The Little People

 

There are times when I really struggle with my book.


Of course it's self indulgent to even say something like this, and it is ASKING for howls of derision from the cynical and the loveless.

But in a way, I have to indulge myself by saying it- because writing is one of the most solitary affairs known to mankind.

There is no one else here to bitch at about it.

& no way to do it in any effective, productive way.

That's just the way it is. 


I tell it...

Then in due course, you read it.


So much stuff, hundreds of pages of it that simply refuses to be readily organised into any kind of sensible order. 

Sometimes I wonder if I am not doing battle with it because that is ALL I have EVER done with it.

With everything.


Am I in love with the struggle?

The never-ending conflict?

Will it NEVER be finished?


All questions I'm sure writers ask of themselves in order to defer the process of actually doing the writing.



But I have my little inspirations to prop me up along the way. 

This was said of my hero, Dr. James Orbinski, of medisin sans frontiers, who worked in many war torn parts of the world. Rwanda, Uganda, etc, of his attempts to write a book about his traumatic experiences…

 

"I think he’s working with dilemmas that are real, I think he’s dealing with contradictions that are very profound, he’s trying to encapsulate some ideas that no one has…

 

& I think he needs to find a synthesis of all these ideas, he needs to find a larger look at them as it were…

By writing…you simplify the complexity of the world around you…it’s just what the exercise is all about, and I think that he’s finding that it’s not easy, because the complexity is almost intractable, it’s almost overwhelming…”

I understand this so well. 

& it gives me some hope, sure. 


But I'll tell you what gives me even more inspiration. 


Me. 

Little me. 

 
 
This is little me.


A question I ask in the book, is...

'would you beat this little boy'??


Would you?

And yet I was beaten.

& I never quite got over it- which is why I am writing the book.  

It's the only way left I can think of- & I have tried a bunch of stuff-to come to terms with what happened. 


I'll try anything. 

Everything. 

 
Would I beat this little boy?

I would not.



And yet, in a way, I do.

Every day. 

Punishing myself for not being able to write this book quickly and efficiently.


How long have I been working on it now?

TOO long.

I know that.


But beating myself up over it isn't going to help.


I think part of the process is learning to give ourselves permission to tell the story.


I think we all have to. 

The abused and disaffected. 

We have to find a way to tell it that we can take pride in.

That we can be protective of.  


Because believe you me...

there will be assholes and cunts lined up around the block ready to give you shit for even daring to talk about your abuse.


Like it is something they don't want to hear.

& you should keep it to yourself.


FUCK THEM.


If you feel a burning desire to tell your story?

You tell it. 

DO IT.

If not for you...

Then do it for little you. 

If this little boy came to you a story of trauma and torture, would you turn him away?


If you are reading this...

I doubt you would.


Picture yourself as a child...

In fact, grab a photo of little you if you have one, and study it.


Look into the child's eyes. 

Your eyes. 


Those are YOUR eyes, dammit.


If that child has a story he/she wants to tell?

You owe it to that child to do everything in your power to listen.


When I doubt myself...

Doubt the validity of my story...


I look into the child's eyes. 


This is for him. 



We NEED to set the children free...

     

Hot Dinner Time

When the healthy psyche is assailed upon from all sides by the horror, we rail against it. 

(those who give a shit do, anyway. 

I guess those who don't give a shit shop, watch TV, drink themselves to death, etc...)

And because the perpetrators are usually beyond our reach, we, the caring, the feeling, often find ourselves lashing out at those around us- as if it is somehow their fault.

& if they defend themselves, it is not uncommon for us to say things like, 'you don't care', or 'you don't understand'.


When the pain in their eyes tells us...

nothing could be further from the truth.


They clearly love us. 

I remember that look in the eyes of my loved ones...

As I gouged away at them like a demon with diahorrea...

& it's a look that will send me to straight back to hell, from whence I came. 


& of course, this suits those in charge right down to the ground.

