Montreal

Slowly, slowly, I am drifting.

I am back from Montreal and my mindset is different.

It took me a week to write this entry, only because I have been recuperating and bringing my mind back to a more positive place.

I had a great time, but most of it was in a haze of drugs, without food for periods of 12 hours, without sleep at one point for about 48 hours, and myself, partaking in superficial relationships that came and went as the days passed by. I am without remorse.

The gay scene in Montreal, especially with the Out Games and Pride taking place was something I haven’t witnessed before. There were streets upon streets blocked off; events all day long, people from around the world, athletes, mind you, participating. Masculinity, real men, everywhere.

The parties were fine. I saw some of the most prominent DJ’s in the world, rubbed elbows with the elite in our community, and met some accomplished people. At the end of the trip, I was so polluted by my surroundings; nothing was real anymore. I was devoid of emotion, four pounds lighter, stripped of morals, muscle, body fat, and was just a shell of a man. I was a shell that once was in love with the world and myself.

Now, I have witnessed debauchery at its worst. I don’t want to go too much into it, I’d rather talk about the city and how beautiful it is.

The churches in Montreal are amazing. Montreal itself is 95 percent catholic and the entire religious base is utilities these old, architecturally stunning cathedrals. I went to the church of Notre-Dame one day with my friend Clay. Walking in to Notre-Dame was like walking into some sort of illustration. There were stunning blues, reds, elaborate carpets, stained glass, pews and pedestals, it was a dream. I couldn’t imagine how a group of architects and builders could produce something so beautiful.

I knelt at the alter of Notre-Dame and thanked whatever force created this magnificent structure and teared up. Maybe it was the past night without sleep and on E. Maybe it was the fact that I know: this is living.

I then went old Montreal. The streets are filled with cobblestone, the buildings are old; Old Montreal consists of significant period pieces in a city that is fending off change. The streets are lined with tourist shops, old brick walls, fine dining, churches, and to the right a magnificent waterfront filled with activity.

Mont Royal, which is actually a hill in my option, was ok. We hiked it in no time at all and ended up in a circular view point which overlooked most of the city. Some of the banks, apartment buildings, and businesses were house in sky scrapers that towered over the remained of the buildings in the city center.

To be taken out of the gay scene and St. Catherine’s, even if it was for a small period of time, centered me briefly.

The city is beautiful. I just can’t get the images and sounds out of my head. The pounding dancing music, the men who are so stoned they forget who or where they are, and the couples…couples from around the world who should be proud and monogamous, finding their next fix. Everyone had a drug of choice, and because of the number of people, everyone was packed together for each venue.

I did some things I wasn’t proud of. But, at the same time I met some wonderful people and it helped redeem my faith that there are decent people out there. One man in particular, a gay Newfoundlander, who shares my birthday – Christmas Eve. I think I’m going to visit in Toronto during thanksgiving.