The Realest Shit I Ever Wrote

“you’re lucky to be alive, you’re lucky, man!” that’s what my doctor told me today.

a month or two ago a fellow blogger and i were looking at our stats and site hits, i hadn’t done so in a year or 2 and was incredulous to find people all over the world were still actually reading this crap and i just kind of abandoned the blog over here not out of malice or indifference but out of stagnation and ambition. contrary to the belief of an ex lover, i have plenty of fuckin ambition, (ya bish!) i’ve taken upon the task of writing that book i mentioned in here so long ago. not only that, i started a second book to write when i hit writer’s block with the first, you speak of hardcore. i told you, i have ambition, i gots dreams, b and i’m going to realize them if it kills me or rather before it does. what my aspirations lack is time… i don’t have time… not in the everyday busy with work and life kind of way, though that too, but in the i might die kind of way. i may exaggerate for dramatic effect but at the same time i feel it’s true… i know it!

let me just go smoke a cigarette real quick…

i had probably smoked almost 4 packs of cigarettes in 2 days leading up to that surreal midnight drive to the hospital… wondering…

when i was 12-13 years old i started giving some real thought about my own death… by my own hands. i barely had hair on my balls and i was mulling over the idea of suicide. my naive young brain was a little too under developed to realize the audacity and sheer narcissism of these thoughts. i had them though… all the time. all throughout puberty i had myself convinced that i would one day kill myself… jumping off a bridge… i stood on patullo bridge in the middle of the night, staring down when i was bout 15 years old. this is very true. i relate to those kids that take their own lives and yet now at my age i’m just as shocked as those people that didn’t have those thoughts at that age… at least not in a real way… in a less fantastical way. but i knew i was too much of a coward to do it. those kids that do are anything but and i have nothing but contempt for anyone that thinks suicide is cowardly… it’s not bravery either.

anyway, those thoughts dropped as my nuts did. they lingered, they always linger but that’s life, right. it just turns into romance. it turns into tom sawyer watching his own funeral.

at my own hands has been out of the question for years and years and years BUT dying young by means beyond my control hasn’t. never will… especially not now. my idea of young has changed. i’ve always felt i wouldn’t make it to retirement. long time ago i thought it would be an accident or something. that changed after i had cancer as you may or may not have already read about earlier in this blog. i guess my organs and innards are going to kill me rather than my hands.

i was walking down the hall following the nurse after a blood test and ecg after a cold hard sweat… vice grip squeezing my back and chest into each other pushing my heart to the brink of explosion pushing the blood out the left side down my arm and not returning it back up, my brain forgetting to tell my lungs to breathe so that’s what i concentrated on pushing it to do because if i didn’t then who the fuck else was going to breathe for me?!? a lifetime later it passed. see it comes in waves and feeling normal is orgasmic. TRULY ORGASMIC! when that grip lets loose a little and your mind isn’t racked on trying to figure out how to keep you alive, that moment is transcendently sublime. that state of feeling NORMAL… THE ULTIMATE HIGH!

so i asked her, in my euphoria as i followed her down the hall, “so do you know what’s going on??”

“you’re having a heart attack” as matter of fact as she could be.

of course, i am. i’m 33, why wouldn’t i be?!? i knew this like when i knew i had cancer like i know i won’t make retirement like i know i have to finish writing these books before i die.

that night driving home after my friend and i were talking of our blog stats i decided i would write a farewell to you. i would re read everything i’ve written here in this blog so as not to repeat myself in any way and sum up thoughts about love and acceptance of each other and striving to be less judgemental of others, always. i even wrote some notes to get myself started. clearly i’ve discarded all that in light of the subtraction of more time. blame that night last week i was driving to the hospital while having a heart attack. it seems i’ve never really ended a blog post with the same thought i started it with so why i start now.

i feel like i pulled an Irish goodbye on you. and that’s not right because you’re my best friend… my shrink… my lover… you’re like no other and i’m not Irish so this is goodbye for now maybe forever… that’s a small maybe though, i’ll come back to tell you when my books are finished… i’m gonna go try to unravel some mysteries about love and time and life in novel format now.

peace.

