The Craigslist!

We are amidst in a fury of notwithstanding, theological assumptions. Although we are now clearing our way free of any sort of Christianity imposed by centuries of oppression, we still abide by the laws given to us. My take on organized religion in as few sentences as possible is: whatever floats your boat, man.

I signed up to the craigslist the other day. I will give you my ad:

Looking for activity buddies for squash, tennis, biking, etc. Interested in platonic relationships, though would prefer to explore the possibility of more. Seeking masculine, attractive guys around my age (from 25-40 no exceptions unless you're fucking hot). Please send me a face picture if interested.

The only reply I get is from my ex. I haven’t heard from this jerk in almost a year, and lo and behold: he is the sole responder. First, he sends a picture of himself in a ball cap, green sweater, supporting a beard and a smile I know all too well; there is a cat in his arms which I cannot identify. He writes, "I'm the one with the hat". Nice, I remember that humor, and frankly, I don't care much for it.

He interested in getting to know me, and he readily supplies his stats, including his size down below. I mean, come on people, if you read my ad at all, do you think that’s the sort of information I was looking for?

Regardless, he looks older, and his picture isn’t that attractive. I’m glad I can at least get that sort of enjoyment out of seeing him trying to cruise me online. You can’t avoid the pigs in this sub-culture. Even when I make a wholesome ad, and state my intentions about wanting sincere relationships that doesn’t necessarily have to be about sex, I still get these assholes.

I e-mail him back (he knows my address) and I say “I know who you are, faggot!” Serves him right really. I’m not a bitter person, I am more pissed off because I can’t escape this sub-culture, and find something quasi-normal in this day and age. Than again, I’m still looking in the wrong places. Would someone mind telling me the right places to look?

I’m going to remove my ad from the craigslist. I think being a social butterfly and a sexual hermit for the rest of my life won’t necessarily be a bad thing. I can concentrate on yoga, spiritual enlightenment, and physical fitness. Already I see tremendous gains, and my outlook, and authority on life has picked up their place. Next on the list of things to do, could very well be owning a business. I can see myself owning a high-end fashion or furniture store, and ‘working in the trenches’. I can team up with my subordinates and really make sales, and feel like I’m contributing.

I would be good at the business and marketing side of things. It’s the uncertainty and risk that I have an issue with. There are many people in my life, who can pick up on new ventures without batting an eye – perhaps entertaining a discussion over gelato one day, and the next taking action. I haven’t quite mastered that yet, but it certainly seems amazing. Would my friends stomachs be as queasy as my own?

I’m imagining myself in Armani suits and a very expensive, shiny Rolex; with teeth brilliant white; and a smile that says accomplishment. I am strolling down the halls of my business having the most wonderful conversations with my customers. They are laughing, and polished, and brilliant. At the same time, my fellow employees probably think I’m a fake, and the customers themselves can see right through me. Those things aren’t important right now, because I’m on a new business high. It won’t taper off, not this time, and I will forever love the place I’m in – it’s my sanctuary and something I love discussing over 5 star dinners with my posh friends.

That is the world that most people fit me into. They say, “That’s where you belong, Charlie; you’d love it, don’t say otherwise, we know better." In a way I agree, I mean I’d love it as much as anything else. I got the same excitement working as a fisherman for 10 years, with different constraints of course; or my bout as a tour guide for two years was real and meaningful…I don’t think I should be stuck into the upper echelon of society because I sometimes come across as a prissy, spoiled entrepreneur that bases his entire existence on excelling.

My parents were upper class, white trash, if that makes any sense. I have my roots, man. Growing up in poor town Newfoundland will always keep me grounded. I went from a have not province to the one the most have provinces in Canada. I like the finer things, but at the same time would love to get dirty and drink beers with my buds back on the rock. It’s no different.

Men's Underwear

If I were a woman, I’d wear men’s underwear just because a) its unconventional and b) I hate girly fabrics; its equivalent to running fingernails across a chalkboard, I can't even think about it.

What a fine day to believe! Our epic week of sunny days is officially tapering off, and I can feel the overcast and the foreboding rain coming. Its Victoria after all, it rains. I have to spray my shoes again, just to make sure they don’t get soggy in the rain. I’m not normally anal about these things, but I’m starting to think about appearances.

For instance, right now I have a week old beard – I’m just shaving the neck area – I’m wearing a sour green t-shirt; somewhat tight jeans; a white pair of shoes with black and grey patches; and a multi-colored sweater (brown, grey, navy blue). That’s my style, it’s a combination of 60’s meets the upcoming, and nobody can own it only myself.

My legs and arms are sore today. I ran too long the day before, and than proceeded to work out with heavier weights. I’m not sure why I’m doing it – it’s not to pick up muscular guys who are normally older and on HIV medications (FYI – that’s why they have muscles: the steroids). I think it’s because I don’t want to be a hunched over old man that can barely walk when I’m eighty. I want to keep this going for as long as possible, and my fear of getting older and shoved into a home at an early age will dissipate.

Initially I worked out because I started raving and my ex boyfriend and I split. I started to hit all the seedy, drugged up, gay venues known as ‘the circuit party scene’. I wanted to objectify and be objectified, and invest nothing but the moment into my encounters. A broken heart does that to you.

Jesus, I must admit, I have had some hot encounters there, and I’m glad I did experience the drugs, and the music, and the venues…but it’s so frigging hollow and empty. New Years was my last time. I was sardined into ‘the world’; the building code wasn’t taken into consideration and I was man-handled by gross men. I did have some hot encounters that night, and I did get a lot of attention, but when I left that morning, I felt ill about the whole experience. My resolution was to avoid these unsavory places for now on. I don’t want to be one of those guys.

