You can all relax, Richey Manic is alive and he’s housesitting at my place in Gaspereau Forks.

We found a bunch of old fluorescent light tubes in the basement. First thing we did was have a swordfight with them in the backyard. You can guess how long that lasted.

Afterwards I held the broken hilt of the white light source. Richey held out his arm.

“Cut me.”

In this world, there is a logic, which is hard to argue with, whereby if a man goes around asking to be cut, sooner or later, someone is going to cut him.

So I dragged a white flame of glass down Richey’s arm. And we watched as it burst into blood.

His arms, his face, his chest. Every visible part of his body, crisscrossed with a maze, a dark mesh of scars.

He collects them wherever he goes. Souvenirs.

Every place is a scar.

swordfight-mondayjuly32006.mov [3MB QuickTime]