Triangle Man

Whilst brushing my teeth tonight, the name of a jazz CD I’ve never heard ran through my head. It was called Triangle Man, by John Stetch, a pianist I saw live in Saskatoon probably 12 or 14 years ago. (He had Mike Murley with him, and it was the first time I heard Murley playing anything besides with the Shuffle Demons, and I was impressed.)

Anyway, a bizarre little story–something a bit Poe-like, actually, except, well, weirder–began to take shape in my head, and now, 45 minutes later, I have a 1600-ish-word story which probably could do with a little more tidying, and which may need to be extended so that it’s clearer… well, whatever clearer means, as I’m not quite sure what the story is actually about.

It seems to me to be at least partly a kind of statement that wherever you find yourself in the world of a Gothic Love Triangle, it’s bound to be a better place for you if you are a man than if you are a woman. And whether this is a correctible thing.

Which I suppose is also broaching the issue of the disconnect we sometimes see between gender-politics and biology, the disconnect between the evolutionary differences between the sexes (not the imagiend ones, but the more subtle and important real ones) and the ideals we set up for society in ignoring them.

But it has something of the quality of a fairy tale, or a myth from a foreign land: it’s not quite so transparent to interpretation that I can be quite sure what the hell it’s about.

And I just realized that the title is a pun, an unintended one.

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