I’m trying to write about nothing, as my daughter Sophie insists this is what people want to read about and not my long, boring political diatribes. So here is my first Blog About Northern Nothingness – a sort of chilled-out, frozen-stiff version of Jerry Seinfeld. But Timmins is not New York City, where Seinfeld’s urban nothingness takes place. In fact, Timmins at 40,000 people, is about 300 times smaller than New York City’s population of nearly 12 million people.
However, I hazard to guess that the per capita cast of wacky characters may be about equal. There certainly are plenty of Cosmo Kramer goofball, free spirits up here. And I guess, I don’t have to look any further than myself to find the local George Costanza as I often remind people of George.
Elaine? Well there are a few up here who remind me of Elaine Benes…but mostly the women in Timmins are a bunch of zany, crazy, wild, northern, savage women – who have a very unconventional dimension to their persona…by the way there is even a Kathy Griffin type up here…remember Kathy Griffin? – the ditzy red-head who based her entire one-woman theatrical off-Broadway play on whatever Jerry happened to say as she hounded him and then incorporated ridiculing Jerry’s progressively angry responses into her next performances.
Well our little Kathy Griffin moment up here north of the watershed divide occurred when I naively accepted an invitation to go back to this savage Timmins female’s house. The house was nicely furnished in early frontier decor…you know moose head, bearskin rug….deer antler…lot of rough hewed wood furniture…quilts every where…it smelled like cedar.
Anyway, when Ms.X sat down next to me on the sofa, I started to massage her neck…the back of her neck to be exact. Much to my shock…she jumps about fifty feet away from me to the other side of the room and tells me she does not like that and she would prefer I stopped. Which I did.
Now comes the Kathy Griffin part….at my next Timmins Voices, a literary reading series I founded up here and held at Christopher’s Coffee House, Ms.X gets up to the open mic and begins her rant…”There are 4 people in Timmins who are trying to seduce me!” she shrieked.
Yikes…I cringed and slid down in my seat…this could prove to be embarrassing if she names names…I start crafting my defense..which really wasn’t that hard..as it is a long stretch to go from a brief neck massage to seduction, although I do admit the two are on the same continuum, and the thought did cross my mind. Damn thought-crime!
I searched the room to see if anyone was casting glances at me. Ms.X continued…”Why do men in Timmins always want to seduce me?!” The audience was laughing now with anticipation of names being belched out from this fire- breathing, relentless-ranter’s mouth; and a person whom I had permitted to rant at my own reading series open mic!
How about being hoisted by my own petard!
But Ms.X pulled back..holy coitus interuptus! Just as I thought I was going to be screwed…Ms.X didn’t spit out my name, or the names of any of her four, filthy seducers!
I went home that night and sent Ms.X an email….”Dear Ms.X: I hereby resign from ever wanting to seduce you. Next time you give your rant please say there are only three men trying to seduce you.”
I heard nothing from Ms.X for a week; and then I received an email from her….”Frank, just to let you know there are now no men trying to seduce me” she said,”the other three resigned as well….”.
I guess the other three must have been at Christopher’s Coffee House that night at Timmins Voices and also dreaded being outed as disgusting, Timmins seducers and they too also resigned.
Now Ms. X can roam the streets of Timmins, free of those constant nagging, attempts by depraved men trying to seduce her.
I hope this story is sufficiently nothing enough to quench people’s desire to read stories about nothing as my literary adviser, my daughter Sophie, insists…so instead of my usual, long winded political diatribes against Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, Prime Minister Stephen Harper and Canada Post, LOL, I will continue writing about Northern Nothingness. I actually enjoyed writing about nothing.
Stay tuned for my next Blog About Northern Nothing. I think I am getting the hang about writing about nothing…well not exactly nothing, because as my son Giancarlo,the philosopher, realized when he was only five or six and I am paraphrasing his quote…”Dad, even when you are writing about nothing, you still are still writing about something.” I wonder if Seinfeld ever figured that out?