I live in a building full of eccentrics. Italian Elvis walks Clark Street in an old beige wool coat. He wears fat sunglasses and a giant cross. He talks to himself but is always happy to talk to you. Occasionally he'll stop his talking and break out into an Elvis song, a cappella style.
Then there's Sylvain, the last Quebec communist. From his steps a flag from the USSR waves; he shouts at the passersby: Vive Le Communisme! Sometimes he can be seen carting massive amounts of potato chips up Clark with his little red wagon. Rumour has it he eats them through the night while he plays violent video games on his old television screen. Sylvain is pushing 60. He makes a living selling pencil crayons, $2.50 a box. He has a sign outside his house advertising it. He's always trying to sell me things; once my girlfriend bought a beaded curtain.
His house smells awful. He lives with his two dogs. He hoards things. Yesterday it was cans of tuna fish; he came home with 160 cans of the stuff, not sure where he got it, certainly he didn't pay a cent. Once I asked him if he had anything I'd like. He offered bicycle chains, a dolly or Hitler paraphernalia. Sylvain doesn't speak a word of English. He is confused by the sexual proclivities of my generation. He is a 6 year old in a 60 year old's body.
Then there's Sylvain, the last Quebec communist. From his steps a flag from the USSR waves; he shouts at the passersby: Vive Le Communisme! Sometimes he can be seen carting massive amounts of potato chips up Clark with his little red wagon. Rumour has it he eats them through the night while he plays violent video games on his old television screen. Sylvain is pushing 60. He makes a living selling pencil crayons, $2.50 a box. He has a sign outside his house advertising it. He's always trying to sell me things; once my girlfriend bought a beaded curtain.
His house smells awful. He lives with his two dogs. He hoards things. Yesterday it was cans of tuna fish; he came home with 160 cans of the stuff, not sure where he got it, certainly he didn't pay a cent. Once I asked him if he had anything I'd like. He offered bicycle chains, a dolly or Hitler paraphernalia. Sylvain doesn't speak a word of English. He is confused by the sexual proclivities of my generation. He is a 6 year old in a 60 year old's body.
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