We are doing their job for them; destroying each other. 
 

It's a bit like the prevailing ambivalence of the mostly white power structure toward the black on black gang killings in the ghetto. 


& the more you rail- and realise how you are hurting the ones you love- the more desperate and hopeless it all seems. 

So...

If you're lucky enough to have friends- look after them. 

Take it from someone who has lost more people who loved me than you've had hot dinners.  


& I suggest you carefully hone in on the REAL enemy...


& pile on. 

Today is a Good Day to Let Go.

Today is a good day to let go.

We have it in our thick monkey brains that if we dare loosen our grip- everything will turn to shit.

This is not necessarily the case. 

By letting go...

you might actually be setting something, or someone FREE.

Maybe even YOURSELF.

Letting go may be the most unselfish thing you have ever done.


So...unless you are a rock climber, or a bat or something...

For heaven's sake LET GO.

& see what happens. 


I'll bet it's something better, higher, stronger...


Infinitely more beautiful than you ever imagined.

How Low Can You Go...

I've seen Hell. 

Hell is settling for less than you are worthy of. 

And it's a TERRIBLE place.

If you have woken up in a strange bed, with someone you don't know, or even worse, don't care for...

You know what I'm talking about.


Heaven, on the other hand...

is being delivered so much more than you ever imagined possible.


I've had both. 

And take it from me...

PURGATORY is being so used to HELL...

You just can't handle Heaven. 


& flushing it all down the toilet.


Heaven...


& Hell. 


Pick one...


& START WALKING.


Because Limbo is too low to spend a lifetime... 
 

Quirks

Love and Convenience are not the same thing. 

Convenience stores are convenient, but they are also costly, look awful when you're not drunk anymore, and they are NO place to spend the rest of your life. 

I wouldn't elbow my way into brain surgery; similarly, love is not for those who have no idea of, or interest in, love.


You know who you are...

Nugget.

Things rarely work out exactly the way we would like them to. 

For the most part- for the majority of us- life is a mess.

ESPECIALLY if you're trying to forge your own path. 

(Go and look at a piece of jungle some time to find out why- if you can find some jungle left)

BUT...every once in a while, there is a breakthrough. 

One small thing goes SO RIGHT- it washes clean all the dirt & muck and grime of the crap that went before. 

& they say, from this moment...

you don't look back. 


I know it can get pretty cold and dark in the mine of life- but THAT'S what I'm here for. 

You might be the same...   

Australia's Burning

What the blazes.

I managed to get hold of a few snaps of the bushfires over the Blue Mountains. 
 
I'm not going to throw adjectives around- I think these pics speak for themselves.
 
What I will say, however, is that my heart goes out to those who have lost their homes or loved ones in the blaze.

We also lost a pilot in a crash that occurred whilst he was feverishly trying to control some of this destructive rubbish.

Brave man. 

RIP.

Spare a thought for those suffering down under...

& to those brave souls battling the Hell fire...

may you stay safe and strong until this is all over.  

 

The TRUE enemy...

I'm not a Vegetarian-

apparently I am Pescetarian 'cos I eats me some fish. 

But that's a little close to Episcopalian for my liking. 

Plus...I won't be able to eat fish for much longer due to the radiation, so I will have to change again. 

Curse these goddamned labels!  I just want to be 'John' again!! 


Down with the Label-arians!'

Grumpy Relatives.

If you have negative voices in your head...

chances are, you will never get rid of them. 

I'm sorry about that. 

Sorry to have to tell you that. 

Sometimes we have them for reasons that make them virtually inextinguishable. 

& pathological or not...

whether they are schizophrenia or simply our rogue thoughts run rampant...

I think we're probably stuck with them.


HOWEVER...the good news is, you don't have to listen. 

See...where we fuck ourselves up is we think that this is 'simply the way we are, and we are stuck with it', dark noise and all. 

But the negative energy is a bit like having a grumpy crippled relative in the house.

