Prince Picnic by Clint Burnham

 
 
Prince Picnic
 
 
I told my father, I said, I am going to be a musician. He say magician no good. I say, why you magician no good?
 
Magician be gay. Woman be gay. Man be gay. Everything be gay.
 
He say you will I say how you think that. I am disappointed in you. What do you think you raised? How did you raise? You raised me. How can you think magic will make me not your son?
 
My father that was whose car is that. I said that is my car. But he knew.
 
But he, but he knew. He knew I would not be his son.
 
So I went on my way.
 
I want to tell you a story.
 
I was going to be my father. I was going to do what he did. I did not think their way there was any other way. He took me here and he took me here and he took me there. There were animals there we were in the bush and people died. They flew upside down and they died. They they sang songs in praise of dying. Before they died and after they died. They sang songs about killing themselves to protect the commonwealth.
 
There was a lodge, and the creature came from there. He came from when from he came to where we were in the school. I was a schoolboy. You you know this thing schoolboy? I was that I was the schoolboy.
 
After I was a schoolboy, there there came the creature the creature boy I suppose he came from the lodge he told us he would blow us up. So she left. So we left the school, we left it from there. In there was in there there was he note he he let he left he let himself too left it there, a note, maybe I don’t know.
 
Maybe I don’t know maybe he left maybe did not he did not leave a note he used the telephone. He would blow us up there was many bombs there so maybe he was right. They kept having the attacks and having to they picked them-o up off the ground after the attacks.
 
There was that was happening and then at the school was the lady man who watched us get changed into our gym strip for the running and the jumping.
 
They would tell us to put on our caps, the gear we put it into a wire basket and then the creature boy came again from the lodge and told us to go away because he would blow the place up.
 
So if we walked along the ledge they would stop in their big long black car and tell us why were we doing that or if we had the guns.
 
We told them we did not have the guns. It did not work and so my father he went to them and told them you know they did not have any guns.
 
Later he punched him in the arm and told him not to tell him that he said they did not you know have any gones.
 
So maybe for the songs and maybe for the guns my father you know he did not me to be magician. So I wanted to be my father.
 
~ Clint Burnham
 
Clint BurnhamClint Burnham lives in Vancouver. Books include Airborne Photo (stories, Anvil Press, 1999) and Smoke Show (novel, Arsenal Pulp Press, 2005).
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Raymond BoisjolyRaymond Boisjoly is an Indigenous artist of Haida and Québécois descent from Chilliwack, BC, currently based in Vancouver. Recent exhibitions include (And) Other Echoes, Simon Fraser University Gallery, Raymond Boisjoly, Catriona Jeffries Gallery, and As It Comes, Contemporary Art Gallery. Boisjoly has participated in numerous group exhibitions and projects including Pleinairism, Walter Phillips Gallery; Tools for Conviviality, The Power Plant; Phantasmagoria, Presentation House Gallery; and Raymond Boisjoly, Jordy Hamilton, Laura Piasta: Studies in Decay, OR Gallery. Boisjoly was awarded a Fleck Fellowship from the Banff Centre in 2010. He is represented by Catriona Jeffries Gallery. This fall, Boisjoly will serve as Lead Faculty for “In Kind” Negotiations, a thematic residency at the Banff Centre.

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