Where is Mr. Right? All the Mr. Rights I know right now are in relationships. They all seem happy, well-adjusted, and grounded. That’s what I want, all those things from someone else…but to me, it seems as if those qualities can only be found in men who are already loved by someone else. I am seeking the right types of men; it’s just that, I am not sure if he is out there. OMG I’m seeking: Tres Scary.

The majority of men I have met have had some emotional difficulties, like bouts of unhappiness, or negativity problems. My friend Catherine refers to the club we frequent as the “club of lost toys.” I try to pick up for my sub-culture, and I try to look at the positive, and do see a lot of the good. But, it’s convincing both my gay and st8 friends to look at the positive…well, that’s the difficult part.

Are we lost? I know far more unhappily married, straight women and men who have made utter messes of their lives. So, it's not the gay culture that's lost or in need of repair, it's the majority of society. I'm just thinking outside of my friends narrow views. I mean, I’m not stuck with a child, I have freedom to do whatever I want, I have a great job, I look and feel good…

Jesus, I think I’m adjusted! I just hope that we stop stereotyping, and generalizing this existence we share with so many different people: that’s the one take away I’d like people to pick up in the journey of becoming self-aware and comfortable. That shit is annoying.

Hiking Mt Finalyson

People always say you have to love yourself before you can let anyone else in. Well, I love myself, that's not an issue; it's the rest of the world I have a problem with.

I had a date with a 22 year old med school student this weekend. He incisively wanted me to take the lead, which results in a contemptible relationship on my part. I don’t want a one-sided relationship where I feel as if I am responsible for someone else’s entertainment. I have a great disdain for the younger generation seeking out older acquaintances’ to lead them. I can barely lead myself. The conversation was slow for the most part, and I can say that he is a fairly quiet and introspective guy. He was nothing but smiley - with his bright, white teeth and blue eyes - and very hard to figure out.

We hiked up Mt. Finlayson. It was fun, and I think the highlight of the trip was watching my young friend be completely out of his element. He did well though, and only stopped a handful of times for a breather. The day was brilliant, the sun was out, and the stones and foliage scattered around the trail was being bleached by the brightness of the sky.

The mountain is one of the friendliest places I visit. People coming up and down the cliff always say hi, we are all sharing the same struggle – a 1380 foot climb upward. I always love finishing up, and starting the hike back down, only to see very sweaty, out of breath newcomers who obviously haven’t did this hike in a long time. It’s hilarious, and I relish in their pain.

Once a young couple stopped me on my way down, asking me how much further they had to go. I knew that they weren’t even close, maybe just 40 percent up, and I lied to them saying, “Oh, it’s not much further now, you’re almost there!” I only did it to motivate them. When you see a goal insight the struggle isn’t nearly as cumbersome.

My younger companion showed up in jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater. I’m not sure if he knew that he would be sweating a great deal, and he may have taken for granted the amount of work this novice will have to experience. The hike up is fine, but the last 35 percent is rocky, and you have to bare hand it at times.

He had a slight fear of heights, so certain areas made his clutch on to the stony walkways to ensure he wouldn’t topple down the cliff. I kept giggling to myself, seeing him on all fours; lurching up the path as if this foreign world did support the everyday, trendy gay male. The image of him in heels came to mind and I quietly snickered. He stepped on the stone and rocky areas as if it were a new environment all together. The boy was an alien to this world, and it was all so interesting and delicate. I really did enjoy seeing him experience this for the first time.

I guess that could have been my first time also. My friend Darrin from work took me up. Every time we planned a hike, he would always pull out a big joint and smoke up – we than continued on to a geocache (look it up www.geocaching.com). Geocaching is a very popular way to hike nowadays. We used GPS positioning, and the goal is to find a cache (a Tupperware container that contained a log book and cool items). It was a great way for two tech nerds to spend the day and have a rewarding prize at the end of a drug induced journey.

I loved those weekends! I remember being on of the rocky ledges, stoned out of my mind, and looking down. I was convinced that I couldn’t do it, and wanted to turn around. My friend Darrin though, managed to talk me up. I shouldn’t be so hard on the dude, my first climb up that mountain made me cringe in certain areas, but I was sure footed!!!

He’s a good guy but a little bland on the uptake, but overall he will make someone happy. After this expedition, I know I am not the guy for him. I think I need someone a little more abrasive, and bold like myself. I want someone who will challenge me and not just go with the flow, just because his older companion knows better. Nor do I want to be reminded that I have five years on him.

It was fun. Do I think it's going somewhere? No. I mean, I find him attractive, nice body and such; he's so nice though. I could never go for the nice guys...

It's not going to stop

I have to question my mortality on a constant basis. I wouldn't say that I am a hypochondriac, nor would I say that I'm overly sensitive; there are far too many coincidences and illnesses that occur for me not to think this way. The downside, or one would say the dark side of being gay, is having an intimate relationship with a virus that is killing millions. Sooner or later, it may get me; in fact, it may already have me, and I just am not aware of it yet. I have written this before, and I will have another indebt conversation about the same subject in the future, and I will pray to God, wish myself the best, over and over again.

I think my biggest fear is getting an illness that I cannot control. I wake up one day, and suddenly I cannot do the everyday things I take for granted such as biking, hiking, and staying very active. It would truly kill me. I am not afraid of dying, but I am fearful of the steps leading up to it. I am 27, and am already staring death in the face for the second time; this time though I can't predict when or why.