They won't leave, they won't die...

they just constantly grumble. 

I have noticed that, if I don't want to let that voice darken my mind and send me off into a shitty day, all I have to do is say,

'no thanks'. 


Don't need this noise. 

Then I walk out of that dark room this grumpy bum lives in, walk into a beautiful brightly lit room of the house with sun streaming in through the bay windows, nice music playing, incense burning,

and I remind myself...'today is going to be a lovely day full of wonderful things'. 

Remember the saying- 'thoughts are things'? 

You can have any thing your heart desires. 

& that includes happiness.


Thanks again for taking an interest.  Your thoughts are things too...and they are good things.

Peace.      

Thank you...AGAIN!!!

Thank you for taking an interest, my friends. 

Thank you for reading my work, and being so supportive of me during what is, actually, a kind of selfish process. 

I know it is a selfish process. 

I have enough empathy to KNOW this is the case.

I know I haven't had a lot of time for you- you know who you are. 

I am thinking of you. 

& it does not escape me, the way you have been checking on me, week after week. 

You give, unselfishly; I find it breathtaking- I guess because I am unaccustomed to it.

ACTUALLY- this is old language.

I am NOT unaccustomed to it- that would be negating your continued presence. 

Perhaps I am growing accustomed. 

Learning to trust when people are kind to me.   

I am also learning to detach myself from people who are not.

What they have to say about me has NO validity.

Any more than what my father said did.

I am NOT unworthy.

I know I am a much better person than I was,

and am improving a little each & every day.

I guess the evidence of that is the fact that I can now see I am getting better at pushing away the animosity,

and embracing the kindness; 

instead of the other way around. 

I intend for this new pattern of behaviour to continue.

No longer will I allow myself to be mired in negativity.

No longer will I allow vicious untrustworthy people into my life.

I will be the change I want to see.

& the book I am finishing will help. 

Myself and maybe even others like me.


& I MEAN to finish this book...

even if it kills me.

& in so doing, put the past to rest forever. 

I might take a little time to retreat & put this thing to bed once and for all, but I won't be far away. 

I also have that health issue I mentioned which must be looked at. 

You'll be in my thoughts. 

I had two fortunes in the cookies at my favourite restaurant the other night; 'your good luck is in effect as of now',

and 'what you have been planning will succeed'. 

You know me...I am just dumb enough, childish enough, hopeful enough to believe these silly little pieces of paper. 

This final battle could well be the breakthrough I have been waiting for.  Could happen! 

In the meantime, I wish you bon chance, and once again...offer my humble THANKS for your love, and your forbearance. 

When one is in this space- on the edge of a major breakthrough, one feels both excitement and trepidation. 

You are never quite sure if you are going to skyrocket to the stars, or die horribly. 

I hope it is the former-

so I can thank you one by one, and we can all celebrate. 

Celebrate...the blessing that is our common, shared humanity. 

Peace.  

Soul Wisper

That moment when you are making love to a woman, and she looks directly into your eyes with complete love and trust...

that gently piercing look...the one that seems to enter the windows of your mind like a will o' the wisp,

eases right down into your heart...

and starts caressing your soul...

that's the real deal. 

& It doesn't happen every day. 


You have that...you have it all, my friend.

Audacity Dweller

There is nothing like a wildly audacious move to shake things up when you feel you are stagnating. 

Truly, there is simply something inexplicable inherent in the energy that goes into such a move-

a melange of faith, fear, courage, excitement...

a declaration of being receptive to unlimited possibility-

that just has some kind of mysterious knock-on effect on the rest of the planet & it's people. 


You want opportunity to knock?

Take a wild, foolish daredevil STAB at something.


I know it's scary...

but it works.


The universe doesn't really know what else to do with such a person except to throw things at them.


Give it a go.
 



(nb: to the naysayers...you do NOT need money to be audacious.  All you need is AUDACITY.)

