Friday, December 31, 2010

At Year's End

Last day of 2010. It feels like it just got here and it's gone.

Poppycock asked me last night what my greatest impression of the year was. I said it was a year of growth and learning. I'm in a stage of my life where I'm either going to continue to change significantly and be more willing to be happy, or I'm going to languish in stagnant behaviour and be an increasingly miserable person. ...I think not.

My birthday is coming. Next week. I'm going to be 38, and it never ceases to amaze me how each approaching birthday comes with the triumph of defeating some previous neurosis that means nothing now, and new tawdry concerns that do a dance in the corner until the day passes and I realize I'm older, wiser, and simultaneously not as old as I feel or as wise as I think I am. Hopefully that's genuine evolution and not just running on the hamster wheel.

Final song of the day spits in the face of that wisdom. It's a song for Scooter. The insanity in my life. We're on another indeterminate break. I can't go back. And yet I know he's not gone. We're not done. I can't be the one to ask for anything more, and my nature will never see me turn him away. It's neither good nor bad. It's merely the narrative between us. There's nothing I can do but stay away. Loving anyone is insanity. If we were wise we'd keep our distance from everyone, and yet the ultimate foolishness is isolation for the sake of fear.

For now... I let everything be. I have no control.

Happy New Year!

Shayne Ward - Obsession

Baby baby what can I do? I need to know that I belong

Belong with you
Yeah with you
Baby baby what can I say
The more you play those wicked games
The more I stay
The more I stay

Teacher be concerned
I want it so bad right now it hurts

Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I’m in obsession
I’m in obsession

Baby baby don’t make me beg
I only want to give up air
Breathe you instead
You instead
Baby baby just ring the bell
And I’ll be staying after class
Under your spell
Yeah, your spell

Teacher be concerned
I don’t think my lesson’s been learned

Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession

Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession

Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession

Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession

Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession

Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession

Monday, December 27, 2010

Honest Uncle

"You can leave now".

This is what my socially awkward, hermit uncle Bob said to me on christmas day 5 minutes after I arrived at his house with a plate of food and a pie, and a gift from my mother.

For all his nasty behaviour over the years, I have to smile a little at his honesty. His life hasn't been good. He doesn't like people. My mom's a crazy bitch. He grew up surrounded by emotionally stunted people. He has epilepsy, and was taught to be ashamed of it by his father. He has no reason to be nice in his mind.

It was a live enactment of "Scrooge" in a way that didn't offend me. I don't like people either. I just don't want to end up like that. I don't think it's possible, but still. It's nice to have a living road sign that tells you to turn back.

Happy Holidays uncle Bob. Your honesty is refreshing. Pity is an empty sentiment.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

I Feel You

I'd like to acknowledge to anyone who might come along and read the stuff I talk about, ...Yes. I'm aware of how gay I sound. ; )

"Urban precious slob" is my term. I coined it. It's me. I'm a little bit hippy, very big picture, self-superior, egocentric, ego-checkin', sometimes morbid, rarely present, man. And if you meet me, or read what I have to say and go "what the fuck", it's mostly because I'm one of "these". If I'm trapped in a moment, or absorbing the social atmosphere of a room, it's not unlike me to ask someone to repeat themselves. I read people "feelings first". It's pompous, presumptuous and 9 times out of 10, a reliable basis for my assessment of peoples character and how I should interact with them.

In my opinion, "empath" is often confused and completely indistinguishable from the labels "softy/geek", "internal", and "brooding".

It's also exhausting.

But yeah, just in case anyone ever wonders if I know how "gay" I sound, I will observe of myself that flamboyance is at it's height in me when I write, and truthfully, I kind of embrace that. Because most of my waking life is spent listening and absorbing the neurosis and abuses and self-consumption of the masses, or... ...obsessing about things and people. When a person obsesses over "nouns", he's not seeing the whole big picture. It takes some big picture thought to realize this short-coming in yourself. What does it take to quiet it, and invent/contribute to the picture?

Working on it.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Perfect Winter Evening

Who had a perfect, perfect winter evening last night? Why me!!

I met up with two of my friends, ("Buju" and "Puppy") that I haven't seen since well before Halloween, and we went to the Kensington Market Winter Solstice "Festival of Lights". It's not like we did anything spectacular besides commune and get caught-up, but the combination of company and events just left me feeling cozy and a little more willing to open myself up to the beauty I tend to forget comes along with this time of year. The night was perfectly cold and dry, which made the crowded streetcar ride tolerable for the heat it provided. Buju filled us in on her break up with her boyfriend of many years, and Puppy filled us in on his adventures in dating since he's decided he's ready to move on and find someone new. We walked through Kensington, which is fun even when there's nothing going on. There was a small crowd on the street, but as we walked we heard drums and caught sight of folks walking up Queen street with lanterns on sticks. We followed the festive parade-of-sorts and ended up in a school yard baseball diamond where the drummers joined a larger troupe and then things turned tribal. It was awesome. Beating drums, fire dancers, and a clear sky with the moon smiling on the CN Tower. The longest night of the year, celebrated with the burning of a ceremonial wooden sculpture. After the crowd dispersed, we walked back through the market and happened upon Wanda's Pie in the Sky. Puppy had a berry bar, Buju had apple crisp, and I had pecan pie. And we all had the most amazing hot chocolate, made with real chocolate.
If that wasn't good enough, I spotted a really cute guy that plays in my volleyball league. The first time I saw him I chatted him up somewhat awkwardly because I thought he was really sexy. I was pleasantly surprised last night that he recognized me and said hi. We traded smiles and a brisk conversation across crowded tables. He told me he works there at Wanda's. This may result in me eating more pie. He's from New Zealand and he's really adorable. Maybe I'll be smitten and free of Scooter. Maybe just maybe. I can hope.

Incidentally, both Buju and Puppy are from Spain. Catalonia and Barcelona respectively. I met them both through Lion while he was living in Canada. Love them Spaniards!

Anyhow, I'm off to a party tonight at Peachy's place. So I gotta run.

Kay Starr "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm"

The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing
But I can weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm.
I can't remember a worse December
Just watch those icicles form!
What do I care if icicles form?
I've got my love to keep me warm.

Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
I need no overcoat, I'm burning with love!
My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher
So I will weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm.


Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
I need no overcoat, I'm burning with love!
My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher
I will weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love, I've got my love,
I've got my love to keep me warm.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Sheepless Goat

I cannot wait for the holidays to be over. If that makes me a Scrooge, so be it. There's a certain level of "normal" I'm hoping to rediscover by the time February or March rolls around. ...Pending the luxury of still having a job by then.