I have been sick for about two weeks. It started with a "normal" cold and has worked its way into my system as a stomach bug now. I am extremely fatigued, and it's been grating on me; I just want it to stop. That is the background of my experience right now. My energy is depleted and my mindset is somewhat negative right now. The upside of all of this: I have been talking to a workmate and he just went thought the same thing, claiming that it was his young, toddler daughter that had made him sick. Maybe I have caught this illness from him - it's not entirely out of the question. The illness is taking so long for me to recover from!

It's funny, I have been reading about symptoms on the internet and other people's experiences, and after going through my neurotic week, I have realized I sound a lot like the hypochondriacs that I have been reading about online. I'm a fucking hypochondriac! I think I'm ok, I will survive. The only argument I have as to why it's not the same illness as my friend, is the fact I had an encounter with a couple about two weeks ago, and one of the guys was positive. I think I was fairly safe, but there is always that lingering thought; the what if that will always be in my mind every time I meet someone new who has been around the community.

How do I combat this? Either I accept it, or I realize that sooner or later it will happen: it is evitable. Or I steer clear of sexual relationships for the rest of my life, until the other party is rigorisly tested, and a firm background check has been established. This clinical approach may seem a bit anal, but we are dealing with life, which is only handled out once in it's entirety, if we are lucky.

There is no romance anymore. The days of chivalry have ended. We are now left with a culture that is infested with chemicals, disease, and problems that we can quite nail down because there are too many fucked up alterations and at the same time it's beautiful and inviting, and I cherish each day. Welcome to my paradox.

Keep the walls from falling down

It's OK
Love is only meant for some
I'm the rock
The shoulder you can cry on

I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down

I'll play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
I'll designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down

You can be pretty and tragic
I'll try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
I'll try to keep the walls from falling down

I can't reach the pain you feel
But I'll try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
I'll try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down

Where is your saint?
To let you know you're not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down

I don't drink beer because

I met a guy online a few days ago from Vancouver. He seemed like a nice dude; told me he had a PhD in Literature, and he looked ok on his dark photograph he passed along. Last night he arrived in Victoria and decided to phone me. Right away I could tell he was impatient.

Immediately he asked "So do you want to meet at my hotel?” I replied no, let's met somewhere in public and take it from there. "How about Swan's?” I asked. He let out a sigh of disgust and replied "No, we are not doing that". Right away I knew this wasn't going anywhere.

About a half an hour later we meet on the corner of Johnson and Broad. This guy...ok let me regain my composure. When he first sees me, he lights up and his eyes immediately scan me head to toe, taking a great deal of time in the crotch area. You could at least be a bit more subtle about it man!

This guy was dressed in black 80's track pants, a red hoodie; he was wearing glasses, a ball cap, and had a large chip out of his front tooth. He looked older than his picture and far less attractive. I hate it when guys aren't real about themselves. Sometimes guys give out pictures of themselves that are outdated; or where they no longer have a great body, or hair; or they are 20 years older -- do you think I'm not going to hold that against you? It just totally pisses me off! I knew I wasted my time but hoped to see some intelligence behind this otherwise hideous mask.

You would think you would at least make an effort to do yourself up when meeting someone. Are you that egotistical that you think people will jump in the sack with just anyone? I ask him why he made a piffy sigh when I asked him to go to Swan's. He tells me "I'm a vegetarian, and I don't drink beer"... Wait a minute! I what does being a vegetarian have to do with not drinking beer? I guess he just wanted to let me know he's a vegan at no costs. I don't think it's impressive, I mean great you don't like meat, but I don't equate that with being better than everyone else.

He's still impatient and hungry, and wants to grab some non-meat food. So I walk him to rebar, but at this point I'm so turned off, I tell him "Dude, the sex-thing isn't going to happen". I think he's a bit taken aback, and immediate his demeanor changes and he says "See ya". LOL. I think people are fucking assholes at times. As I walk away I glance over my shoulder and he's still turned towards me staring as I walk away.

The rest of my night was quite fun. I met a cool guy who's in med school and we exchanged numbers. He seems like a great guy, even though most of the night I was hitting on his friend who turned out to be straight. We will see, but I want to date; I think he's onboard with that idea. Something normal...

Coffee?

I have been talking to this extremely sexy dude online for the past week or so. He is latin, about six foot or so, incredibly built, and well you get the idea. He gave me his phone number and asked me to call him when I got over to Vancouver. I called him on Saturday and had a brief conversation...

He asks me, "So, do you want to meet for sex? Coffee and Sex? Or just coffee?". I think no matter how attractive I find someone, there is a mental element that comes into play. He was into himself, totally self-absorbed, impatient, and treated this as nothing but a casual hook up. I decided I wanted neither the coffee or the sex. I turned out this hot man, because when push comes to shove, I think I need respect and I need something more than a hot body.

My weekend was fun. I helped Rico move on Friday. I think it took us a few hours and two bottles of wine, but in the end; it was completed and we were able to relax the for the remainder of the weekend. The highlights were the BED party I went to, I met two nice dudes who decided to drag me home with them. It was suprisingly fun. And, I played about 3 hours of Tennis with Rico on both Sunday and Monday. I was so sore. I guess I'm using muscles that normally do not get strained...my wrists in particular were very painful.