Abandon All Abandon.

Our spiritual evolution is unfolding on schedule. 

Don't be alarmed if you think you are going mad; outrage and hysteria are a part of the process. 

There was NEVER a way to Heaven...

without first going through Hell...



Never.

Going All the Way...

I don't want you to think too badly of me- but my experience with hallucinogenics is very limited. 

Never really my thing. 

I always stuck to those fine, safe, legal, government approved drugs. 

But Huxley and McKenna have really got my transcendental tastebuds tingling. 

I'd like to explore this world a little more. 

There are some jagged edges in my personality which- if my research is correct- might well be smoothed over with some plant medicine. 

Drug hysteria is BAD politics. 

Give me a naturally occurring plant over a factory built synthetic tablet any day.


As McKenna said,

'a hit of acid has been known to turn pricks into halfway decent people'.

Mmmm. 

Halfway?


Why not go all the way?? 

The Dust Settled...

I don't pay a great deal of heed to statistics when it comes to my blog, mainly because if I have one or two readers, I'm a happy guy. 

I don't force the thing down people's throats, I don't use a blog manager to promote the work, and I have had a readership of maybe 20-30 for a couple of years. 

Today...I looked at the stats and the readership has jumped to 120. 

I assumed it was a mistake, but the readers have doubled and even tripled in some cases. 

I have been working so hard on my writing...finishing my book, trying everything I can think of to outsmart the drill instructor and father figure in my head who wants me to fail...so I can put a few things together without it being capsized by my own criticism...

& today?  I'm going to allow myself to be a little grateful. 

& to thank...whomsoever...for believing either in me- or my work.

Or maybe both. 

Thank you.  You keep me alive. 

Maybe...I'll die another day instead. 

That many people give a damn about my work?  That's enough to put my father in his place. 

Given that he's dead and burned? 

That's dust in the wind, my friend. 

Colour of Faith...

I have been reviewing some of my written material lately; & looking back over my work the last few years...

It looks all over the place. 

Frankly?  It couldn't be more transparent. 

It appears to be the thoughts of a person who wants to give up on human beings...but cannot.  No wonder my writing looks like that of a person with a mood disorder. 

Even though for the sake of our sanity, health and well being, we probably should- even though every fibre of our being screams at us to leave the wretched humans to their own devices to die in screaming pots of shit- many of us cannot do it. 

I cannot do it. 

I can NEVER do it.... 

So my work seems to move from one pole to the other, clearly motivated by episodes of disappointment, & moments of hope.

I'm also working on finishing my book at the moment...& looking back over that material...it's the same thing. 

It looks like I have some sort of mental disorder;

but really...the only disorder I have is that I want to disconnect myself from humanity and the despicable things done by them, and live in the wild... 

But I simply cannot give up. 

As foolish as it might seem- I really cannot break the connection I have with my species- however tenuous. 

For I will then be breaking away from myself. 

We are connected; and although it drives me batty, all most humans are doing is denying this connection we have. 

And in that ignorance- they do cruel, selfish and inhumane things.

To drift away from EVERYONE will not help. 

It won't help me, nor anyone else. 

& the only way I can process this conflict is by writing it. 

So I will probably continue until I die...writing like I have some kind of mental disorder. 

& if refusing to give up is the name of that disorder? 

Then colour me pathological.  

Polar Disorder.

I was originally going to see the Polar Bears while I was in Canada,

'before they are all gone', I said.  

I was just that casual about it when I told people. 


I had it in my head that I wanted to see them before they were gone, much in the same way John Dunbar said he wanted to see the 'frontier before it was all gone' in 'Dances With Wolves'.

In that grand, literary, ever so heroic manly way.



But in the end...I just couldn't bring myself to motor on up to Churchill, and with a bunch of other rubber necks gloat over and take happy snaps of a dying species. 


I just...couldn't do it.


All of a sudden...as the days approached when I had to book passage from Winnipeg and secure my accommodation...