Poppycock hung out with me on Friday night. I've missed him. Since he's been in "new relationship" mode, he's been justifiably preoccupied. I don't hold it against him, but it doesn't change the fact that he's pretty absent from my life. We had a good time though. 'Ordered pizza, drank wine, talked, smoked a joint. I cried a little over Scooter to him. He talked to me about the stresses of his job. (He has a really emotionally taxing job, working with people who abuse and are abused.) And after introducing him to the amazing Sci-Fi show that is Farscape, he did a Tarot Card reading for me. The cards unanimously agreed that I am one sad panda, and that I need to love myself more. Granted, one doesn't need Tarot to determine these things about me. One only needs to be a close friend... which Poppycock happens to be. So I do take these readings with a grain of salt, but I've seen his gift with matters supernatural, so that grain of salt, comes with a considerable amount of respect. That, and PC knows, my stubborn goat heart is gonna do, what it's gonna do.
The first round with the Tarot cards is always a question of detail. I asked them if I should be worried about my job. The second round is a "Yes or No" question, of which I inquired (very uncharacteristically) if I would be coming into any money soon. PK, had a firm picture in his head that the cards wanted to talk to me about my love life, even after the reading when I told him I asked about money, he was insistent that the four cards pulled were very distinctly about 2 boys in my life. I'm presuming Lion and Scooter. One of them was definitely Scooter. The other boy could be someone who's about to enter my life within the next 2 months.
Nonetheless, I didn't ask the cards about my love life. I quite simply didn't want to know. Partially because as much as I love PK, his Cancerian nature is all-too-willing to dispense advice in matters of the heart, and I already know where he stands on Scooter. But the "Yes or No" was a "Maybe". In PK's mind, that was pertaining to who I would end up with. He said it could still go other way, but I need to consider my happiness.
If the cards were truly trying to answer my "actual" question... y'know... about whether I'd come into any money, a "maybe" isn't really helpful. But considering my earthliness, I don't really have much business consulting cards when I know that things like finances don't just fall in your lap. Well, rarely. Truthfully... I'd like to confess that I was in a round-about way, asking the cards if the uncle who recently specified in his will that I was to receive half of everything he owns when he passes, would indeed be passing anytime soon. Not very nice of me. I certainly don't wish him any ill.

Time to go. The days before Christmas are certainly full of places to be and people to see.

Song of the day, in favour of the holidays is Count Your Blessings. It was originally made popular by Bing Crosby in the movie "White Christmas". This rendition was in Amy Grant's most recent Christmas special (which was about 9 or 10 years ago at this point). It's so peaceful, and the set is Christmas personified.

Count Your Blessings (instead of sheep) - Amy Grant and Cece Winans

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

Wednesday, December 08, 2010

Hello December

I've been really sick, and really depressed. Those are my only two excuses for the blog lag.

Happily all went well with the neurologist appointment. He was a very kind doctor. Kind and compassionate, and intuitive. I found myself wishing he were my therapist rather than Dr Truth. But at any rate, he acknowledged/diagnosed my condition and told me I would be seeing him once a year to monitor its progress, and assured me that it's no cause to worry, and I do not display the symptoms of Parkinson's or MS. (Which were what I was largely afraid of.) To say I was relieved is putting it mildly.

Today was the first day this week that I went to work, but I left early because I'm still pretty ill. For 5 days now I just can't seem to feel comfortably warm. The weather's turned cold since the weekend and took my blood with it, it would seem.

So right now I'm wrapped in a blanket (doing battle with the wheels on my desk chair) and waiting for my laundry to finish, so I can throw it all in the dryer. I really had no desire to venture into the cold basement, but given the alternative of running out of clean underwear, I have braved the laundry room in the name of Joe Boxer. The real trick here, will be resisting the urge to bury myself in toasty-warm clothing when all that laundry comes out of the dryer. I may do just that before I do any folding.

On the Scooter front, we had a date on November 29th. As per usual, not as planned. Originally, he had said he'd take me to some great restaurant he loves (his treat) but when it came down to it, we went to Subway because he spends all his money on weed and his Christmas shopping has only just begun. No matter. All I've ever wanted is time with him. I got to meet his 3 month old kitten, Zoey. I took pictures of her with my new camera, that I got from Airmiles that day. We spent the evening watching The Munk Debates which I both fascinating and frustrating. I loved that they could have SUCH a civilized discussion with opposing view points for one. But I found it frustrating that such a poised and eloquent man as Tony Blair could be arguing in favour of religion. I don't know if someone less civilized would have satisfied me more, or what. But I found it strangely non-gratifying that his points were (in my opinion) so lame and candy-coated. Christopher Hitchens barely had to speak at all to debunk everything Blair said. In itself, I should find that rewarding given my stance on religion. I'll just leave it at that. I really enjoyed that Scooter wanted to watch it though.
By the end of our evening, he was of course high, and I was rubbing his feet. Putting him to sleep with a foot rub was preferable to getting him sexually aroused with a back rub, which he requested and I declined, knowing it would only lead to more mixed-messages and time apart. When he did fall asleep, I kept rubbing his feet for a while, watching he and Zoey asleep in his chair, and reminiscing about nights we've spent together in the past, that I'd probably sell my soul to repeat. Then, I gently woke him and told him I was going home.
We hugged. We kissed. We nuzzled. And I headed for my coat and shoes.
We kissed again, more passionately, which he ended.
I said good bye.
He said we'd talk soon.
I left, feeling more sexually aroused than I've ever felt.
We have not spoken since then.

And that... leaves me thinking yet again, with little doubt, that he is fucking with my heart yet again.

I don't understand it. I don't want to delve into it. I just know that the pictures of Zoey I sent him on the first (before the appointment, I expressed so much fear over - to him as well) is the last e-mail I will send him. There was no reply. Not even a "thanks". No inquiry into how I am after seeing the neurologist. And no discussion of further plans to see one another.

Long ago (weeks) was the last text message from me, and weeks before that was the last phone call from me. I just can't try anymore.

He doesn't contact me. He doesn't reply when I contact him. He does... not... care... about... me.
I can only conclude, that he invited me back into his life after almost 7 months of silence, just to show me yet-again, how little he cares about me. And I let him do it.

I can flip-flop between indignation, and determination on the head of a pin. Excuse his behaviour because he's just so fucking dysfunctional and damaged, and condemn his behaviour for the same reasons, but in light of what would seem a pretty cut-and-dried decision that he doesn't deserve anything I have to offer... I still love him. And though for my own good, I'm not going to try anymore, I will be here for him if he needs me. At least that's what I'm saying in this five minute interval. Ask me again in the next.

I guess I did want to delve into it. Of course I did.

Move on Johnny. Move on. Don't just walk away. Run.

There is nothing he could do at this point in time to make me believe he loves me in any capacity, as a friend or lover. I just can't give up on him. WHY!!!!!???? Why is my learning curve so long and slow? Why do I value this broken boy over my own self-worth?


If I've never mentioned before, my bedroom is aligned with the building's elevator shaft. I hear the movements of all 3 elevators diving and raising, night and day. Over the past few days, much of which I've spent in bed, I've noticed one of them making the most disconcerting noise. It's alarming. Almost like a metallic "yelp". I don't know which one obviously, or even whether it's ascent or descent. But is that the kind of thing I should report to the superintendent? I think I just answered my own question. And I think I'll do it right now. ...There. Did it. And the super, (ever-charming) said with a sigh, he'd call the elevator company tomorrow. Whether or not he does is another thing entirely, but at least an accident won't be on my conscience.