High Fidelity

I had a great dinner last night with my co-workers. The restaurant was very tacky and had a beach house feel to it, with netting and other trinkets scattered throughout. We had a table for eleven people; the majority were married couples, along with Andrew and myself. There was a lot of talk about weddings, children, and couple stories; to be honest I was a bit turned off from some of the conversations.

The food was amazing. I had a seafood medley of halibut, salmon, clams, and shrimp, along with vegetables. We were sitting at a long table and our window looked into the ocean. Sometimes throughout the night I would keep staring out there, wishing that I was out in a kayaking and not having to deal with the straight world around me. I feel rather disconnected. I feel as if my "culture" doesn't allow me to enjoy the same things. It would be difficult to bring a boyfriend who was monogamous, and who wanted children, and would be perfectly dedicated to myself and our life together. Maybe I'm just jaded or cynical...

The people around me are loving and caring. All ten of them are special in some way or another, and I am glad to know them. If I thought that a small town, depressed, closeted Newfoundlander, would be sitting at a five star restaurant eating a three course meal with significant and accomplished people, well, I guess I would have frowned at the idea. It's so beyond what my previous life was. That life, which I haven't visited in a number of years, is always in the back of my mind. Sometimes, I wonder if I have even imagined it... No, I know it's still there to some degree, and I think coming back to it will be a bit of a culture shock. I'm sure I have changed a lot, but it will not as noticeable as when I am actually back in my hometown.

I planned a trip, you know. I planned it, saved time, and was excited. It never works out, and I wonder if I'm wasting my time visiting a family that has enough problems without me. I feel as if I have pushed my family away from me, and forced myself to forget.

Gone to Earth

Tonight was very interesting. My gym friend Steve called me (also my next door neighbor) and asked me to head over. We went out to the temple along with Mickey and had a few drinks. I find it intriguing to meet some new people, and get their perspectives outside of the bar environment.

It's not so bad. As of four years ago, I would say everyone was cold and clicky, but it's really not the case. We are not different, no better, no worse. We are all thinking, reactive, and philosophical individuals.

I talked to Russ. He was quite drunk but insinuated there are some feelings still between us. I think I disagree, and it's not because I'm writing in this more visible environment. I tried, I learned, and I have realized that he has to loosen up and work on himself before he could accept others. The only thing I want out of it is a friendship...which could take years because our two personality types.

He actually said something that struck a chord though, I am more guarded than himself...I think he is right. I mean, I didn't invite him over, I am anal, I am uptight, and maybe we aren't that much different. Fuck, I'm fucked up like Russ!

I guess I have to invite him over now. I am not sure how, or what I could do, maybe get him to come over, than we go for a walk? This is far too complicated, but maybe this threw him for a loop when we actually dated. Maybe I don't understand myself at all. I realize there are some things I still have to let go of.

I love what I know about passion,
I love what I know about mercy.
I love what I know about patience,
I love what I know about soul.
And I know you.

I tell all my friends that I'm bound for heaven,
and if it ain't so, ya can't blame me for living.
I know what it's like, and it's worth this misfortune
know what it's like on the other side.
At least 20 years, I have loved one thing only.

You are not helpless

Two women were at the coffee store tonight. One was probably 15 or 16 in age; the other I assumed to be the mother, dressed in black and smoking cigarettes as if she were dying. Her son, who didn't fit the genetic pattern I was seeing, stood over them, waiting, slurping on his damn coffee drink. From what I could see, the mother ignored him; her daughter was sat down, and the boy, that blond haired boy who actively slurped with little to no remorse, was left standing.

His blue eyes kept gazing upon the two women, demanding attention, almost needing their attention. His eyes were wide and open, and I would almost describe it as amazement, if I didn't already deduce he was very unintelligent.

The questions started. "Mom, how much money do you have?” The intensity of his eyes is overwhelming. He is leaning on one leg, and swaying, trying to play up his cuteness, and I am sure he knows how.

The boy is about eight years old, just standing there, and completely obvious to the fact his mother doesn’t have time for him. I regard him much like his mother does: as an inconvenience. I wonder why people produce. What satisfaction could I possible get from a snot nosed, spoiled, and completely confused child? I’d want to play chess with my child, read books together, enjoy documentaries; I have a feeling that it would never work that way.

She barely acknowledges him, and in her stupor replies "I don't have any money left". She is going through her purse searching for her next nicotine fix. Her daughter adds bluntly "You got that right". It reminds me of a made for TV movie, where the beaten down house wife has left her husband and is trying to make it on her own.

I couldn't take anymore. I had to leave and go for a swim, in the murky cool water at the Y. I think they have a senior’s workout class right before lane swimming, and I am sure they all pee in this pool. I am mortified every time a little bit of water gets into my mouth. I can imagine all these old seniors taking turns emptying their bladders into the pool. I know if I were over 50 and had a tired body, I certainly wouldn't go to the washroom to whiz.

The life girl at the pool was flirting with me. I mean, I am not egotistical, nor to I think people find me attractive, but she kept smiling at me. After I swam for sometime she approaches me and asks what my tattoo meant. I have three mandarin symbols on my arm; I tell her phoenix, and this lead into an array of other topics including spirituality, her brother, and other overly excessive things. I just wanted to get away. I pop on my goggles as we talk to hint that I'm ready to swim again, but she dismisses the hint.

I leave. On the way out, she is by the door to say goodbye. I mumble the same and take off. Now, the showers at the Y are quite scary at times. There are men who shower for long periods of time; some I know are gay, others I can only assume are also. I am pretty sure that this guy in the shower was doing just that! I just want to clean myself, but for some reason he thinks I'm interested in more. I blatently make avoidance the top priority, not only refusing to acknowledge his staring, but I have also turned my body so that he cannot see me front on.

