Friday, March 30, 2007

Everything's coming up ME!

I've been on a glorious run of "luck" ... everything just keeps coming up aces. There were a few hiccups here and there (see: gnome), but besides that March has been spectacular!

Maybe it's because Spring is in the air, the sun has been shining, it's progressively getting warmer ... who knows? What I do know is that these past few weeks have been exciting, fun and a reaffirmation of everything wonderful. So far I've been able to go to two hockey games for free, I've avoided some potentially sticky situations (even though getting into them was fun), and I've had some not so sticky situations which were just exciting and definitely put a smile on my face. Babies have been born, parties have been had, and lots of great conversations with a varied mix of old and new friends. All in all ... not one thing that could be seen as a negative, and that's something worth celebrating.

I guess the key thing now would be to see how I can extend "this" ... whatever this is ... there has to be a way, and I'm going to find it!

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

See Ya Later ...

See ya later ... that's right Harold has officially left the building, or in this case my pancreas.

Yup not a twitch or pang of pain ... it's all gone. I guess he just couldn't handle the low fat, no alcohol diet that I was feeding him. So I'm assuming he eventually just packed his bags and hit the road. I for one am grateful that the little bastard has finally left ... but as I look back on this little experience, I think it's important to take note of a few key lessons.

1. Too much of anything is never a good thing, no matter how much fun it could be at the time, eventually there are consequences. In this case a gnome set up shop in my innards.
2. Have to be more careful in the future, and just keep more of a mental note on intake, etc. Also ... I am reminded again of how I should trust my instincts. This is the third or fourth time in the past few months where I did not listen, and it always ended with disaster of some kind.
3. Gnomes are terrible little creatures ...

Anyways ... I'm just happy that Harold has left, and here's to hoping that he never returns.

In other news ... how crazy is it to think that there was a gnome living in my body? I really need to lay off ... whatever it is I've been eating, smoking or drinking ... :)

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Harold, you little sh1t.



Well … we’ve moved into Day 4 (or is it Day 5) and Harold seems content to be inhabiting my insides … although he is more like a f*cking little squatter than a taxpaying resident. I’m just hoping that he is bored and eventually he will leave for greener pastures … I’m hoping … hoping … hope.

I’m not desperate yet so I haven’t resorted to the begging and pleading, but the little bastard does have me a little worried. The last thing I need would be for him to take a permanent residence on Pancreas Lane. I will say that he seems to be content sitting on his ass at the moment not really doing all that much, but like anything unwelcome or out of place, you just know/feel that it’s there.

Anyways … it’s Day 4 … I’m hoping a couple of more scalding baths of hot chicken soup and other non fatty items will turn Harold off enough that he’ll decide to pack his bags and take off.

… and this time I’m not inviting him over for cocktails.

(the image isn't Harold in his current state, but it is what I imagine he is doing in there)

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Me and My Gnome


Well it's day two (technically day 3) of me and my unwelcomed guest ... the gnome. He is still there gnawing away and while still incredibly painful, he has somewhat relented in his attack. I've been busy drowning him in low fat chicken soup, and everything else that could be considered low fat ... translation: anything incredibly bland and boring to eat. Of course we all know what he wants and that's more alcohol and fatty foods but the joke is on you Harold (yes I've named him) ... none of that will be coming down my throat anytime soon ... hmmm that last sentence was ... nevermind.

I know I probably shouldn't kid around about this, but I learnt that worrying and stressing about things will really get me nowhere. In fact it'll probably just lead to more stress and worry ... so instead I've decided to look at it from a more comical point of view. As a matter of fact I've attached a picture of what I imagine the little bastard looks like (look at him, all smug sitting on his keg like he is the king of my pancreas).

So as day 2 progresses we'll see how much tea, water, and soup this guy can take before he completely gives up on his assault ... thank someone there's no demerol around this time, although it does make movies that much more enjoyable.

Monday, March 19, 2007

pushing my luck ...


I knew this was going to happen ... I could see it coming from a mile away, and for whatever reason I chose to ignore all the signs. I guess I was all too happy to just go with the flow and all the activities that accompanied it.

Don't get me wrong the past few days have been incredibly exciting. Finishing my exams, going to the hockey game, keggers, Norwegian girls, St. Patty's day ... but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that all this fun would come at a price.

