hector rendhindi and me

Hector with William S. Burroughs



me with a reefer

This is an e-mail exchange that went back and forth over two days between me and my friend "Hector Rendhindi".

"Hector" is a whacky artist/poet/musician whom I have been friends with ever since I came to Vancouver. He moved away to Ontario last year, and I miss his whacky ways.

There are a few of these exchanges that I will post as time goes by. There is a certain weird poeticism in our streams of conciousness.

From: "dreamroom"
To: "Hector"
Subject: I decided not to German
Date: Sat, 21 May 2005 23:45:54 -0700

in the same way that a crack in a mirror reveals the illusory nature of a reflected image. I decided not to German, and instead, walked to the nearest smoke shop. The proprietor was not in (he never was in those afternoon days of sunken sunlight that I remembered so well before they ever transpired to pass.), so I stood in the summerbreeze rain and gaped at the raw reflection that I saw. It was then that I realized that this wasn't The Edward Hopper painting - not really anyhow - this was real life! But it wasn't my own. Oh no. Not by a longshot as a rivulet of Alizarin Crimson caromed past. "On it's way to somewhere, I guess". At least that's what I thought, but, I suddenly realized that I was floating. But I was not the only one on that cool midnight blue Saturday before dawn, Uh-Uh - not by a long shot....

>-----Original Message-----
From: hector
Sent: May 22, 2005 3:15 PM
To: dreamroom
Subject: RE: I decided not to German


unlike a brick wall reminds you of another brick wall. I couldn't make up
my mind to Inuit, and instead, ran to the nearest monestary. The bumfu*ker was
there ( he always was in those late nights of rising stars that I forget so often as they keep on coming, so I layed down in the winter snow and closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to deal with anything. It was then that I had no idea that this was a Bateman sketch, really, this was phoney, and I owned it. Period!, as a chunk of dried Hookers Green remained permanent on the palette. Going nowhere fast. I wasn't thinking. I was sinking. And I was the only one that hot burnt sienna day just after dusk, oh yes it was happening........


>From: "dreamroom"
To: hector
Subject: RE: I decided not to German
Date: Sun, 22 May 2005 17:39:34 -0700



I had counted seven - I say, seven - giraffes by the time we had
arrived back from South-east Gillander. M. de Rivar was still with us, and
he spoke of a time when he was still indebted to James. As I think you must
know, James had an older sister named Frieda. She was a sordid type, and her
cohort referred to her as Frank. It was sometime after the "Little War", and
she had been more-or-less absolved of her mis-deeds, and of her infamous
gluttony (she still refused to admit to inspiring Munch's "Scream"). She had
taken to leashing herself, and parading herself around like some demented
poodle. I guess the positive thing was - James had still not returned from
his sojourn to the tropics. Anyhow, we had all been at the cathedral, and
found it to be quite fascinating. We had seen several nuns (they didn't seem to be lesbians) tending to what we had thought might be sheep, though on closer examination they turned out to be drunken Ethiopians without their parasols. Oh, but they were the envy of the Crumdites! They had glistening teeth and voices like gypsy-hog banjos. When they walked, they had a certain je ne sais qua - a swagger I suspected... But we were having none of that! Goodness no! There was much stained-glass strewn about, but it also turned out to be quite different than what we had expected. In fact, it wasn't stained-glass at all, but a strip-mall in Kentucky! Oh my, but how I laughed at their gullibility! Last Friday I had another letter from my Aunt's brother's cousin, ( you might remember her from our school days - it was her
Grandfather's son who invented the laser trousers that we wore with such glee when we arrived in Athens that day). She said to say "hello" - should I be talking to you. I think she has had a thing for you since that time in Penetanguishine. Ha! You must remember that escapade all too well? None-the-less, I should remember to send her some of the marmalade that we made from those tangerine berries. What a joke!



----- Original Message -----
From: hector
To: dreamroom
Sent: Sunday, May 22, 2005 7:11 PM
Subject: RE: I decided not to German


there was only two ducks-you said,two by the time we had returned to Northwest Squamish. M.de Rivar was never there at all. He was James lover, as was his younger brother Fredrick. Just before the big bang he had inspired Monets unknown painting titled "Corn Hole Over Them Fu*kin' Lilies",lashing themselves and galavanting ariund like some bitch freak on a hot pride day.The only negative thing was is that James returned that day from Ohio.
We hated the cathedral and passed on going there. Earlier we had seen some
nuns rug munchin each other out back so we avoided it. Heres where you passed out from your pills and we had to cancel our appointment with monsieur.You woke up screaming " I wanna lollypop" so the male nurse hauled you into the other room where he said he gave you an oral sedated.

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