GOOD

 CAN'T KILL ME

RUST

Strike through

Live through this. 

As wildfires continue to rage and the rest of us continue to close off our senses, the seasons blur away from the mean, and we mourn the losses without considering the source. This world is a shit-show ride and its easy to get caught up in the backdraft of it all. 

Nobody reads this writing anymore, good. One can get caught up in self indulgence when you think there is an audience. True art is not for them, it's an expression. True art is the dying breath of a man who doesn't care anymore for the masses. Art isn't in the details, it's in the ether. It explodes outwards and covers us (perceived or indifferent) in blood and guts. 

Breathe through it. 

Feeling like shit is such an exercise in frustration. Exercising is such a maintenance grind. Living is a grind, life is a crap-shoot. It can get away at any moment and seem a billion miles away from reality. It is (in reality) a trillion miles away from anyone else. If you think any different you are in it for the wrong reasons. 

Without art we are hopeless, with it we are somewhat purposeful. Fuck it, we are all just floating away into that same damn ether. Might as well create something on the way to drowning in it. 

Experience is god. It is the stories we tell, without them we are just going through the motions until we die an unlived life. Get out of your comfort zone, get out of your house, get out of your head. Travelling humans are cool humans, they have none of the trappings of a sedentary life wherever they are from. They generally are not worried about bills, their friend or family issues, or what they are doing a month from now. They are this way because they are truly living in the moment, not acting or telling people they are while they waste their life playing video games or re-watching "Friends" for the millionth time. 

 

 

 

Chemicals

 One day,

we'll stop floating in chemicals

at a loss for the pedestals

since we've always been living

in fear

 

Tomorrow,

we'll start acting on intentions

those familiar engines

that have always been keeping 

us near

 

Yesterday,

we wrapped all the levity 

gave it all for the misery

and left all your endings

in another's unlucky

veneer

 

We'll climb up

and leave the world 

behind

We'll blow up

and finally leave eachother 

this time...

Goodbye

Is this it?

Life IS worth living, until it isn't. People ARE amazing, until they aren't. 

Facing your own mortality is scary business. But it's true... you will die. 

Life can hold so many wondrous and even more terrible things. I love so much about this life, and I abhor so much about what happens during it. 

Music is one of those magical experiences that humans create. I have never been closer to GOD than I have when I am listening to good music. The power that instrument, lyrics and/or a voice can hold, when put together in the right way, is truly indistinguishable from ecstasy or from our ideals of HEAVEN. If you find a song or an album that makes you cry, grin, or gives you goosebumps and that warm feeling everywhere... you've discovered something purely mystical and as close to the good side of the spectral human experience as it gets. 

 

 

I remember hearing "The Dark Side of the Moon" for the first time, or "Kid A." These types of songs transport into another realm of existence. It can be a connection point as well between us, music brings us together. Sharing music with my son and seeing him enjoy some of the same tunes I do is an awesome experience. Some of the better memories with my own dad involve this type of thing. 

Music accentuates our life story. Picture a movie without a soundtrack (if you even can), audio gives us the cues in life that things aren't quite as bad as they sometimes seem. Or it exclaims a celebration. Or it lets you know it's cool to get some rage out and scream away the pain. Or it gives you a hug and tells you it's alright to cry for a bit. In any mood, in any situation music is right there holding us and guiding us along. Music is the seasoning that makes life tolerable. Without it, life can become a batch of unseasoned and tasteless meat and potatoes, they will only keep you going forward amidst the grey dull and boring backdrop of our post-industrial reality; with music we see the full allowance of colour and variety that makes it worth the forward progress (and life tastes better). 

 

True love. This will sound hokey, don't care. When you find someone you are borderline obsessed with, and they are borderline obsessed back and you can both fall into that saccharine, hormonal sweet spot of love... man, that is such a crazy feeling. I had it once, for about 5 years I had this wonderful amazing love in my life, then I fucked it all up. We both did, but I can't lay any blame, we were young and moronically (annoyingly) into each-other in a way that just isn't sustainable. We burned bright and burned out. We grew up, became cynical and probably both started taking various pills to cope with life. I only wish we could have met when we both had money and we could have experienced so much more together. Instead we were college kids with nothing to our names but ambition, ideas and rose-coloured glasses. 

I thought I found that another time, but she turned out to be a bit of the opposite. Life can really mess with you if you are blindly in love with a girl who has little to no ties with reality. So many factors can ruin a person towards you, towards life, towards love. The incredibly hard technique is recognizing the good people. Or the ones who haven't been traumatized enough yet. I fell out of that particular category years ago myself. But at least I was able to experience true love for those 5 short years. Thank you.

My son. My beautiful smart moralistic and loving boy. Do not ever change your spirit, you are pure good when so many are the opposite. 

You needed to be mentioned here Henry, but I will write a post next to fully outline just how much you mean to me, and how much you changed my life forever. I love you like I've never loved anything, or realized that amount of love was possible. Much different than the love mentioned above, this is an ever-lasting, in-extinguishable, bonded and forged love that will never fade. You are my reason for existing.  

Nutshell Musing

I’ll start at the beginning. 

My Dad did not like me. We can’t even begin to describe any sort of love when like wasn’t on the table. He did not like my mom, and he did not like his children, besides maybe one. Even then he treated her like shit as well. He was a bad human who showed a glimmer of good human once every few years, just enough to think he was not a complete asshole. He was an asshole. He was likely UN-diagnosed with mental issues such as bipolar disorder, depression, and some variety of narcissistic personality disorder.

I begin with him because I am still recovering from the years of abuse that he laid upon our family. This is not a “woe is me” type of essay, it is an apology. One domino fell into another until I did some regrettable things that I have to take 100% accountability for. Having regret for your actions and taking accountability are not mutually exclusive events in your life, often they present as two ingredients in the same sandwich. This is what the following writing will entail.

