A dialog with time and space.
But what is time? A river flowing? A long line leading from our beginnings to our end? Alpha and Omega? An instant held between finger and thumb and so swiftly forgotten? A dream we dream when we are awake. Or asleep. And which is the real dream, waking or sleeping? Sleeping or lying awake?
And what is space? This house in which Billy lives? The garden Billy watches from his widow? Billy’s town? His district? His county? His province? His region?
And how does Billy relate to his “time” or his “place” and what is this being called “Billy”, this dream Billy dreams, this post-amniotic ocean of life in which Billy floats?
Billy dreams he is male. When he reads Carl Jung he learns a large part of him is female. Billy thought he was masculino / macho / male, yet when a large part of him is femenina / hembra / female, he’s no longer sure what he is.
Billy has ten fingers yet he uses only two to type. Two fingers manipulating twenty-six letters and Billy turns his black-and-white keyboard world upside down when he thinks his subversive thoughts and types them onto the page.
Time and place, male and female: Billy lay on his side in hospital and the young urologist shot him full of female hormones so his prostrate cancer would not takeover his inner organs and destroy his life.
Place and time: Billy lies awake at night and shapes disturbing dreams, dreams he never before dreamed of dreaming.
Billy senses the end is drawing near.
He fears it. Yet he loves it. He loves it because it’s his and nobody else’s.
In Billy’s beginning is his end.
Beginning and end: both belong to him.
Time and space, so sacred to Billy’s life … they will continue with or without him.
Billy may not be there to bear witness. But he has been here and parts of him will remain embedded in the mind of each and every one of those who knew him.
On an unusually Odd Sunday at Corked: raise a glass to Billy’s name when he is gone.
Leave an empty glass on the table for Billy and he will be there.