In other boring news, I'm quite pleased with myself that I replaced a CD/DVD burner in my computer. This is noteworthy because I have never opened a computer casing before, much-less removed or installed any hardware. I wouldn't have done so at all, had I not been tutored and assured by "Totty", our computer engineer at work. I did it, perched high on my balcony on Saturday, before I was feeling so deathly ill. (catalyst perhaps - 'cause it was so fucking cold.) I had to do it out there because "Totty" told me the casing would be filthy, since it was a dusty tomb that had never been opened in four years. Which it really was.
Since I did the deed though, and got it all back together successfully, my computer has been running so QUIET - Holy cats man! The fan has either been disabled (not beyond the realm of possibility) or doesn't need to run anymore because the circuit boards were cleaned with a can of compressed air. It's made talking on Skype with Lion so much more easy. (because I don't have to mute my microphone after everything I say to drown out the sound of the fan) - Nice.

Though I still haven't taken it upon myself to burn a CD to see whether the hardware works. *blush*

Tonight I may just finish off Season 3 of Arrested Development and go to bed early. I've cruised through so many episodes, so easily because it really is as good as it's acclaimed to be. Hysterical really.

I leave you with a song by Canadian indie artist Peter Katz, whom I first heard on CBC 2 months ago. There are no (written) lyrics for me to share with you (if only because I'm too lazy to transcribe it.) but he sings with great clarity, so you should be able to hear the words pretty well. This video contains a story of how the song came to be and the recording of Peter's part. It's pretty touching. 'Something I needed to finish a "why not give up" day with. I encourage you to give a click and listen to "Oliver's Tune" (this link contains the finished song) (but use the mp3 player in the top right hand corner, not the video, which is a tutorial of how to play the song).

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Swing Pendulum Swing

Scooter and I didn't have our "date" last night. He called me up with a list of things he needed to get done and the things he didn't tell me were just as loud as the things he did. He's troubled. Which of course makes me want to rescue him. Which of course he does not want. So of course I will not offer.

What I did offer was to postpone our evening together til next week, which he initially accepted, and rescheduled for Monday... he then said we could get together last night, just to eat and part company -and- get together on Monday. I said "sure". He said "call me when you get off work" and I was happy that I was going to violate my own boundaries and see him twice in the span of a few days. But then, 10 minutes before I was going to call him, he called me, said he "was running late" and needed to just get together Monday.

He also expressed that he broke up with his boyfriend, really wanted to talk to me and had lots to tell me about.

It's funny how I could spend the better part of a week thinking of ways to tell him that I don't think I can give him anything anymore based on how he treats me, and within the span of a few minutes on the phone I surmise he thinks the distance between us right now is strictly for my comfort and doesn't know that anything is wrong. He tortures me. Or is it just "me" torturing me?

Far more likely the latter, with a good dose of the former.

He's such a private person, and so guarded. What little he gives me seems to be such a sacrifice for him, like he thinks he's giving me way more than he actually is.

If I didn't love him, I wouldn't be here. But then, it's not my feelings I question.

He's 25 years old, irresponsible, messed-up, repressed and directionless.
Head says run. Frequently. Heart says he's the one. More frequently. Almost constantly. Head says all I want to do is rescue him. Heart says he's an amazing man who hasn't realized it yet. Head says he'll never know what he wants unless you cut and run and let him come back to you. Heart says he needs a friend more than a lover right now, and I can't seem to detect the presence of any other man with a soul so like mine.

Tick tock. Stay, go. Tick tock. Love, run. I wonder if there's any Libra in me? That I can't make the decision to walk away. A Capricorn will believe in love with his last breath, even if it's the cause of his last breath, I'm thinking.

Do I deserve someone who loves me unconditionally? Yes. Am I convinced that person isn't Scooter? Absolutely not. Am I fucking delusional? Probably. But I'm only a danger to my emotional self.

Ray LaMontagne - "Let It Be Me"

There may come a time, a time in everyone's life
Where nothin' seems to go your way
Where nothing seems to turn out right
There may come a time, you just can't seem to find your place
For every door you walk on to, seems like they get slammed in your face
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call.
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend that you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Feels like you're always comin' on home
Pockets full of nothin' and you got no cash
No matter where you turn you ain't got no place to stand
Reach out for something and they slap your hand
I remember all to well
Just how it feels to be all alone
You feel like you'd give anything
For just a little place you can call your own
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you cant go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Shaky on Every Front

My anxiety is taking over.

I have an appointment with a neurologist on December 1st. As this date approaches, the fear I have about it gets a stronger foothold. I realize that fear in the face of something that needs investigation is pretty counter-productive, but I'm still afraid. For years now, I have noticed an increasing tendency for my hands to shake. Sometimes it's inhibiting to performing tasks. You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I have very weak hands. Opening jars and bottles is an ordeal.

Of greater concern to me... the shaking has gotten significant enough for people to not only notice, but comment... a lot. I've inherited it from my father. He used to shake quite a bit. But according to my mother, he would never visit a doctor to have it examined. He didn't like doctors. He didn't like hospitals. No small irony that he died in one. But at any rate, if he did have some neurological disorder that he could genetically pass on to his son, I'm soon to find out. And I'm quite thoroughly terrified.

It could be nothing. It could be emotional stress. It could be that I need to set aside 10 minutes per day to scream and cry like a crazy person. As emotional as I am, I feel repressed. I feel like a person who's screaming and crying on the inside. Have you ever seen that episode of Six Feet Under where David has a waking dream of screaming during a funeral? I'm reminded of that.

Insecure thoughts are circling and rattling my cage. I'm thinking of how my parents had me late in life. I'm thinking of the legacy of poor health in each of their families. All of my uncles and aunts on my father's side, are all gone. 10 of them. All dead. My father was the youngest, and he's been gone for almost 19 years. The siblings on my mother's side including my mother are all still alive, and I figure if I can avoid the plague of obesity they all suffer from, I can dodge a few of the bullets they've all taken.

I have no delusions of living forever. And I don't think I'm afraid to die per say. I just don't want to be sick. I don't want to suffer and degenerate. Given the fact that I'm (as I've pointed out ad nauseum) alone in life, the prospect of being unable to care for myself is frightening. But I suppose no-more-so than the thought of sentencing a loved one to care for me.

Couple this (perhaps irrational) concern with the take-over at work... the approach of Christmas... my collapsing faith in any hope of a friendship/relationship/anything with Scooter... my overall stress of social interaction... and the pressure of merely existing....
And I think I've got a pretty good recipe for an all-systems-failure.

Taking a serious look at my health, and the potential to be really unwell, sheds a light on the fact that nothing really matters, but I don't know that I "live" that knowledge... so maybe a crisis, whether real or manufactured could be just what I need.

Shut it down. Shut it all down. Everything that's not key to my existence. The friends and family who don't bother. The job that, if lost, could force me into action I've never had the courage to take. Shut down the worry. Shut down the mother fucking future I cannot see and cannot change and could not affect otherwise. Shut it down. I don't want to think about it.

I want to be a tree. I want to long for nothing more than the sun hitting the greenery and the water that nourishes the roots. Fuck health problems. Fuck worry. Fuck being loved. Fuck being known. Fuck ever wanting to please another human being on this doomed ball of dirt. Fuck it all, for tomorrow I could be forced down by winds. Struck down by lightning. Cut down by some unwitting lumberjack. Today. This moment I still stand.

I stand and spout empty words about bravery and apathy I don't possess.

And I go that much more crazy.


