nineteen raze i wasn't old enough to drink back when everyone was calling it the eclectic cafe. i spent most of my time there after the building was painted an ugly shade of orange and the new owners changed the name to a stupid misspelled variation on the word for visible aerosol in the atmosphere. i liked it better when it was still called lyft. i was there for an hour or two the night i turned nineteen. i think that was the last time i set foot in the place before it became what it is now. my dad didn't throw me a surprise party that year. we probably went out for dinner. maybe we watched a movie. i can't remember. everything that happened when the sun was still around is dust. after it got dark, i went to see gord and julie and josh at their townhouse. i wasn't expecting anyone to get me anything. gord had two gifts for me. there was a funny-looking fake eyeball with a green pen. and there was a cd. "aenema" by tool. "this is your new favourite band," he said. he was wrong about that. but i liked the music. josh had something for me too. he handed me a pill. it was demerol. a relic from when he had his wisdom_teeth pulled. he said it was one of his favourite highs. his other birthday present was being the designated driver. i gave him and gord the hit of e i'd been holding onto since february. they broke it in half and washed it down with beer. anna was playing that night with erin and alison. they called themselves the rusty halos. they sang "happy_birthday" a cappella. anna said i was special. she gave me a flower from her garden. gord told me to put it in a book, but i couldn't decide which two pages i wanted to wrap around it. "you need to make a move right now," josh said, "if you're not a pussy. if you don't hit on her, i will." i didn't do anything. neither did he. a pretty bartender poured me a shot. she said it was something she invented. she called it the soccer bitch. it was half a shot of jagermeister and half a shot of goldschlager. it was on the house. i thought it was the best thing i'd ever tasted. when he was alone, gord talked to the candle at our table. he asked the flame why he was there. it flickered in my direction. he asked why i was there. the flame moved toward anna. he asked what was going to happen. it pointed at both of us. he thought it meant we were going to end up together. he was wrong about that too. we hit the coach and the press club a little later. my only photo id was my passport. elvis sang on a big screen tv. drugged out. drenched in sweat and sadness. bloated and beautiful and almost gone. he died on my birthday six years before i started breathing. "i love everyone in this fucking car," i said after josh drove me home. no one said they loved me back. i staggered up the stairs to my bedroom and watched the ceiling spin. i puked into my garbage pail. i fell asleep on my back and woke up to a music video on tv. a woman who was two years older than me sang, "don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand?" i couldn't hear her. the sound was turned off. 221217 what's it to you? who go blather from