I think the world is making me uncomfortable. Everywhere I go there are violations. It would be nice to be able to just say 'fuck off'. I think I’m easy going, but there are so many triggers and situations that I seem to run into, when all I want is to exist in my own space. I think living in a city will never give you that privacy unless you either shelter yourself, or find places where people tend not to congregate.

Sometimes the days are wonderful

Sometimes I wonder how long I could sit down and pay attention to nothing. I am completely absolved to the things around me, relentlessly stopping my mind, and shunning my vision. To mediate, and find nothingness; the quiet we all seek and yearn for, lost and found throughout the ages.

What brought this on you ask? I walked home Friday morning, after heading out with friends for St. Patrick’s Day. I walked for about an hour, five o'clock in the morning, from the Gorge to my home off of Fort Street.

The sky was starting to shift from night to day along the way. The birds have started to sing, and I hear tunes around me. They communicate so freely without regard of the predators that are ready to swoop down on them. The city protects them; they are less concerned about being hunted. All their instincts have adapted, and now they are more resourceful and cunning. Slowly, the one bird chirping turns into two, than more. They are basking in the morning silence, where traffic and people haven't had the chance to destroy their songs.

I see the homeless people - who are deemed invisible for some - waking, already conscious, and taking in their cold suffering. I can do nothing but harden my soul this early in the morning, the realizations and concrete visual stimuli of their lives was far too much.

One lady in particular is wrapped in sweaters and a make shift home on one of the corners along the way. She is serene and almost dead-like, wrapped in an orange sleeping bag that is completely engulfing her body. She is wrapped so tightly that I even wonder if air could get through that barrier. I pass by smelling the stench of urine, and the tangles of debris littered throughout the streets. I wonder what happened to her. How did she come to live such a life? Most happen upon this life because of their upbringings. It's too sad to even think of.

As I approach the Mac's store which is open all night long on Douglas, I see the normal group of homeless. One girl, barely out of her teens is fully clad like a street hooker. She is surrounded by a group of guys - some native, some white, all working the streets looking for their next victim. Another kid, on an old BMX bike, meant for a child, is short in stature and has the face of a defeated life. She can do nothing but gawk at me, and wonder the same things in return. The sight of seeing a man, dressed in green, with his girlfriend’s highly effeminate green scarf, wrapped tightly around him...who is this man walking so early in the morning? I am one of them; I know I am someone who they can’t relate to; nothing to them but spare change and fear.

I get the normal offers to buy marijuana and other fixes. Politely declining I continue my trek. The birds are chirping in full force, and as I look to the skies to see them, I notice the sun starting to make its progress. There is a limited array of clouds, and they are sparsely seeded in this vast puzzle. The purplish and lightly colored horizon is pure bliss; my soul can only be moved when I look upon it.

It all seems so different when you're walking utterly alone in silence; no traffic, no noise. My eyes scan the sky looking for something familiar; grasping to find this one thing that I know is out there somewhere, to find a familiar pattern in this maze of complexity. This in itself had far more meaningful that anything else I encounter on this day.

My pace has picked up. It's as if my legs are on fire, I can feel no pain, the cold has stricken me, and I can only wonder how the homeless feel. Ahead, another street kid walking with a gait, and dressed in white; pant and coat together white. His face his pocked and he is no doubt a Meth user even though if you asked him he would tell me he has skin problems. There are headphones on his head, over-sized and blaring with some foreign music. He spots me.

"Dude, wanna rob a liquor store with me?” and I am shocked. Am I to be confused with one of them? Is my attire "homeless drag", am I not accomplishing the remedial task of dressing and conforming to this society I live in? Am I failing? "No thanks man, take care of yourself ok", eying him, searching for something more.

I want to glimpse into their souls. It will be beautiful in its own right, but sad. I can't fix things that are broken, and to try is only to remind myself more and more of their suffering. And I am reminded of the things that have condemned them to this life. I am reminded of the ones I have known on a personal level. The ones who tell me how rough it was, how much they suffered, yet don't we all? What is the breaking point really that would send you spiraling towards hell - and I can assure you, this is a worldly hell.

I too have had my problems, and I know many others, yet we have dealt with it differently. I push the other way, I push to be able to live and survive, and shed my insecurities and hurts. I pushed. I only wish they could push as hard but it's too late.

The final hill was great. I climbed it, knowing full well, the top of the hill waits. My friends stunning home is to the left of me, it's an old three story Victorian home, and his lights are on. I'm assuming he went home and passed out without regard to turning off his lights.

To be wasteful is bliss, and really in our self-centered worlds - one person doesn't make a difference. One person can turn on every light in his home, start up the stove, play the radio, watch television at the same time, and turn up the heat; only to shrug it off and not acknowledge the environmental damage he is doing. Hell in a hand basket my friends. We're not changing. I thought we were... I thought that we were on the brink of an irreversible global warming, but I don't see anyone doing anything about it.

I will be home, warm again; surrounded by the things I know. I have a home. I have something to come home to, and feel at peace. They don't! They probably never will, and all we can do is turn a blind eye, and hope we never make a formidable connection to them. Never to make a human connection for fear of approaching emotions like guilt, sorrow, and loss. I even fear it, but I'm not that cold.

