Anthony Writes to Nate

Hi Nate:

I know, it’s been almost a decade since I wrote an actual paper letter to you. Remember those days when we still insisted on paper letters even though there was the ease of email? Sort of like the way we use email now instead of texting or skyping. Those were different days. Not because of the apparent ease of communication technology, but rather because we were young.

I remember back. Way back. Remember when we had to sit and drink our cold coffee and actually talk? We coukd easily pick out the shy ones then. There was no hiding. There was no secret text flirting. No. We flirted with our fucking eyes. Oh, my dear friend Nate. I miss those days.

I saw Amelia finally got married and had a baby as well. I saw it on Facebook the other day. Then I thought of my original letter about her. She was a terrific girl. But that slut image did her in. It saddens me still–knowing she actually gave in to fodder. But fodder can be strong. She was a beautiful girl. In so many ways. And so intelligent for her age. She was barely in her 20s yet she knew so much. Maybe it was her haughty upbringing. But it served her well. Lost souls like us turn out better without having the extra burden of money to worry about. Too bad that didn’t continue between her and me. I know I was over 10 years older, but u coukd imagine myself in an office overlooking the big city. As long as I toed the line and ident cheat on her. Yiu know, like an imprisonment sans creativity. But it would have righted wrongs, Nate. I would have fixed myself and then righted wrongs. And I’d have assurance. Insurance. I’d have reassurance. And financial backing.

Oh my God! What do I sound like? And now I capitalize ‘God’. Don’t worry. I’m still the same old me. That’s why I’m writing you, my friend. I’m more me than ever. I’ve delved moderately into my subconscious mind and come out with thoughts that explain so much. I know why I have suffered so often with my thoughts. With conflict. I know why I’ve gone astray. And I also know why I get sick and nothing wrong is found. But don’t let that fool you. If it continues, this pain and suffering of the body, they will one day find the menace. And they won’t at all understand what’s wrong except for what the diagram shows them. They will diagnose, hopefully something curable, and blame it on some ‘logical’ cause. Even stress needs to be questioned in terms of ‘why’.

I was molested by a female family member. There, I said it Nate. It’s easier that way. I just stumbled upon it during a discussion. The thought of her using me for her pleasure just played through like a stage play. Anyway, that’s past me now. But she is the reason for all those mood swings I was guilty of. And she may even be responsible for me subconsciously pushing Amelia away and becoming a sex addict. You knkw the rest. But do you know what it’s like to find this out when most of your life is over?

I had to share this with you because I can’t share it with anyone else. You know how the family would react. You caan imagine how difficult it is living with this. Thanks for reading it. It means so much.

Nate, if only we can alter our pasts. If we can keep all the beneficial events and get rid of the destructive ones. Fools bring up fools, as we’d already discussed. Imagine a negative thought now bringing about painful physical symptoms. Imagine npt being believed by elitist ignoramus doctors. They try to keep you well by not giving you the adequate drugs you need. And they blame it on the opiate crisis that they’ve invented. It’s like Greece being the global scapegoat for greedy bourgeois capitalists.

But you know, Nate, I’ll go out and get my opiate tonight. There’s a pub down the street. I don’t drink. I watch foos drink. They look so stupid. Then I pick a so-called ‘victim’. I talk to her. Say the right things. You know…. They are overtaken by my gallantry, charm, and potential for power. So I go through the rounds. Even if it bores me, I need that rush to keep my sanity.

It should ain’t no office in a skyscraper.

Warm regards,

Anthony

Tripoli Restaurant Laval — The Definition of Food Porn

I hadn’t been to Tripoli Restaurant in Laval in a couple of years. We decided to go there on a whim; and we’re glad we did.

It was about 12.30 PM. A perfect time to dine on a Saturday, because you get to be in a mostly-empty restaurant and get a chance to breathe in the environment without being rushed.

The walls were full of pictures associated with the city of Tripoli or other parts of Greece. The tables and colours were mostly Greek-flag blue and white, like when you reach the island of Paros in the Greek Cyclades.

The waitress was a Greek-Canadian young lady who barely knew enough Greek for an order. I switched to English and she was very helpful. I was, as usual, very peculiar and difficult about the way I wanted my fish cooked. I had a sea bass and my companion took the traaditional salted cod (bakaliaro) with a side of skordalia (greek side that combines mashed potatoes and mashed garlic), see below. I took a Greek salad and my partner a lettuce salad, both with a healthy sprinkling of crumpled feta.

My salad was delicious, although there was a hint of lemon on it. It was fresh and very tasty.

The waitress brought some less-than-fresh bread to us in a basket (as per Greek tradition) but forgot the butter. A customer on the next table and I lifted the bread slices looking for the butter, but to no avail. It took a good 5 minutes to getbit after we asked for it. I wondered if this was restaurant policy or if the waitress had just been aloof. Either way, it was the only bad part of the serving, alongwith the arrival of foods at disproportionate times. But it’s nothing to reallycomplain about. The waitress more than made up for it by getting the order perfectly right and apologizing and being polite.

The guy at the next table got his lamb chops. I’ve had them before. They’re absolutely perfectly done with just enough sauce and lemon on them.

Then he received his traditional Greek fries, just the way grandma used to make them. Slightly burnt. Perfect for fish and chips, yet perfectly round.

The fish was mouthwatering. Just a bit of oil and salt and pepper. I didn’t add any lemon. It was perfectly grilled. All I needed was a chair and umbrelka in front of a Greek beach.

For dessert, on the house this time, were the ever-famous loukoumades (Greek dough puffs with a dash of sugar and plenty of honey.

I strongly recommend Tripoli. An amazing dining experience.

Parking: Yes

Atmosphere: 9/10

Cleanliness: 9/10

Food: 9/10

Service: 7/10