Now I sit here on a Monday afternoon, suffering through a pain that feels like a gnome gnawing away at my pancreas ... it's a punishing reminder that there are limits. Unfortunately I believe I've gone right past them and into ... this ... I curse myself for my stupidity ... God I hate this f*cking gnome.

... but what a weekend.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Reviewing past thoughts

I was reading through some of my past entries last night ... I didn't realize it, but I have approximately 70 posts since the fall of 2005 ... it doesn't seem like much, then again I wouldn't think I had that much to say. I've never categorized all of them, but it makes me wonder how many were posted out of boredom ... out of anger ... out of whatever ...

It was just interesting to see where I had gone in the past year and a half as I explored everything from humor, to deep thoughts, to social commentary, and heart felt emotions.

Anyways here are some posts that I particularly enjoyed, mainly because they reminded me of why I wrote them, the situation and context they were written in, or the emotions I was experiencing at the tme ... of course sometimes it's just because I thought they were funny ... and slightly disturbing ...

Sh*t Kicking Retards
Victims of Circumstance
Words
Masturbating the Mind
I Can Change The World
What Does Sorry Really Mean
Humbled
Escape
And Then Boredom Hits
Understanding Being Misunderstood
Being Me

Enjoy!

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Melon - Collie

I think the weather plays horrible tricks on your mind and your body.

Staring out the window at the bright sun, and the blue sky you can't help but wish you were outside immersing yourself in spring ... but upon venturing out and exposing yourself to the elements, you realize that the sun isn't so warm, and the sky might actually be grey. You can't help but wish for the cold to stop, and for winter to end. You fantasize about endless summers and wonder why it couldn't encompass all 4 seasons. Above all else, you curse at yourself for not wearing a hat ...

The cold is bitter, it's damp and invasive. It's a cold that goes to the very core of your bones so as to provide a deep shiver that runs from the inside out.

It's not just your bones either ... not just your body, but it feels like your mind is slowing down. It's almost as though the blood circulates at just a fraction of its normal speed. Leaving you with a case of the "dumbs", unsure of what you feel or think as you try to interpret all the information coming through your senses.

OR ... maybe that's just me ... maybe I just feel this way because I'm tired and I crave the opportunity to do ... nothing.

Is doing nothing in fact doing something?

I wish spring was here.

Vertigo

I was reading mimiinnewyork.blogspot.com, and I came across this entry titled "Vertigo" ... anyways I just thought it was an interesting read, especially since I feel like I've met someone like that in my life time ... it's not disheartening, but it makes you rethink what you thought, and see things from a different perspective ... or maybe I'm just overthinking things.

Vertigo
You know when you're right at the top, looking over, and you have that overwhelming desire to throw yourself off?

"Vertigo." he said. It's a fear of what you might do even when the rational mind registers the drop, acknowledges the inevitable mess that will ensue and still buzzes that furtive little message through the neurons, jump, jump.

I think I lack vertigo, which is how I've survived for so damned long. There was never any fear for the wellbeing of this body. What I was carrying around I couldn't give a shit about. So long as it was fed, drugged up, fucked and drunk, my body did me fine. It carried me where I wanted to go, and hell, if it hit the bottom hard, so be it. Smacked up, stung, soiled - I was loving every fucked-up minute of an existence I couldn't recall because the brain cells had been damned near destroyed by living too hard. I was falling, falling, falling, but couldn't remember the jump, and the bottom seemed to be evasive. So I tried a little harder.

My eyes were rolling and I could feel it along with the pang of a jaw strung taut, frayed elastic ready to pop with the gurning, and I couldn’t remember where I’d been, but I knew where I was, and when he opened the door he knew where I’d been because my eyes told him. So without a word he led me in, lay me down and there were no kisses, not that I remember, not that I could feel, but what I could feel was the drug shuddering through my body and my body following instinct not instruction. Instinct dictated what I did, because my head was incapable of it. I remember it didn’t hurt but from somewhere I felt like it should, and all the while I stared at the sordid red glow from the cigarette which dangled loosely from thick lips, burning embers and flecks of ash drifting into a sepia night, and from the light cast I could see that my body still looked young even as it felt so old, cold and trembling from the inevitable comedown. This time I think it did hurt, but by that time I was out, gone, on the move again, and the streets were quiet because it was 7am and France had not yet woken up.