I missed my appointment with Dr Truth today. Totally forgot about it. You'd think my mind would be on therapy given how stricken I feel. I'm going to be penalized 120-dollars for missing the appointment. Which makes me think I should stop making appointments in the event that I'm going to fuck-up and miss them. I can't afford to miss them. And it's not that I have issue with the concept. Dr Truth's time is valuable. I have to make appointments well in advance because his calendar is full. When someone just doesn't show up, it's a waste of his time. That doesn't alter the fact that I can't afford a 120-dollar fuck up. Yet, my co dependence asserts itself in the pattern of thought, that without him, I will have absolutely no one to listen to me fall apart. And my ego can't handle falling apart all by myself now, can it?

Last night I went to visit my soon-to-be-nephew in the hospital. He was in Toronto (or Markham rather) to have a hernia operated on. I didn't really want to go. It was a case of feeling it wouldn't matter to him whether I did or not anyway. I don't know him very well, and thought it might even seem weird that I would go and visit him, but... he was all alone with no family up here, in a boring hospital in the middle of nowhere. So I went. He's a nice kid. I like him a lot. Mind you, I took the opportunity to deliver the bad news that I can't afford to go to their destination wedding in January.
It took me an hour and a half to get there, and even longer to get home because I don't know the transit system up there very well, and missed a bus on the way back. It turned-out to be a blessing. I had to wait an hour, so I took refuge in a Shopper's Drug Mart and bought things I've been meaning to buy, but for whatever reason, haven't. I picked up the November issue of Details magazine with Chris Pine on the cover... band aids, tissues, peroxide, nail clippers (to replace the ones I sucked up the vacuum cleaner by accident) and probably most importantly... a bottle of Valerian Root. I wish I had some right now as a matter of fact. I've used it before for anxiety. There's really no reason why I should ever not be taking it. It brings on a wonderful wave of calm. Which makes up for it's horrible smell. (wet dog in a bottle anyone?)

I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my problems that pale in comparison to the hardship that faces so many other people. I am grateful to be alive. To love and learn, and feel disenchanted with the whole ordeal. I am grateful to be creative enough to even wish to be a tree. And though it causes me self-afflicted misery... I am grateful to be self-aware. It simply must be better than ignorance and oblivion. Ok gratitude... stay with me. Balance me, ground me, heal me. I need your help so badly.

Rattling chains, fine-tuning the probe... unfurling the wings... the ghost-alien-angel will dwell among the humans another day.

Today's song of the day, is by Amy Grant. I will forever love this woman. I don't believe as she does, but if ever a true christian existed, I think it's her. So I'm not waiting for Jesus, but these lyrics speak to me anyhow. It's a great song.

Amy Grant - The Water

Quick sand
My heart is sinkin'
I try to run
But I can't stop thinkin'
I'm climbin' walls
I'm on the ceilin'
It's gonna take a miracle to heal me

I'm starin' down
Into the quarry
I see a stone
For every sorry
I'm on the edge
I'm goin' under
And after I die
I'm gonna rise from the water (oooh)

I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean

The sky is red, there's
Blood on my hands
I can't deny
I'm guilty where I stand
The verdict's in
I hear them shoutin'
Send me a river to drown this mountain (oooh)

I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean

Wash me clean

(Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me)

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Leaving "Everything But Poopie" Behind

Upon contemplating the complete abandonment of this blog in favour of something completely anonymous, I decided it would be a better idea to simply go forward with a new title.

I have one follower who checks in on a semi-regular basis, so it's not like there's much ceremony to engage in. Cheers to you lone reader. : )

The name "What I Leave Behind" is meaningful to me on a few levels, though it may seem a tad morbid. I am a tad morbid person. (I say this with a laugh.) First and foremost, everything I write here, I leave behind. I may say things time and again, but the words are, and will be, a part of my past. Hopefully dealt-with, celebrated or grieved with honest emotion.

When I started writing in this space I was a different person. The name "Everything But Poopie" was playful, and well-suited to all of my musings about being a dog owner.

I just noticed, that if you remove the letters "o" and "g" from "dog owner", you get "downer".


I want to leave "myself" behind. In whatever I write. I want to leave a trail of who I am and the scope of what I felt, loved and cared for. Even if it only ever matters to me alone.

There's no goal to be known by those who don't already know me. I just want to leave a picture of "who I am", (or who I was) to anyone who does know me, to find when I'm gone. That sounds positively suicidal, but it's not. Self-indulgent maybe. But the intention is just "hey, I'm mortal".
And quite simply, I need to take everything that's so painfully inward, and release it. To be "known" for what makes me, me. That includes the things that amuse, move and inspire me. Not just anguish.

Therapy. Legacy. Biography. Emotion, wisdom, foolishness and ego.

Carved into the tree bark of the internet...

John was here.

Open Letter to Scooter

Tomorrow we meet again for dinner, and precious time spent together. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I wish you could see me the way I see you.

I wish my love were tangible and enveloping.

I wish I could properly convey how beautiful you are and how you consume me. I wish my words could be spoken. I wish you could know how I ache for you, only so you'd know how deep it goes and how safe you would be with me. How I long to keep you safe and give you everything I have to offer.

My love is so true.

It's so real.

It's so unrealized and forlorn. I wait for you.

I wait for you to see me and to love me back without any doubt or fear of abandonment.

I wait for you.

Or I wait for some other man to free me from the sad delusion I suffer from, that my waiting will be with reason and that we would be strong and true together.

Such a delusion. Like you can't break "broken".

I love you so much.
So deep.
So relentless.
So nurturing.
With such lust.
With such single-sighted longing.
With such a desire to think of you as my family.

I love you.

I love you.

Though it may yet break me.
Though you may never love me back.
I love you still.

Beautiful Music

Janelle Monae - Smile (by Charlie Chaplin)

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

artist: nat king cole
-peak billboard position # 10 in 1954
-competing versions charted by sunny gale (#19) and david whitfield (#25).
-also charted in 1959 by tony bennett (#73); in 1961 by timi yuro (#42); in
-1962 by ferrante and teicher (#94); and in 1965 by betty everett and jerry
-butler (#42).
Words by john turner and geoffrey parsons and music by charlie chaplin

Monday, November 22, 2010

Productive Nothing Day

I took the day off work today. I'm still burning off unused holiday time from 2010, which sounds normal enough except that in my employment world, it's now 2011, and I've still got 2 more days to use up before the "big move".

A day off should be something good. Why don't you be the judge of whether mine has been? I woke up at 8. Took out the recycling. Ate my breakfast, took my vitamins, watched porn, went to the laundromat, came home, walked to the grocery store for a bag of chips and a 2 litre bottle of Pepsi (pop is a rare treat) watched 4 episodes of Arrested Development (which is one of the funniest, most-enjoyable contributions to my life right now), ate lunch, potted a new plant, bought every Adam Lambert song I enjoy from iTunes, cleaned-out my iPod a little, made my bed with the bedding I washed at said laundromat, discovered I'd lost my fabric softener on the way home from the morning excursion, retraced my steps and found the fabric softener (eureka!), moped, contemplated smoking pot but decided against it because I still want to vacuum, now I'm blogging while I do my regular laundry downstairs. Oh yes, and I forgot to mention all the time I've spent thinking about Scooter all the while this funtastic day has been unfolding.

I am a lonely man. Not necessarily miserable, but dreadfully, unspeakably, alone.

And keeping a strong attitude about it. Learning to just exist with it. I say this because I wouldn't describe this day as depressing. I've certainly kept myself occupied.