Make the effort to say hello. Listen to their delusional rants. Make the effort to at least care enough to treat them like the children of God. For they are no different that you and I, just a little more lost, a little more defeated. Need I remind you that you are defeat also; you have just handled it better. I always make an effort to bless them and wish them a good life, or hand out extra change or food, and the response I get is wonderful. They are happy to be acknowledged; they are almost tearful with happiness, and so am I.

When I get home, I do nothing but forget about it all, until it's time to bed, and the thoughts stagger into my mind. The events of the week come back to be, and I adjust, and examine, and am happy doing so. The days are never bad, just insightful; wonderfully spiritual sometimes.

Sometimes the days are wonderful.

Mine alone

I live on Vancouver Island, in Victoria, BC, alone. I have a silver laced bicycle, a cool looking lamp, and a number of insignificant materialistic items. It's my home now, and I cannot go back to my roots, I cannot put myself in that situation again.

Art, it's everywhere; something I cannot avoid. I hang the pieces throughout my small apartment. Three are grand in size and from an Artist in Victoria, three - the same applies, and the rest a just from random strolls and wanderings. Sometimes, I think it's the only think that keeps me sane when I sit at home relaxing.

It's unusual to come home at night; briefly and subconsciously searching for a place to lose everything on me, including clothes and such, and even my mind at times. Turning on one dim light, and sinking into restfulness after a weekend out. My mind sometimes races, I have troubles just sitting down and being. It's something I cannot muster the strength to master. The blood - my upbringing more importantly - ensured that idle hands accomplish nothing. It's not that I have issues relaxing, it's that Newfoundlander's always have to be doing something! Ask around, because it's every Newfie I ever met, and then some.

The people I meet are interesting. I enjoying going out on my own, being the lone ranger, and just encountering the people around me. There is so much uniqueness, many people who can offer so many different viewpoints and lives experienced. Sometimes, I get jealous, thinking 'why can't I settle into some sort of permanent group of friends?' - some people are just destined to do things differently, I'm guessing.

It feels like there have been safer days. I don't fall, and when I do, it's an epic event. I have fallen before, and am glad I don't think I will be falling anytime soon. The trick is to be weary, careful, and watch and do only when you're sure...only when you know they can't touch you in some meaningful way that changes everything you are. The everything I am, is completed right now, but it's not ready to invite someone in to turn my life upside down. Why do I always sink into this relentless pattern of thought? Is it telling me something? Is this the right path?

Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god, I praise each day splintered down, splintered down and wrapped in time like a husk, a husk of many colors spreading, at dawn fast over the mountains split.

I wake in a god. I wake in arms holding my quilt, holding me as best they can inside my quilt.

Someone is kissing me - already. I wake, I cry "Oh," I rise from the pillow. Why should I open my eyes?

I open my eyes. The god lifts from the water. His head fills the bay. He is Puget Sound, the Pacific; his breasts rises from pastures; his fingers are firs; islands slide wet down his shoulders. Islands slip blue from his shoulders and
glide over the water, the empty lighted water like a stage.

Today's god rises, his long eyes flecked in clouds. He flings his
arms, spreading colors; he arches, cupping sky in his belly; he vaults, vaulting and spread, holding all and spread on me like skin.

- Annie Dillard

God sometimes you just don't come through

I had to switch mice today. My right hand is numb and throbbing with pain...hmmm, it's either carpal tunnel syndrome which I have had in the past, or it's just poor ergonomics on my part. Luckily, I'm freak enough to be able to switch hands when using the mouse. It's a seamless transition and it's as if I haven't had to comprise my motor skills in anyway. Wow, I really do sound like a lame computer nerd.

Well, it's St. Patrick’s Day today. Traditionally, it is a very important day in Newfoundland. The streets, clubs and such would be packed with Irish/Scottish Mutts from all over the province, along with the wannabe's...hehe; you guys know who you are. Personally, I can stake a claim to my heritage since I am a black Irish English mix with a nice coat and fair complexion. The black Irish tend to have cool blue eyes, along with dark features and an identifiable look. Our eyes are usually squinted, and we are shorter in stature. Regardless, I came from an extremely good looking family on my mother’s side...I sometimes wonder why I wasn't as blessed. I mean, I do well, but if you could see some of my mother’s sisters - they are models minus the height issues.

This reminds me, America’s next top model this season is rocking. I know, I know, I have shed the evils of television, but I do download this program and watch it. I mean what more do you want out of a television show? There is Tyra Banks, the undisputed queen entrepreneurial conquests along with 13 women who will suck up and expand her ago into another realm of consciousness altogether.

Sometimes I wonder if this is it, you know, is this all I am getting out of life. I want to just pick up one day – not the near future – and just disappear completely. Travel the world and meet interesting people who may leave a lasting impact on me. I want to taste different foods and people. Photograph the images I see in National Geographic magazines and GQ. I want more. There is this desire, this fire that is so strong at times; it dampens everything else around me. I think one day it will happen. Either that, or I have to do sometime completely unconventional of a Capricorn like re-education. I know the main person holding me back right now is me. Nothing more, there are no excuses.

Looks like my other wrist is also going numb…

I want it now

it's bugging me, grating me
and twisting me around
yeah i'm endlessly caving in
and turning inside out

'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and your soul
and i'm breaking out
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control

its holding me, morphing me
and forcing me to strive
to be endlessly cold within
and dreaming i'm alive

'cause i want it now
i want it now
give me your heart and your soul
i'm not breaking down
i'm breaking out
last chance to lose control

and i want you now
i want you now
i'll feel my heart implode
i'm breaking out
escaping now
feeling my faith erode

All the trees will clap their hands

If I am alive this time next year,
will I have arrived in time to share?
And mine is about as good this far.
And I'm still applied to what you are.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you.