Same Love

Over the last year or so I’ve befriended a couple of young bucks, my lil homies... I’ve grown to love them very much over a short period of time... a light they shed bright on my view of the next generation. Bright young men, with maturity and understanding that rival mine and most of my generation.

They’re best friends... 1 is gay... 1 is not...

Hanging out with them I don’t notice and it doesn’t bother me. The 3 of us just chill, drink and listen to music or whatever... although we do pick on the gay 1 sometimes (that sounds really stupid but I don’t feel like making up fake names because it’ll confuse me and wreck my train of thought and I haven’t asked their permission to use their names so I’m just going to call them the “gay 1” and the “straight 1”, ridiculous, I know but that’s what I’m going to do) never in a mean or hurtful way and most of the time not because he’s gay but because of his gentle nature we bust his balls. Kind of like when I’m the only brown guy with a bunch of white friends and my brown balls get busted... anyway, it’s when they pop in my mind when they’re not around, as our friends tend to do, that I think of “gay” and my Neanderthal relation to it...

I considered myself pretty liberal and open until I became friends with gay 1... not that he’s pointing out my wrongs or anything but observing and letting my mind wander and trying to relate to his life I realized how backwards I am... and hypocritical...

Before him my encounters with gay men have been very brief aside from the super friendly and funny man that rented me a room in his home for a week while I was vacationing in NYC, they’ve been either hitting on me (unfortunately more men have professed their lust for me than women) and making me very uncomfortable or friends of friends at parties that aren’t hitting on me but making small talk and not making me uncomfortable at all, maybe just bored and uninterested. Pretty much all of these men save a couple exceptions have been stereotypical... flamboyant... some even OVERLY feminine to the point they make my girliest girl friend seem like Mr. T. I’m not trying to put these people down; I’m simply sharing with you my experience and observations thus far... I never saw myself being more than an acquaintance for the same reason I wouldn’t with someone full of hatred and negativity, not because they were gay but because I would eventually be too irritated to continue that friendship. My closer friends know my low tolerance for annoying people. I’m not mean about it, I just keep my distance... anyway I’m distancing myself from the track at hand...

Sometimes I think about how tough it must’ve been for gay 1 in school and it makes me think of myself as a straight boy and constantly using the words “fag” and “gay” in a derogatory manner... and I STILL do! Not nearly as much, as I’ve made conscious efforts to stop or at least take it down a few notches. I find myself sometimes commenting the word “gay” on someone’s status without realizing and then erasing it and writing “lame” because that’s what I really want to say but that word “gay” has been so ingrained into my everyday language that it just automatically comes out. HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT!?!? It makes me think about “what ifs?” like... what if gay was replaced with “brown”...” man, that’s so brown”... “fuck that, what’re you brown??”  The subconscious toll that must take on a gay person’s self-esteem seems horrendous to me even just because of the simple fact that some of them have probably shrugged it off so much that they’re ok with it and maybe even use it themselves. I’m doing to them what white Americans did to the slaves with the word “nigger”. So when I feel victimized by racism, I should think about how I victimize my gay brothers and sisters.

Gay and straight 1’s friendship is an example of the times the next generation is coming up in... A new enlightening... a new understanding... a new love... the same love our mothers and their mothers fought for a woman’s rightful place in this world... and our daughters will continue to fight if we raise them to be like our mothers and grandmothers... our generation and the our parents’ generation are going to be the last of the dying homosexual haters and the next generation of homosexual haters are going to be laughed at as we do at those crazy hillbilly hicks on fox news.