For a 3 day weekend though, this one has sucked tremendous. You can feel the pull of the suction. The slurp of time and energy being drained as though from a valve in my private store.

That's not to say Friday night with Pugs wasn't fine and dandy. And Saturday's trip to Costco and afternoon/evening of pizza and substance abuse with Peachy and McMac wasn't fun. Even hanging out with Lactose and Skatz was ok. I've never mentioned them before because I have to take Lactose in small doses (ha! No, really.) Skatz is Lactose's boyfriend, and I like him well enough. I went to the Santa Claus parade with them, and then hung out at their apartment yesterday afternoon.
They're a happy/miserable couple who will break up messily one day. I hope I'm wrong.
I spent the majority of my time sleeping on their couch at any rate. They wanted to watch movies, and I don't know if it was the chill of being outside for the parade or the sleep deprivation of having the dogs all week, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open.

I ran into a guy from volleyball on the subway home from their place. I won't name him in the event that he requires a nickname later on, but he's really cute and kind of shy. We talked for my entire trip home. (He was headed farther north.) I really got a good feeling about him. I'm not going to allow myself any happy fantasies about him beyond that, but I may ask him for a date if he's even remotely happy to see me the next time we run into each other at volleyball. Why not? He's cute, articulate and nice. Why not.

I wish I could feel better about the productivity of this day. I didn't do my workout, or my stretching routine. I didn't do my morning pages, or work on any of my writing. Had I done any of those things I wouldn't feel so guilty.

But now, it's late enough to just wait for Lion to log on to Skype, retrieve my laundry, fold it, and vacuum. I have to vacuum. The dog hair is crazy and I don't want to track any into clean bedding tonight.

What a boring blog entry. Sorry.

Hopefully you'll enjoy my guilty pleasure, Adam Lambert. Mind you, I'm not really guilty about it. I really do love him. As a person I find him quite admirable. As an artist, he's nothing if not entertaining and talented.

Adam Lambert - For Your Entertainment (Brad Walsh remix)

So hot, out of the box
Can we pick up the pace
Turn it up, heat it up
I need to be entertained
Push the limit, are you with it?
Baby don't be afraid
Imma hurt you real good baby

Let's go, it's my show, baby, do what I say
Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display
I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed
Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name

No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on until it's over

Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment

I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment

S'all right
You'll be fine
Baby I'm in control
Take the pain
Take the pleasure
I'm the master of both
Close your eyes, not your mind
Let me into your soul

I'm gonna work it 'til your totally blown

No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on 'til it's over

Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment

Oh I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment

Do you like what you see?
Let me entertain ya 'til you scream

Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment

I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment

Friday, November 19, 2010

How I Met Pugs

Going to have dinner with Pugs tonight. Yummo, yummo, yummo... we're having Chinese take-out from China House restaurant on Eglinton West. It's a celebratory dinner because she got a 6-month contract job that she starts on Monday. I'm really happy for her. And quite proud of her too. Pugs is my 59 year old friend who lives one floor down from me in my building.

We sometimes go to the movies, sometimes play cards, and she quite frequently invites me over for dinner. She's a nice lady, and though she's lonely, she's assertive and social and when she has no friends, she introduces herself to strangers.

I know this, because that's how we met.

2 years ago when I was still a dog-owner, I used to run into Pugs in the elevator with her little dog "Suzette". We communed as most dog owners do with the good fortune of having dogs that don't want to kill every other dog they encounter.

You get 3 guesses what breed of dog she has, and the first two guesses don't count.

When I first met Pugs, she kind of spooked me a little, because she was so forward and a little socially awkward. But... loneliness does that. I'm learning first hand. Sometimes the mere act of speaking to strangers seems to project a second holographic head beside your real one for people to gawk at as they reach for non-existent pepper spray.

The first time Pugs and I had a significant conversation was the day she saw me toting around a book. (not an unusual sight) It was the Time Traveler's Wife. She's an avid reader, and took full advantage of the opportunity to ask me what I thought of the plot, and since I was loving it, I told her so. The next time I saw Pugs, she told me she'd picked-up a copy of the book and was reading it too.

One day she kinda cornered me in the elevator and just blurted out, "John, are you gay"? Bold, top-of-the-mind inquisition that brought a smile to my face. I replied, "Yes I am". And she was pleased that I would admit it to her. She said she wondered because I always referred to the dogs being with "my ex" every second week, and never saying ex "girlfriend" or "wife". Pugs also wanted me to know she had no issues with gay people and she was worried that we'd never be friends if I couldn't tell her. She then asked me if we could be friends outright, to which I replied with more than a little inward trepidation that we could.

I'm a little ashamed to admit that, because really, being friends with Pugs has added a wonderful element to my home life. It's really nice to have a friend who lives in another apartment in your building. We've borrowed things from one another. I've helped her with things she couldn't do on her own, looked after plants, and I'm going to look after Suzy for her for a weekend in January. And she cooks for me, and lends me books, and quotes me poetry and tells me stories. We take turns paying when we go to movies and restaurants. It's kind of like having a mother who's a friend.
Admittedly, I don't treat her like a mother, because I have issues with her getting too close, because she can be a little ...eccentric, and demanding. But for the most-part, I really do enjoy being friends with Pugs, and like that I can help her and be company. I don't want to even allude to it being charity, because she's been a friend and company for me too. It's not like I'm mister popular.

Pugs is a kind woman. She's led an emotionally difficult life, and she doesn't wield her solitude like a crutch. I admire her. Even if she thinks her dog is actually speaking to her.

Perhaps a stage in life that waits for me too.

Elvis Presley - "Are You Lonesome Tonight"

Are you lonesome tonight,
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

I wonder if you're lonesome tonight
You know someone said that the worlds a stage
And each must play a part.
Fate had me playing in love you as my sweet heart.
Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance
You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue
Then came act two, you seemed to change and you acted strange
And why Ill never know.
Honey, you lied when you said you loved me
And I had no cause to doubt you.
But Id rather go on hearing your lies
Than go on living without you.
Now the stage is bare and I'm standing there
With emptiness all around
And if you wont come back to me
Then make them bring the curtain down.

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Global Anxiety

This morning I was listening to an interview with Joe Pantalone on CBC radio one. He just recently lost the race for Mayor of Toronto to Rob Ford. Mr Pantalone has been in politics for 30 years. He’s articulate. He seems thoughtful, intelligent and pleasant. Everything Rob Ford appears “not” to be.

The host asked Joe Pantalone what he thought could be the reason behind Toronto’s swing to a Conservative mindset, and he gave the most likely answer I’ve ever heard. He said “the world is in the grip of global anxiety”, and people when faced with fears tend to look for answers in the safest way. (I’m paraphrasing.)

I can’t help but wholeheartedly agree that that is exactly why a right-wing conservative mentality is on the rise. Fear.

The Conservative Party of Canada just killed Bill C-311, (requiring the federal government to set regulations to bring greenhouse gas emissions 25% below 1990 levels by 2020, and to set a long-term target to bring emissions to 80% below 1990 levels by 2050) furthering my belief that Stephen Harper and his cronies don’t give a rat’s ass about the environment.