He called me later when I was sitting on the bow of the boat, looking out across the harbour and the crew had gone to The Blue Lady. It was a pink sun, always a pink sun, and the Mistral was starting to blow, because summer was nearly over and it was time to go.

"You never said goodbye," he said

"No, I didn't." and I hung up, called the next one. "I'll be in Palma in two days. See you there."

Kept jumping right into the next addled day sodden with alcohol and the echoing, stark numbness of a beer-sodden soul still reeling from a chemical high and the smack of the night. I forget every man, but I remember every morning, my eyes wide and vacant, unable to speak. I'd sit at Bar Toni, down espresso and nod to the French guy with the curly hair and the dirty, long, yellow fingernails who sold me shit I'd sell to tourists for twice the price. I left my men like I left my boats: abruptly, before I got kicked off for turning up for work at 6am with no sleep and a jaw locked tight, clenched shut - whether through drugs or something else, I couldn't tell. Still can't.

In Palma he came with an unspectacular yelp like a small dog while his wife roamed the streets for him, calling a cellphone which beeped uselessly beneath the bed next to the suitcase and the flip-flops.

"I'd leave her for you, you know," he sighed, and he would, I knew it. He'd jump, knowing that the fall would be swift and clean and the result a carnival of crushed and splintered bones, intestines oozing like reptiles across a baked sidewalk. Whereas I'd just walk away.

When I got to Gibraltar he'd left a message for me. I ignored it. And then we sailed to the Canary Islands - which island I forget - and it rained, and we sat in a bar sipping Bailey's staring at the masts of sailboats kissing dirty grey clouds. He called me again.

"I want to leave her. I've decided. I'll meet you in St Maarten."

But I hung up, and when the Captain looked over to ask me what was wrong he caught my eye and smiled, and he knew, having mastered the exquisite art of falling, falling, falling for all eternity, without fear or retribution or spilt blood - ours, at least. I time them to perfection, my leaps over that cliff, waiting until the bow of the next boat noses close to mine and I can spring over in a perfect arc, clearing salt water licking at my heels, fall to safety, fall on my feet, hit the deck cleanly, half wishing I could feel the same sting that everyone else gets from the impact of earth punching body.

I'm always on my way out, ready to jump. Bag slung over shoulder, moving on, ticket in hand, a flight, a boat, a train. It's a solo occupation. On reflection maybe I never mastered the vertigo. I just lived with it until it became part of my soul, and every night was just jumping again and again, senseless, exalted, perfect. I don't know if I can give it up.

"I don't know if I can give it up," I told him at 7am after a night of hard drinking, and ash from my cigarette spilled like wine onto my lap. "I think that even though I want a normal life and clean living and everything to be nice and what it's never been, I know that at some point I'll get to that cliff, and I'll want to jump." It felt weird saying it out loud. But he was the one who told me about vertigo. And he said he mastered it by jumping, so that's something, at least. That's something.

"It's OK," he replied, and I could tell it really was. "'Cause if you get to the top, and you want to jump, I'll jump with you."

I wanted to say that wasn't the point, but then it occurred to me that maybe it was, and it would be OK after all. I thought some more. All I said in the end was "Thanks." But I think he understood.

Friday, March 02, 2007

My Tattoo

Well I finally did it ... It only took 9 years, and countless wasted hours and designs, but I finally found the right one, the right artist, and the right time.

The original design was drawn in 2003 during a particulary tough time in my life. Coincidentally ... I found it in my sketch book while I was going through a terrible rough patch at the end of last year. It was just comforting to know that I'd been there before ... and that YES things do get better.

So ... I couldn't think of a better piece of art to have forever etched or "inked" into my skin. It reminds me of where I've been and where I hope to go. It brings me back to a rough time in my life, while reminding me that things do get better. Things move forward, they improve, and even though sometimes it may feel as the world is conspiring against you, hope and the promise of better tomorrows always win out.

(note: the first chance I get, I'll scan and upload the original sketch so you can see the transformation from drawing to tattoo)

Thursday, March 01, 2007

so immature ...

It's Thursday.

I have tomorrow off so today is essentially Friday. My mind is tired, and I know it's silly ... but I just find this picture too funny, and I thought it might make someone else laugh.

By the way isn't today a marvelous day? Nothing like fat kids in t-shirts blatantly whoring themselves out to remind you of how much fun a Thursday can be!