Memories

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 I walked up to the tallest and the blondest girl/

I said, You don't know me now but very soon you will..."

 No photo description available.



When i met Leonard in November 1977 i was working in a bank downtown - briefly, as a temp secretary- i was 26 - I only ever worked in one bank and only for a week or two - i was very thin-- if i was fasting and working in a bank it would probably have been a weekend (I guess I fasted back then but probably it was an experiment not a habit - but Leonard told me he often fasted and may have recommended I try it) 

I have no memory of meeting Stephen Williams  on the evening of November 11, 1977. Remembrance Day was not a holiday in Quebec back then so I had worked downtown that day,

Someone sent me this article in August 2020 -- it was the first time I had seen it. Leonard never mentioned it to me. Maybe there are reasons for that.



whom i did actually meet in 1994 in Toronto at the Bistro when i was interviewing Barry Callaghan for Books in Canada .. at the time he was writing his book about Karla Homolka and talking about how evil she was and how he could just sense she was the real mastermind and not Paul Bernardo -- to be honest, i didn't like him much- he was bragging that his apartment was being featured on the cover of (i think) Toronto Life.. 


First time I've seen this article --

AFAIK i never just dropped in on Leonard -- he must have phoned me and asked me over -- 
 
That's definitely me, in the final three paragraphs, seated in Leonard's kitchen in a trance-like state.


Leonard was scared of journalists and liked to have backup when they came around 



This is the article from Toronto Life magazine 1978 that I mentioned yesterday re: my adult programming.

I only found out about it in August 2020- it was sent to me by Cohen pseudo-biographer Michael Posner (based in Toronto, originally from Winnipeg which is why I never suspected he is the brother to Gerald Posner - CIA hack - yes that Posner who wrote the coverups on JFK and Mengele - but he is)

Interesting article by Stephen Williams whom I met again 17 years later in Toronto at a very strange "dinner" in my "honor" organized by another cult member? who offered to become my publisher (Barry Calaghan, Exile Editions).

So there is a story I could tell but for now, check out the last 2 paragraphs. Definitely me in a tranced-out state at Cohen's kitchen table when journalist Williams arrives for their second interview.

Earlier on in the article there is a reference to a very young woman staying with Cohen. Then another woman rings the doorbell - Cohen speaks to her briefly then confides to Williams that her husband was murdered by a cult.... 

What I remember of that evening 11-11-1977 is that Cohen invited me over for the second time that week.  It was our second "date". On my way to his place, which was only about four blocks away from my apartment at 4900 Clark Street, I stopped in a little Greek grocers and bought two ripe persimmons. Not "pomegranates" -- Williams gets it wrong --

Sitting down at Cohen's kitchen table I offer the persimmons and bite into one. Cohen says "Can I have a bite?"

I say "Sure, where would you like it?"

He points to a spot on the side of his neck. I aim for that spot with the half eaten persimmon. He laughs and wipes his neck.

"Very funny." 

After that I remember nothing of the rest of the evening: the doorbell ringing, Williams arriving, me telling him I'm working in a bank (I was, that week only, working downtown as a temp secretary at the Bank of Montreal) ... I was very tall and thin and I very likely had decided to try fasting that weekend because Leonard had been telling me the benefits....

It's odd because I was also freelancing and had sold my first short story to a Toronto magazine that month - I ought to have remembered this encounter with another freelance journalist but I remember nothing.

I assume that getting attention, which he says is lacking in Toronto, a city ruled by "Ulster Scots" --

He says he will organize a dinner "in my honor" the following evening and invite some of his friends, mostly writers.

One of them is Stephen Williams, who is just finishing up his book on serial killer Karla Homolka -- 

I sit across from Williams and chat with him about Homolka, but have no memory of having met him at Leonard's in 1977 -- seventeen years earlier. He doesn't bring it up, and probably doesn't remember- but then again, why is he here at this "dinner in my honor"? He says he will soon be featured again on the cover of Toronto Life -- 

Callaghan toasts me saying "Welcome to Toronto. Today is the first day of the rest of your life!"

Everyone is already pretty drunk and they're all ordering huge plates of food which Callaghan is paying for.  It's a scene of excess and also extreme boredom. There is no conversation except bragging about money and prizes. The Barbadian novelist on my left falls asleep with his face in his plate. It's not the first time this has happened to me while visiting Toronto. This is Toronto Life.

Getting to her feet, Callaghan's wife Clare presents me with a special gift: a large book of her drawings and paintings with a foreword by D.M. Thomas (author of The White Hotel, a holocaust best seller).

I take it, thanking her, and turn the pages, recognizing the first few images. "Kathe Kollwitz!" I exclaim. "I love her work."

Then it dawns on me her drawings are all copies of Kathe Kollwitz, an east German artist whose work some friends in Montreal used to collect - but apparently no one in Toronto has ever heard of her. And neither has D.M. Thomas. Frankly that's hard to believe but --

For the rest of the evening Clare stares at me with pure hatred. At some point she comes and sits next to me and says "I know who you are and I don't care about people like you. Because I have everything i want and you have Nothing."

I think yeah, and let's keep it like that.

I feel relieved catching the night train back to Montreal where everyone i know is poor but at least I don't have to sit through dinner with zombie writers and artists.

Needless to say I never contacted Callaghan again and he never became my publisher. Sometimes angels protect us or we find our own level.

Some years ago Stephen Williams' home was raided and the police confiscated his computers and files - he was in possession of confidential tapes regarding Karla Homolka that he was not supposed to access. Or something to that effect. I couldn't find any trace of him when I searched.

His book Karla makes it pretty clear that she was MKed from childhood.

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