People can control economies… (for the time being) until such time that our planet says “no more”. The “global anxiety” that Mr. Pantalone spoke of, is quite real. But I don’t think the heart of it is a financial recession. Granted, people having no means to support themselves or families is of huge concern to everyone.

I happen to think natural disasters are of bigger concern. And caring for our home… this planet… the only one we have… is of much greater importance than securing economies that will fall when the earth can no longer sustain us. “You can’t conduct business in a burning building”.

Global anxiety could be triggered at a very low-level of consciousness within us when our habitat is threatened. Volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, flooding, fires, storms… I’d say we’re getting our fair share of threats to our existence as a species. Religious folk (ie: my mom) wag a finger and claim it’s prophesy from the bible coming true. Perhaps. Who knows?

I tend to think a virile, unchecked, expanding species like our own, hell-bent on consuming and multiplying without any consequence is bound to hit a tipping point of “self-fulfilling” prophesy. When is the wake-up call, that we can, and will use things up? I think it was years ago.

People are still sleeping.

Imogen Heap - "Earth"

Baby, behave, we'll make it work [x8]
Are you with me? [x3]

You're not golden

And I'm getting tired
Act like you own the place
When really you've only just arrived

I caught first glimmers

In hides and skins
Look who's all grown up
Black swanning about the solar winds

You're gonna lose it all

And find yourself on your knees
So, get a grip and you might
Flow, reverse the great, slow bleed

I've tried patience, but

You always want a war
This house won't tolerate any more
Stop this right away

Put that down and clean this mess up

End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

The cold shoulder

Folded arms and looking up
You've never listened
And carry on careless, regardless

This is not a fire drill and

If we hold any hope
It's harmonic connection
And stereo symbiosis

legoland empires
Choking out mine now
You're everywhere, everywhere
Multiplying around me, child

A strain on my heart

This rock can't tolerate any more
Stop this right away

Put that down and clean this mess up

End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

Baby, behave, we'll make it work [x8]

(Baby, do you love me?)

, oh, oh, oh
, oh, oh, oh
, oh, oh, oh (yeah)
, oh, oh, oh [cont]

You're only what you give back [x5]

Stop this right away

(Baby, behave, we'll make it work) [cont]

Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

Stop this right away

Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

Are you with me? [x3]

You're only what you give back [x5]


(You're not golden

And I'm getting tired
Act like you own the place
When really you've only just arrived)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

How Would a Goat Say Amen?

"To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive".

-- Robert Louis Stevenson

I read this this morning in the subway and it really spoke to me. There are many inspirational quotations in the margins of the pages of The Artist's Way. Others have been really poignant to the recovery process I'm working towards, but this one in particular, speaks to my aching Capricorn soul.

If there is one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that I do not enjoy advice. That's not to say I don't like hearing people's opinion, or that I don't think there's any wisdom to be found in the perspective of another. That would be foolish, and just plain goat-stubborn-stupid.

But, as I've pointed out before. I am a very unusual person. I don't always see why things should work the way people say they should... and therefore, I dig in my little hooves and lower my horns and defiantly bleat a sad little "goaty" tune as I take the difficult path.

Often I feel that people feel the need to solve your problems for you just as readily as they'd like someone to solve their problems for them. And really, I'm sure we all wish at some point in our lives that someone could wave a magic wand, but that's just not how things work.

As well-meaning as people are when they'd like to solve my problems... I quite frequently find myself annoyed at how quickly they're offering-up solutions when they don't even know the scope of how I feel or why. I find my annoyance with people offering advice has altered the way I talk to friends about their problems. I'm far more apt to ask question after question, and very seldom say what I "think" they should do. After-all, in most cases, we all do exactly what we're going to do, or would have done anyway.... ....don't we? Perhaps my thoughts on that are distorted by Capricorn arrogance.

At any rate, I wish sometimes that friends would try to understand my hurt instead of charting their course out of my journey.

Lion told me on Monday, "Oh JohnJo, you take a look around you, you spot the most complicated thing, and head straight for it." And that was pertaining to a sexual escapade I had on Friday night, that I detailed to him, but not to this blog. He's totally correct in the assessment of that circumstance, but let's keep in mind that he, at 25, has more experience sexually than I do at the ripe old age of 37. I'm allowed to experiment and I don't have to answer to anyone as long as I'm not hurting anybody.

And of course, as everything in my life swings back 'round to Scooter, I have overwhelmingly refused to "humbly say Amen" to what other people say about my love for him. I look for ways to justify the way I accept everything about our damaged (and perhaps, damaging) relationship in the name of believing that sometimes you must hold on, and not give up on someone. The difficulty with Scooter, for me, comes with discerning whether or not he wants me to give up on him.

If he did. I would.

And until I eventually detail the Johnny and Scooter saga from start to finish (which I'm working on in my "Yellow" notebook) and everyone knows every reason why I love him, how lovable he is, and the circumstances of every hurt we've caused one another... ...I really don't want any advice... ok? *wink*

I will not say "Amen". Not yet anyhow.

Kate Havnevik - "Kaleidoscope"

You cut me out in little stars
and place me in the sky.
I lose my sense of time

You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go.

'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful

A tingle travels up my spine
a cluster of colours and twine
as we melt into wine

You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go

'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Dances With Trolls

Wow, still in the doldrums.

I've sat with this window open all day thinking I'd write something light-hearted once it hit me, and instead I mixed-it-up with small-minded trolls making hateful comments under a video on YouTube.
The comments have since been disabled, which is a blessing in disguise. I can stop monitoring it and making comments of my own in a futile attempt to dispel homophobia and make the world a better place. *sigh*

My worked-up nerves and frustration are what I get for not adhering to my own boundaries. I try not to read comments under anything on the internet. There, dwell dragons and hateful idiots spewing venom.

So much homophobia springs from religion. That is my number one reason for distrusting religious folk, and for seeking out real answers to counter my childhood Pentecostal indoctrination. The greatest truth or peace I have ever found was in embracing Atheism. Though I must admit, there is additional frustration at this point in believing as I do and hearing people spout religious dogma. It makes blind faith in a deity a lot less tolerable to not believe in god(s).

I highly recommend "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. It changed my life for the better. In terms of my own self-esteem and acceptance of my own homosexuality/releasing the programming... I read that book and a light came on. It made more sense than anything else I'd ever read.

Today I leave you with a quote (by Stephen F Roberts) before the song. And a statement I truly believe by an unknown author.

"I contend we are both atheists, I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours."

...Stephen F Roberts

Morality is doing right, no matter what you are told. Religion is doing what you're told, no matter what is right.

Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people
living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,

It isn't hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Imagine no possessions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
imagine all the people

Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Alien, Angel or Ghost

I'm in a place right now, where I feel nothing good will ever come from my relationship with Scooter. It will always be my effort for his apathy. And yet, I'm not the type of person who gives up on people that I love. I genuinely wish we could have some kind of friendship. I just can't see that far. And being the person I am, it's always an issue of letting go.

"Let go" of those who can't give you what you want. "Let go" of those who don't care for you the way you want or need them to. Where is the balance of accepting people for who or what they are, and what they can provide you ...with valuing yourself and not allowing people to take you for granted or abuse you? How many people simply walk away from everyone the moment something isn't right? And how many people stay long beyond what any sane person would tolerate?