And I heard from the trees a great parade.
And I heard from the hills a band was made.
And will I be invited to the sound?
And will I be a part of what you've made?
And I am throwing all my thoughts away.
And I'm destroying every bet I've made.
And I am joining all my thoughts to you.
And I'm preparing every part for you

Guilt...

How do we live with our guilt? Our knowing that we have did something wrong. Our knowing that if we sin, we cannot just shred the mistake. It has to hold us, consume us until we resolve it in someway. I am guilty about my last entry. I am guilty of contributing to a sin, that when I think about it, is wrong. I am guilty of lust. I have allowed another person to commit an act that is considered a sin. Now, it's eating me up inside.

Healthy, useful guilt is the feeling we have when we do something we rationally judge to be morally wrong or unfair. Just having the thought or urge to do something bad can cause guilt. That's good if it keeps us from doing something inconsiderate. Healthy guilt is our reasonable, fair conscience. But there is unhealthy guilt too. That is when we establish unreasonable standards for ourselves, i.e. we expect perfection, we want to accomplish the impossible, we feel responsible for misfortunes in other people's lives, we believe we are "good" only if we faithfully follow all the rules and do more than our duty. The unhealthy guilt does not allow for mistakes; we expect too much from ourselves and others.

Both guilt and social pressure are vitally important: they are of help in controlling "the beast within"--our greed, anger, and lust. They also help us fulfill our responsibilities--our work, studies, care and concern for others, taxes, show of love, etc. Our guilty conscience is vital in helping us be good. On the negative side, a guilty conscience can change our social lives, dampen our enjoyment of life, cause fears and worries, and create a heavy load to carry emotionally.

These people...these people, like the man two nights ago, has little to no remorse. We talked the next night, and he said he was no longer guilty, and at the same time was searching for another. I'm thinking this is wrong! It scares me to think that so many people live this double life. One of my problems right now, is that experiences like this are jading me. I know, I put myself in these sitations...but the world around me, or the world I am getting to know through others, is a vial, greedy, and lustful one. I think I need better avenues! One more reason why I should completely seperate myself from this scene. It's dark and distrubing...

It's alright bi

I miss the days when you were in my world
It seems like it was a lifetime ago
We said our goodbye with tears,
and promised to not let the years get away
but that's something you just have to say

In my pain...
is where I tattooed your name
was it a dream
was it a dream

I wonder what you must think about me.

Fuck. I hate this. I hate writing about happiness when there is a catch. I met a guy last night who is from Montreal and is here on business for a night. He's married to a woman, has a child, and is bisexual and more interested in men. When I met him, right away there was an instant attraction, and I would say he is one of the most handsome men I have had the chance to be with. Yes, you heard it right, I was with him...I couldn't resist...and my reasoning being, if it wasn't me he would have found someone else.

I did contribute to his cheating...sigh. I feel bad about it, but he was such a great guy and we really hit it off. We were comfortable with each other, that's got to mean something. He told me that he couldn't see himself ever falling for a guy though, and that friendship and whatever else is all he wants. Maybe he is in denial? I don't know, but I understand why he would have to tell himself that. He did admit he is far more attracted to men...so I think he is just copping out, he could definately fall for a guy. I slept over!

That was my night. I have to head to work now. We are having so many issues right now, and I have to hold down the fort. It's fun being busy, but at the same time there is a lot of stress with little to no recognition...I can't even remember the last time raise was mentioned. This leads me to believe I'm not doing a good enough job...I have no idea how I am perceived anymore.

UPDATE: Work has calmed down. The fires are put out.

Your hair is coxcomb red, your eyes are viper black

We are adrift in this microcosm, serving in and out of the realities that serve as grounds to keep us centered. Our universe is our daily activities, our passions...what we do defines us and the world we hold sacred. We are lucky to be Canadian. Lucky to have decent wages, a government - although corrupt - is a government that pushes for social standards. There are large portions of the world that don't have it as easy. I question why I am placed in white suburban Canada at times, when there is so much more.

Outside, it's raining. I wouldn't describe it as being a small amount of rain, we are experiencing a downpour. After a long and wet winter, I just want it to be over. I want to feel the warm of the day, to be able to take a walk without worrying if the weather pattern will change in an instant. I miss short sleeve shirts, casual shorts, coffees outside with friends. When will it change?

My friend is headed to Hawaii in a few weeks. Bastard! I'm saving up enough vacation time to do something decent; although inevitably I think Newfoundland will pull be back. I mean, yeah I miss my fucked up family, and it's been a couple of years; unfortunately, I don't think they will ever visit me, so it's time to clean up my stubborn act and admit defeat. I have been playing the 'who visits who game', and to be honest, I don't think I would ever see my family again unless I make an effort to go back - all expenses on me of course, that way everyone wins except for me. The more I think about it, the more I don't want to do it. I could be basking in Spain, surrounded by local hotties, and drinking whatever it is they drink for a lower cost…the plane ticket alone would cover a trip to Europe including hotel accommodations and meals. Hmmm….maybe I'll use that as a bargaining device.

I'm wondering. what would you do if you were in my situation? I thought about also getting a compromise, for instance, have my rich father fork over half the cost of the ticket, that way I have extra cash to spend in Newfoundland, and would be able to shop and hit the night scene in St. John's - note I will be going to St. Johns, I don't care how much my family complains.

To be or not to be...