Because my father never liked me, I lived the better part of 30 years oscillating between wondering why, hating myself as much as he appeared to, and making my whole life about trying to gain some sort of affection from a man that was incapable of affection.

At different times in my life, I have tried to drink those memories away, tried to fuck them away, tried to numb myself in any type of fashion available to me to forget, and finally tried to have anyone I met who didn’t show me affection eventually turn around and love me. Spoiler: that does not happen.

So, I struggled my whole life (until now), looking for a way for the world to love me. And I looked for that in the wrong people. The people who were rude, mean and generally terrible people became my mission. My whole reason for existing became to win the worst types of people over. People like my father, people that only cared about themselves and were generally incapable of love, were the ones that I was drawn to.

I was continually shown by these types of people that they disliked me and were willing to show massive disrespect to me at every turn. I of course would lap that shit up, as it became even more enticing to me the worse I was treated. I did this in my romantic relationships, I did this with my friendships, I did this with anyone I had met. I thought (until recently) that I was just showing loyalty and eventually they would see that I was a good person worthy of their affection and praise. When that never came, my self-worth which was tied to this directly, would plummet. And I would lash out against myself for not winning over the affections of bad humans. At times I would internalize, and at times I would have moments of clarity to disrespect shown towards me and lash out. But at the end of the day, it was me I was the issue. You can’t blame a snake for biting you, that is their nature, but you can blame yourself for getting too close to snakes in the first place, and I continually did.

This is not a plea for a returned reputation, that is far behind me. The problem with the types of people that I strive(d) to impress, was that they were often master manipulators. Narcissists with all the charming qualities that accompany them. So, the more I had moments of lashing out because of disrespect, the more they would try to control the situation in their favour and rip me to shreds in order to not have others catch on to the games they are playing.

I am not claiming to be the greatest person. I have many flaws and I have made so many mistakes. But at the end of the day, I have a huge heart, and I would do anything for someone who loved me, I have just been searching for that love in the exact opposite place I should be.

Well, that ends now. From now on I will turn towards the genuine and be incredibly careful when giving any piece of me away to anyone. I will let those know who are important, exactly what they mean to me, and how beautiful I think they are. I also have to make a promise to myself that I will be extra careful and judgmental, as I have already made the mistake of letting snakes in and the inevitable result is a world of pain and snakebite woes.

This is the catalyst for change in my life.

Thank you to all those who are genuine and especially thank you to the snakes for taking this as far as it would go, to show me that there is no succeeding in winning over the type of person my father was.

I still love, and I still care about people immensely. The only thing that has changed is an extra-sensory perception for those who do not love back, never did, and never will.

A Cubano Character Study: A Rambling

All you need is

Something on you feet, and a little bit of money, and a lot of time. This can be the best life imaginable. We are only held in by imaginary bars, unless you are crumbly and criminally minded, then the bars can be very real. 

Don’t be sad that it’s over, be thrilled because you experienced the neon. 

You are good enough to do this. It’s the only way. Don’t let the whole world break you down. A new day will come around. 

Slow dance through airports back home and go gather enough to get back as soon as you can. 

NEON EXPERIENCE. 

 

Genius mf'n Song... listen to it on repeat until it becomes you

 

I’d go dancing in the dark with you anytime. But only the lucky have been around so far. 

Be fine treat the locals with a kindness as familia. Become tight with the locals, BE the local, whatever locality you end up in. Soak in the sun and dance in the rain. From the Favelas to the Penthouse there is always time for dancing. 

Everything is zen, at least I think so. Kiwanuka sang of cold hearts, and if yours was frozen mine will thaw for the both of us. I’ll give it to ya raw with no cookin’ but sometimes the chickens taste flawed and shook. Book it. 

I don’t know how to do anything but love, and some people hate that. I'm a sensitive drama fest half the time and will always wonder why you don’t love me back. 

Mi amore’ es Cuba. I left my heart with the locals and they have returned the favour. I am so grateful for the neon of it all and amazed at how the universe will at times return kindness unconditionally. 

Thank you Cuba, thank you Halifax, thank you Canada. This week has fully restored my faith in humanity and the absolute power of friendship. Thank you too (yes even you), if I don’t know you yet I’d like to get to you soon. 

Hate it or love it the underdogs on top. 

 

🙏 Muchos Gracias 🙏 

In the beginning there was...

He sat up and wondered out loud to nobody, Is this all that life is?

This time of the day always made Hunter ask these questions, it was 1:15 am and he had only woken up a half an hour prior. He looked around the dimly lit and barely furnished bachelor apartment he had called home since he was released from the Educational Holding Centre (or EHC) at age 14. He took a laboured breath of saturated air. In this time he hadn’t bothered with frills or decoration, he was the only one allowed in the apartment and there weren’t many decoration options available anyways.  

As he took a massive gulp of his government issued coffee he got up, cursed his sore back and stared at the single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. No windows meant no sunlight, and Hunter had only seen the actual sunlight a handful of times as a youth as he was transferred from one EHC to another part of town. The Complex he lived in was sealed and in it he had spent the last 15 years of his nights.

“Is this all that life is?” Human nature dictates that that these types of questions are asked by everyone at some point in their lives. Most of the time there is far more to it, we just need to find a way to see the sun once again.

Hunter glanced at his single bed and took off the old and musty blanket he had always thought smelled a bit off. He was allowed to wash one load a week and for the first few months he had always included the blanket but some small tears started to appear and the smell never left, so he gave up on the weekly practice. He now resorted to hanging it in the closet to hide the smell until he slept.

He always felt different than the others around but he was sure this was just another condition of the mind. Everybody feels different he thought, but if everybody feels different than we are all the same in feeling that way.