After our "date" on the 24th, I'll let it die. I'll let it fade. I'll speak when spoken to, and leave an open door, but turn off the flashing neon sign. That in itself should satiate my need to "not give up", but no longer chase the affections of someone who just doesn't care whether I'm around.

I "think" that I'm open and giving, and forthright and genuine... and yet... I fear I don't let anyone in. Furthermore, I don't truly believe anyone "wants" in. I am that odd. I am that "unique". I am that egocentric and arrogant to obsess over it too.

I'm an alien, or an angel or a ghost. I am something otherworldly that doesn't belong here. More and more, I believe there is no one for me in this life. This time around the cogs my goal is to achieve happiness in solitude and enjoy the gift of life as an observer. I say this with only a sparing amount of self-pity, and a whole lot of awareness of what I've been through and how I'm treated.

I quite simply, do not fit in. And I'm largely ok with it, if a little lonely for my knowledge of it.

That person in the conversation who's always listening? That's me. If I don't pipe up and offer my thoughts and opinions on things, no one will ask. Of this there is a guarantee. I could wager money on it.

Of course, there's the possibility that I'm merely uninteresting. This makes me hold my tongue on occasion.

I am forever the pursuer, and never the pursued. And yet, when I stop trying, I am still not pursued; I'm merely given to solitude.

For anyone not following this, I assure you, I'm no longer talking about Scooter exclusively. He's just one of the many.


Like I said before... I just haven't spent enough time alone yet. "Do good and good will come to you."
I have friends that love me, even if I still manage to feel alone in their presence. And if my purpose in this life is not to discover how to live happily alone, then I will cross paths with a man who matches my paradigm - or blows it out of the water.

I am certainly a "strong" personality. There must be some guy out there hurtling toward me at the speed of gravity, that I won't have to "try" to love or be loved by.

It's hard to sound convincing saying you "don't want a boyfriend" when you obsess over loneliness that way I do. I don't view "being alone" as a bad thing. It's just a state of things. And I wouldn't have to be alone if I were willing to settle for the efforts of guys who just don't make the full grade and friends who don't give what they get. I swear I'm not sitting here saying "poor me". I'm just wishful. Longing even. It's not easy to be alone. And I know it's not exclusive to me.
How many people throughout history have pondered the same self-consumed things? Tiresome.

When you hear from me tomorrow, I'll be in a better state of mind. I have my dogs for the week while Eak is in Las Vegas for business. I'm really looking forward to having the boys. They'll be good for my soul, if not my social calendar.

*note to self* Just live your life Johnny. Live it for you. Happiness within. Dig it out. There's gold in them there chasms.

Song of the day is Jann Arden's new song from her live album "Spotlight". Sadly the audio clip I've linked to on YouTube is ridiculously sped-up, probably for copyright purposes. The song is still "listenable", but it's the Jann Arden "chipmunks treatment" to be sure.

Jann Arden - "I Can't Make You Stay"

Not going to lie across the subway track,
Not gonna pin you to the floor
Not gonna bind you up or pull you down
So what are you waiting for

After all we’ve been through,
I’m not gonna beg you

So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change, no.. change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.

I’ve given you what’s left of me
Everything I am.
I try to be the ocean you could float on baby
The fuel that made you fast.

If I’m not the dream you dream,
If I don’t make you happy

Just go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up
No matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.

Don’t need to see it in your eyes
To know it won’t be long, it won’t be long
Don’t need to hear your goodbyes
To know you’re already gone

So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way…

My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.

I can’t make you stay.

Oh no, no….

I can’t make you stay.
I can’t make you….

Friday, November 12, 2010

I Dreamt I Dwelt Between Chris Pine's Thighs

Ain't got nothin' much to talk about today. But I suppose that's not much different from any other day.

Right now I'm listening to CBC Radio 2/Pacific online to catch a beautiful Opera piece that I heard on the radio a while ago. I heard it on Tempo, so I'm hoping it will repeat and that miraculously, I'll hear who performed it so I can hunt it down. Fridays are "Music That Rocked Your World" days, and I'm not a huge fan of opera, but it was one of the prettiest things I've ever heard. It will likely be one of those instances where I'll never hear it again. ...Or hear it again months from now and forget that I've heard it before. Hide your own Easter Eggs kids.

The situation with Scooter is somewhat resolved. Though he had me FUMING mad. On my way to volleyball last night I couldn't help but start giggling, at the way he called me up in a huff, saying "What's this bullshit about me being rude and you being mad at me?" Because I know he was concerned, and yet trying to put up some bravado. In spite of his nonchalance, I could tell he was concerned, because he verified with me, not once, but twice that we were still on for our "date" (of sorts) on the 24th. It bothers me that I so readily forgive him. I was ready to throw up my arms and say "you're too much work" yesterday. I was expecting him to call "drama", and rehearsing the retort that if I was too much drama then he should just leave me alone. But of course, I am always more drama than I ever have the opportunity to act out.

I love him so much. I can't help it. I'm pathetic. He calls me up indignant, and still manages to score points for confronting my anger head-on, apologizing and pledging to do better in the future. Whether or not he does, remains to be seen. He may stop texting me altogether. Which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I'm self-campaigning to get over him.

Sexual frustration is my greatest affliction right now. And I'm satiating one craving with another solution: I've eaten half a large dark chocolate bar. 72% Cacao. Not dark enough, but satisfactory. (It was on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart.) And in ode to my cravings, I give you pictures of Chris Pine. Oh the things I would do. Yes, the new Captain Kirk does it for me in ways I cannot describe. And probably because he reminds me of Scooter. Yes. Scooter is this good looking. If a little chubbier in recent times.

Oh!!! They're playing the opera piece again!!! It's so gorgeous. I wish I could share it. I know she spoke about it before it started to play and I completely missed who it's by - AGAIN.
*time passes*
Eureka!! I did a little hunting and discovered what it is: "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" Act 2 of Bohemian Girl, as performed by Elina Garanca. You cannot imagine how pleased I am to find this.

I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.

But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.

I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
That knights upon bended knee
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,

They pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.

But I also dreamt which charmed me most
That you loved me still the same
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

O Canada Tree, O Canada Tree

I am pooooooped. So frickin' exhausted it's not even funny.

Peachy called me up yesterday and we decided to hang out last night. He and his boyfriend "McMac" are good company and we had a nice time just hangin' out doing a whole lotta nothing at Peachy's place. He has a really nice apartment, and kindred that he is, he's a music fanatic, so we always have plenty to listen to or talk about. About a month ago, Peachy bought a new turntable to allow him to actually enjoy his rather sizable record collection. There's something organic and fun about listening to actual LP's, and examining the album art and enjoying an entirely different sound quality. My favourite selection of the night was INXS "Kick". Though I did enjoy being introduced to the music of Morrisey. I've never really explored his stuff. It seems wrist-slittingly honest and raw. I'm not sure how much of it would be good for my outlook on life lately. But I did like it.

Staying entirely too late for a work night is my specialty. Last night was no exception. I left at 11:45 and got home at 12:30. I then turned on my computer so I could leave Skype running for Lion to wake me at 6am like we planned. My computer was misbehaving, so I contacted the tech support that I pay for and asked them to take a look at my computer via remote. After much process and puttering around, I got to bed around 2 and awoke to the "beep beep booping" of Skype, and a smiling, mid-day-hyper Lion at 6:30.