Existence.

Plain, boring, utterances, nuisances, predictability, zeal, accomplishment, to strive for nothing and everything...

I am grateful to exist, you know. There is something to be said about someone who can take a serious look at their life and be satisfied; to know that the decisions made, we're in fact the right ones. I'm not saying my life is perfect, but given the environment I grew up in, the choices I've made, the genetics I have had to deal with, it's pretty damned good.

I have a date on Friday. I haven't met this guy yet but we have been talking online, I have seen pictures of him, and have seen him on his cam, and heard his voice over the phone. He seems nice. I mean he seems like someone I would be attracted too and enjoy spending time with. I don't know. I'm such a critical person; both critical of myself and of the people I meet. I fear that because I have shaved my head, he may not find me as attractive. Or, I may not lead into a facainating conversation on our date and it could become dull fast. I may not tell enough jokes, or smile. I hardly ever get nervous, nor do I have issues with comfort zones, but blind dates always make me nervous.

I have a presentation tomorrow, highlighting how to present. I’m going to be judged and critiqued and I have to find a way to make it creative. First, I have to find out what I’m presenting about…it can be anything I think, and not necessarily related to technological knowledge. The presentation itself will not make me nervous, it will be the content, and finding out how to really interest people and use the skills I have learnt previous.

Winter

You must learn to stand up for yourself, because I can't always be around.

I'm reading an interesting book about the approaching Dark Age. She's an American author and I find it quite interesting. To think, all of our society could very well approach one again. We have only attested to one Dark Age but there have been numerous ones. Societies have completely disappeared, cultures have dissolved into nothing - and we have no information whatsoever about them.

A Dark Age is a culture's dead end. We in North America and Western Europe, enjoying the benefits of the culture conventionally known as the West, customarily think of a Dark Age as happening once, long ago, following the collapse of the Western Roman Empire. But in North American we live in a graveyard of lost aboriginal cultures, many of which were decisively finished off by mass amnesia in which even the memory of what was lost was also lost. Throughout the world Dark Ages have scrawled finis to successions of cultures receding far into the past. Whatever happened to the culture whose people produced the splendid Lascaux cave paintings some seventeen thousand years ago, in what is now southwestern France? Or the culture of builders of ambitious stone and wood hedges in Western Europe before the Celts arrived with their Iron Age technology and intricately knotted art?

Our Dark Age is approaching some say. There is a tremdendous amount of environmental damage; we have religious wars, fossil fuel issues...not to mention the inevidible collapse of the global economy due to outsourcing, ineptness, and failure to create a working market. I have accepted the defeat of North America and am ready to move on. Already I see parts of Canada changing. We have Newfoundland - my home - changing and already losing its culture due to a 10 year moratorium, where people have moved on to fishing crab, shrimp and other markets as opposed to cod. Already these markets are becoming extinct. Some Newfoundlander's have become complacent, hoping that oil revenues will eventually trickle down, others leave for better lives; the long and short of it is, we will lose our culture. We will lose the ability to fish, to produce salt cod, and will lose our history...

In a couple of decades the way our culture is, will no longer be; changes to the systematic approaches to business, energy management, global policies, and even government will attribute to this…all I can do is sit back and enjoy the ride. My prediction is that North America will be under attack due to the forces that are building up in this day and age. We are not approaching change readily; we are more or less adopting it without planning or analyzing the future. Already the spiral is speeding up, but how can we stop it?

It's a little deep I know, but why not. I can't keep reading fantasy novels, I have to branch out. Before this particular book, I read a David Sedaris novel called Naked. My friend Jacob gave me an autographed copy...I guess he had two. It was very funny and entertaining, and it's a satirical look at his life growing up in the US as both a homosexual and a Greek. Some of it actually reminds me of my childhood.

I'm running out of photos, I will have to get my camera out and charge up the battery, or take a trip...Jesus I would like to take a trip.

It just goes to show

I have to say one thing, everyone is fucked. I had an awesome Saturday night with my friends Jill, Jason, and Jacob...it has been great. I am loaded though and have to hit the hay. Hopefully I can elaborate on why we are all going to hell in a hand basket tomorrow.
UPDATED:

Monday...

I took a bic razor to my head on Friday. I'm now completely bald and I like it. Initially, I did this as a self-destructive hobby, to no longer make myself as attractive to both opposite and same-sex people. I don't think it worked that well. People still like me, and I received a lot of positive feedback... self-destruction is your internal ability to damage the spiritual essense.

I think you have to shave your head a least once in a lifetime. It's to ensure that if worse comes to worse, you could support a bald head and still hold on to you're general attraction. I am no longer fearful of going bald, it isn't that bad...people didn't turn away in disgust or cover their childrens eyes.

My Saturday night consisted of Matini's with my friend Jill and her group of friends. We went to Milestones where she works and I met the crew of about 20 or so people. My gawd, they have a lot of workers at that restaurant. My friend Jason also works at Milestones along with Jody who is his best friend. He's a good guy, it took me a few months to warm up to him, but am glad I can now consider him a friend. I'm always so weird when I first meet men, sleep with them, than try to salvage some sort of relationship after the fact. But we have hung out a few times, and it's going well. Sometimes I still see the attraction, but try to forget about it, I mean he's not really my type...

Yesterday, waking up hung over, I went for a ride on bike. There is a hot guy smiling at me at the gym...damn him, than another at the coffee store. Damn them all. It started raining, and I was completely cold and soaked by the time I got home. I'm sick of the cold rain. Bring on the summer.