I know the gay fight has been going on for awhile but the men are coming out left and right now, which is great! 2 of my favourite singers are gay men. The women have been coming out for a long time. I’ve had gay women acquaintances since high school. I think the women have been coming out faster because women in general are more understanding whereas us Neanderthal straight men are much more likely to shun someone that comes out and even act out with intent to physically hurt... not to minimize a woman’s coming out experience... but the fact that more and more gay men are feeling safe to come out is a great sign of progress for all of us as HUMANS... how ludicrous is it that in 2013 I’m talking about how far we’re coming along in love, peace and understanding as if there wasn’t gay people or different races or even women for that matter since the beginning of mankind...

I Don't Wanna Write This Down, I Wanna Tell You How I Feel Right Now

Lack of originality makes me feel old... not grey hairs...

That means I think people with grey hair should neither feel old nor that old people lack originality... it means; lack of originality makes ME feel old; grey hairs don’t...

If you keep up with this blog then you know at the end of the year i suggest a new year’s resolution... you might’ve read about last year being the best year of my life. You might also have come to the conclusion that as the days grow darker so do my innards.

So i... so i... so i spent this year mostly celebrating that fact...

Perhaps a bit too much...

I lost sight of who i am... well... no... that’s a lil dramatic, but the lights dimmed, the music got louder and the whiskey showered... in all the madness and the heavy bass and the fake lights and the sweat... inspiration and motivation evaporated... steam built up and let loose into thin air... wasted... i looked for it... but the lights were dim, b...

i looked for steam in a cloudy haze... such has been my ignorance, my idiocy... irony?!? CONFUSION

Whatever the case, this blog certainly suffered... and when my baby suffers, then..

 

On the superficial side of things im doing quite well; Goes hand in hand with the darkness, in’it!??

Im a homeowner now and am madly in love with it as well as my new city... my new home... more responsibility and bills but they’re welcomed... responsibility, at least.

Uh... uh... uh... uh... ummm...

Im descending, b!

Earlier this year i committed to a monthly monetary pledge to an organization i believe in. I haven’t told a single living soul about it until right now, well, technically, y'all don't live for me to see. (i did heavy research and the organization i choose to give to not only reflects my wishes but also provides enough proof of receiveing and giving that i am comfortable with) I realize i’m just throwing money at a problem and although the money is put forward towards a solution to our ills, there’s nothing i’m doing personally to help... (i applied. i went through three hours worth of interviews; a training session and a year of suspense and eventually got rejected because of something out of my hands that will take another year for me to rectify)... im a faceless cheque... so my innards are still dark...

I’ve lacked empathy... this year...

I feel for others, i swear! and still have that want, almost NEED to help everyone i love and to fix all their problems (which has been my curse at times) but this year i’ve resented myself for it... sometimes i didn’t feel like helping even as i was doing it, and trying hard while doing it... heartlessly... why it felt so hard... im ashamed of that... so i give money... so you see why... why... my innards are still dark...

I’m in the best shape of my life... on the outside... I noticed myself naked in the mirror the other day and realized i look better than i ever have before (don’t drool, ladies, it’s not saying much) and i’m proud of it and i’ve been working hard at it.... most of the time... BUT MY INNARDS ARE STILL DARK!!!

 

Be beautiful so i can reflect it... be bright so i can shine... love so i can feel loved... if you can’t do those things for me then do those things for someone else and watch... WATCH! Watch the difference! (and laugh at my pronounced and exaggeration of sentiment)

I NEED to create so here’s my selfish suggestion for a new year’s resolution: inspire me, b!

The Somnambulist

Escape... anxious, immediatelytorrentiallyanxious... as soon as the step falters over that slinky, slimy, serpentine smoke screen... critical audacity... urgent ignorance... urgent... imminent revelry...

Revel... welcome the outer entity to shift the mental gears and guide the physical mobile to wherever... to nowhere in particular as long as “there” isn’t where home is... where alone is... where authority is... anywhere but authority... anywhere but responsibility... anywhere but others... anywhere but empathy... anywhere but still shoes... anywhere but reality...

Limitless want... endless want... want no other way...