He filled me in on some drama involving his mother's employees, and showed me some things he bought on a recent shopping trip. 2 beautiful jackets, some nice gloves and some cute character-emblazoned boot-slippers (just for women) that he scored in his size. He was giddy about the boot-slippers, and how nice and warm they were, and he started my day with joy.

Coincidentally enough, I was treated to some of his singing, and in classic Lion form... it was him proudly singing "O Canada" the tune of "O Christmas Tree". It's always the first melody that comes to mind for him. Our founding fathers would laugh, and hug him for the light in his eyes and how much he wants to come back.

He's so easy to talk to.

I'm running on a mere 4-plus hours of sleep though. And I'm emotional and on-edge because I confronted Scooter this morning via text. Stuff I feel distraught and hopeless about. We're always a stone's throw from good bye it would seem. It's a stupid issue really. He sucks about text messages and I told him how it made me feel last week, and he was up to the same bullshit last night. So today I told him he's rude, and that I'm mad at him. No word from him yet. If I'm right, he'll use it as an excuse to stay away. Part of me expects him to. Part of me wants him to. Just to call it over, y'know? It is getting late in our game for me to not speak my mind about his behaviour. If he is a lesson in letting go, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head very soon. I will be hurt, and sad, yet again... but I know this time will be easier to just walk away and say I tried. Not everyone is meant to remain in your life. He's always had a question mark.

Lion... is a different story. He'll be around with an exclamation point. Even if it's from the other side of the world for the rest of our lives.

Take solace Johnny. Take solace. You will never be important to everyone you show kindness to. It's just not possible. And the hurting will end. Like everything else.

Click on this one and dance! It's impossible to be still when this song's playing.

Janelle Monae - Tightrope

Another day
I take your pain away

Some people talk about ya
Like they know all about ya
When you get down they doubt ya
And when you dip it on the scene
Yeah they talkin' bout it
Cause they can't dip on the scene
Whatcha talk about it
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
When you get elevated,
They love it or they hate it
You dance up on them haters
Keep getting funky on the scene
While they jumpin' round ya
They trying to take all of your dreams
But you can't allow it

Cause baby whether you're high or low
Whether you're high or low
You gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
T-t-t-tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)

Baby, baby, baby

Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
You got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now let me see you do the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it

See I'm not walkin' on it
Or tryin' to run around it
This ain't no acrobatics
You either follow or you lead, yeah
I'm talkin' bout you,
I'll keep on blaming the machine, yeah
I'm talkin' bout it,
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
I can't complain about it
I gotta keep my balance
And just keep dancin on it
We gettin funky on the scene
And you know about it,
Like a star on the screen
Watch me tip all on it

Then baby whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Ooh, you gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Yeah, tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)

Baby, baby, baby

Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby let me see you tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it

Big Boi
You gotta keep your balance
Or you fall into the gap
It's a challenge but I manage
Cause I'm cautious with the strap
Doing damage to your canvas that a doctor cannot patch
See why you don't want no friction
Like the back of a matchbook
That I pass as I will forward you
And your MacBook
Clothes shows will shut you down
Before we go-go backwards
Act up, and whether we high or low
We gonna get back up
Like the Dow Jones and NASDAQ
Sorta like a thong in a ass crack,
Come on

I tip on alligators and little rattle snakers
But I'm another flavor
Something like a terminator
Ain't no equivocating
I fight for what I believe
Why you talkin' bout it
S-s-she's talkin' bout it
Some callin' me a sinner
Some callin' me a winner
I'm callin' you to dinner
And you know exactly what I mean,
Yeah I'm talkin' bout you
You can rock or you can leave
Watch me tip without you

N-N-Now whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
I'm gonna tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
(Tip, tip on it)

Baby, baby
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
High or low
(High or low)
I got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now baby tip on the tightrope

You can't get too high
(You can't get too high)
I said you can't get too low
(We can't get too low)
Cause you get too high
(You can't get too high)
No you'll surely be low
(No, you'll surely be low)
1, 2, 3, Ho!

Yeah, yeah
Now shut up, yeah
Yeah, now put some voodoo on it
Ladies and gentlemen the funkiest horn section in Metropolis
Yeah, oh
We call that Classy Brass!


Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
As I play the ukulele
If I play my ukulele
Just like a little lady

(Happy birthday fades to end)

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Be Here Now

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned "Dr Truth" in this particular blog. I think I've written about him elsewhere, but at any rate, he's my therapist. I meet with him every 2 weeks or so, and I've been seeing him for about 3 years or more now.

Only in recent months have I felt like I'm actually exploring useful territory with him. For the longest time I thought he was a pretty cold fish. Not very emotional and certainly not as empathetic as I'd like, but he chose his career path for some reason, and because I can't afford to choose my own therapist, he'll do.
But as I said, in recent months, I've really felt like I've had nothing to lose and things to gain from just pouring my heart out to him. Why not? He gets paid to listen to me, and really, no one else in my life hears the things he hears, because I'm a ghost. Meaning, people don't know nearly as much as they think they do, and I feel quite invisible most of the time.

Today I was talking to him about how different I feel I am. And how lonely I am. And how much I miss being touched and held and hugged.

He told me perhaps it's time to start dating.

It's the first time he's ever suggested it.

Most of the time over the past few years, he's been on the side of me taking time for myself and working on my issues and removing the complications - and remaining single. Lo and behold, all it took was 4-plus months of keeping to myself for him to change his tune. And his say-so wouldn't really deter me from dating if I wanted to, so I'm kind of inclined to not let it be an encouragement to begin again at this point when I really don't think I've spent enough time alone.

How do I know?

I figure it'll be time when I don't mind being alone anymore. That is not now. 'Cause truthfully, I don't want to be alone.

I miss Lion. I know now, he's not the one for me, but he's the closest I've ever come to being happy with a romance. Had Scooter not been ever-present in my mind while Lion was in my life, I might be writing this blog from Madrid. But things are as they are, and I still need to get over Scooter, and if Lion were the love of my life things would have turned out differently.

He was a sweet, sweet, picture-perfect romance to remember when I'm withered and old.

The affections and attentions of a 24 year old Spanish boy were mine for a time.

*sigh* I'll be Skyping with Lion tomorrow morning at 6am. It'll be noon in Madrid. We still talk a lot. I miss him. He's always going to have a place in my heart. I love to hear his voice.

I miss him singing to me off-key. I remember some humid days laying on his bed in his little apartment with him on top of me singing and speaking Spanish lyrics in my ear while he played me songs he loved.

Lion is a terrible singer. He knows it too. But he knows all the words, and he always has a song in his heart, so it makes his singing a very joyous and enjoyable thing. He doesn't really sing to me over Skype.

I love to watch him. I miss hearing him speak Spanish and watching his lips move unintelligibly to the beautiful sounds that came from his mouth.

Anyhow... enough reminiscing for today. At least thinking about Lion is more fun than recounting my visit with Dr Truth.

Song of the day, a song I've taken some solace in. It's gorgeous.

Be Here Now - Ray LaMontagne

Don't let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don't try
Don't let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there's a strength that lies

Don't let your soul get lonely child
It's only time, it will go by
Don't look for love in faces, places
It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

Don't lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don't put your trust in walls
'Cause walls will only crush you when they fall

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now