. “It’s like that Woody Allen line about the world opening up for us like one big vagina!!!”
    â€œEasy there, chief . . . A road trip, ya, that would be dreamy. I could use a holiday . . .” I said.
    Isobel kept mumbling to both of our annoyances how charmant Bern was. He had scribbled his email address on her arm in Jiffy blue permanent ink. We’d have to see it for a while yet.
    We climbed the hill later and sacked out on the tarp, ready for the candle-lit portion of the evening. Everyone brought candles to light at twilight. There was even a procession of kids walking down the hill with flickering paper lanterns held aloft. Festivals are so much better than stadium concerts; there’s just no contest. As we lay back and listened to the tunes, a feeling of widespread goodwill swept the hill and I revelled in Edmonton at its most magical. Isobel was letting Finn rub her feet. Even though I saw Sullivan sitting farther down the hill with his freaky tall new girlfriend wrapped around him, I sang along to “Four Strong Winds,” thinking this day had turned into the kind you knew you would never forget. A real Top 10 day.
    The rest of the festival was a perfect lost weekend of booze, more green onion cakes with atomically hot sauce, doughnuts, smiles to cute boys, flirtations in the porta-potty lineup, and great tunes. After the weekend we were left ravaged, exhausted, and gastrointestinally challenged but happified. Mostly though we were very proud of our stunt. Finn especially felt like the King of the World. And I began to think of another quest being possible: maybe Hawksley and I could meet sooner than I thought. It might be time to meet him, in the flesh. What flesh. Mmmm.



side a, track 2

    â€œToo much love is like too much dope
    First you laugh then you choke
    We were a tug of war with too much rope
    We got covered in mud, then the rope just broke
    But ooh wah baby I’ll think of you
    I’m sure to laugh, and cry a little too
    Boo hoo hoo”
    â€œOoh Wah Baby,” Ben Sures
    A week later I was sitting in the window seat at the Sugar Bowl coffee shop on the south side of the river, savouring a buttery sweet cinnamon bun, layer by layer, drinking a black cup of coffee, and looking at a road atlas when I noticed Finn, looking a bit apocalyptic, crossing the room toward me through the late afternoon sunshine haze. Jazzy ska horns trumpeted from the speakers as he jostled with the palm tree and chairs in his path. I examined him, wondering yet again how Isobel managed to hook-line-and-sink so many good-quality guys. Since the festival stunt he had thought he’d impressed Isobel so much she’d go out with him for ages. He didn’t know of