Somnambulism.

Inescapable... impossible freedom... no matter how far gone, reversion is unbreakable law... bendable, maybe, but unbreakable obstinately...

Thirst never dies... dying... trying... keeping... fighting prudence... never succumbing to conscientiousness... tenacious against progress...

No matter the number of times escape is arrested... ignorance will never stop its fight for liberation... THIS IGNORANCE WILL NEVER STOP ITS FIGHT FOR LIBERATION!

Amiss

I used to pride myself on being completely self involved as you might have noticed from some of my posts... or maybe not, i dunno. I didn’t give a shit about anyone outside of my immediate reach... or rather... my being outside of reach and keeping myself that way. My self-absorbed self wanted to be the one that was missed and meantime not caring for or not wanting to care for who might miss me...

there’s PAIN in that...

How selfish of me?!?

there’s a lot of pain in missing, isn’t there!?! Imagine if pain was missing... we wouldn’t miss pain but i bet happiness would be amiss...

I MISS YOU! I MISS YOU! I MISS YOU! YEAH YOU! YOU!

I FUCKING MISS YOU!

I’m missing the living shit out of damn near everybody. I’m feeling the opposite end... the end?? I’m feeling possible ends... i was always a bigger fan of rising action... conclusions never did it for me...

Never Do What They Do

Not that it hasn’t been around forever but lately “image” has been thrown right in my face more than usual. So obsessed with image... we are.

I was at a party recently and a girl said to me, “your beard is so perfect.” ... in a very condescending tone of voice... i was drunk and in a really happy, party mood so i just smiled, ignored and moved on. I couldn’t even tell if i was offended or not. An absolutely silly comment to be offended by but a tone that very much appealed to the “what’s your problem??” part of my brain, which fortunately was out shined by my merry, mirthful mood. (in such situations i find asking “why do you have to be so condescending?” very politely with a smile usually provides the offender optimal embarrassment and shame. After which they will stay out of your way or even better, suck up. Aren’t i a passive aggressive dick!??!). this girl was a complete stranger by the way...

So, needless to say it stuck with me for a few days and had me thinking of image... our image... my image... perceived image... projected image...

To her my beard might’ve been more attractive if i purposely messed it up as to make it look like i don’t care...  which... alkbvnpoehgnfvawnnpoendnvdlk...

Going out of your way and spending more thought and time into NOT LOOKING fake is much worse than just being fake... what happened to “be yourself!”?? seems like in an age where “being yourself” and individuality is encouraged  and championed more than ever we seem to be getting even further from it! People are TRYING TOO HARD to be different and original when it’s not something that should be labored at especially when you’re looking at others for what you want to be. Some people seem to be doing the exact opposite of what it is to be original to be original. Reminds me of the conforming of the non conformist goth kids in south park... JUST BE... JUST FUCKING BE, B!!!

I’m looking to move again and wanting out of my somewhat self imposed suburban trap. I’ve wanted to move to east van for years now as it’s the cultural hub of the lower mainland but i want to be part of a community of like minds as well... which i thought i would get there. After all my experiences and interactions i just find people there to be just as negative and snobbish as the yaletown yuppies... maybe even more! Definitely not a type of community i’d want to be a part of... Broke yuppies pretending to be rich vs. Rich hipsters pretending to be broke... sorry for the generalization and labelling as im sure both areas are peppered with genuine people but what are the chances ill be living next to some. All this has me leaning towards new west but i looked at a place in surrey that makes most practical sense financially and otherwise but it’s across a retirement home and i saw many old couples in the building on my visit.

Am i consciously trying to find a place most fitting my personal needs?? Or am i subconsciously letting image make my decision??

Suddenly living among retired immigrants doesn’t seem so bad.

A Reminder

You know my writing will reach my greatness... right???

between the years 2042 and 2057, i'll have written some of the greatest canadian written work.... might just be 1 book... but what more could i ever ask for???

just a reminder.