I was overcome with grief at the prospect of this making this morbid tourist trek a reality.


'Before they die'???  

I don't want to see them before they die; 


I don't want them to die.


I'm a child again. 

A child.

I don't want them to die...


But they will. 

The adult knows this.

It won't be long before they are a distant memory.  

A dream.


I wonder...do androids dream of electric bears??


I wish I could cheer up.

I'm not much fun to be around lately.

I'd like to be happier; & some days I can pretend to be. 


But it isn't long before the reality of the damage we have done to the planet and the creatures on it-

creeps in like a sneak thief on a cold night. 

It's hard as hell to crack hardy when I think about losing these beautiful creatures;

I can't just shrug it off, crack open a bottle of bubbly and dance the Merengue.  


It just seems insane.


So I have resolved now NOT to see these bears before they are gone. 

I want to hold off. 

I want to see them either when they have been SAVED...


Or at the very least...


Die before they are all gone.


I'm not sure I can bear a life without them.  

Smoke Get's In Your Eyes...

...

I should stress none of this behaviour I referred to in 'Default Setting' is our fault. 

We are a species under extreme pressure. 

You can feel it.  I think we all do. 

This kind of selfish human behaviour means we are getting down to the wire, and the consequences of this pressure upon us will manifest in our conduct like night will follow day. 


Hard times breeds hard people.

People with mental illnesses living homeless on the street?

Are you kidding me?

That's punishment for being sick.

& it's silly as hell.


The world has gone mad. 

And if you think I'm going to join the New Agers in their 'Circus of Denial'...

Sit cross legged in a circle and pray the hate away...

Forget about it. 


I can't see it.


So...you see...

Human unreliability is not a jolly hobby;

it's tactical necessity. 


Anthropology 101. 

Survival.

Scarcity.


Co-operation is becoming- and has been for some time- a thing of the past.  

In this world of profit, consumerism and every man for himself...

Hmm.


I would like to think love will prevail...

but my money is on the utter savagery.


I can see glimmers of it in my eyes,

You can read it like a large-print book.

 A kind of desperation.


as I struggle to find some...
 
Sense of community. 
 
Belonging.
 
We have made it a little hard to find.


In a bar in downtown Montreal the other night...I was chatting with someone in a setting which is about as close as most city people come to some kind of communion.

We both agreed...most, if not all human beings are looking for...


Connection.

And we are not finding it.


And this is making them angry.

The way things are is making ME angry.

I think it might be driving us a little nutso.


I don't 'hate people'. 

I can't do that. 


I hate what has happened to us.

And I can see it in people's eyes.

In my eyes. 


Looking at the photos of me marching against Monsanto.

They look tired. 

It has been a long hard struggle.


So we march...

Are unified in the common cause for as long as it takes to get from one part of the city to another...


Then we all go home again. 

I looked at the photos of the day...

Looked into my eyes...

They look tired. 


I think I'm running out of hope. 

Like Werner Herzog said, 'running out of fantasy'.  


That miracle I promised you? 

A few months ago?

I told you I believed I could find a miracle.

A place to belong.

A sense of...community.  


Frankly?

I think it's my own personal Santy Clause. 

Insanity Clause. 

It's like turning your back on science to worship fantomas. 


Smoke and mirrors.


I am turning into a smoke person.

I am one of the smoke people.


A zombie, looking for...

a miracle...


& it has turned into my own personal cautionary tale. 


I'm running on fumes now...

& all I can hope for now is a soft crash landing.

Somewhere...

Default Setting.

Lotta' rumblings out there about folks letting other folks down.

Come along now, people; we've been over this before.


if you think anyone owes you anything (respect, courtesy, love, decency, reliability, money, kindness)...

you are nuts. 


Unless they signed a contract?  

They don't owe you squat.  

& even then...

there are myriad ways to default on a contract. 


People default on me in one way or another almost EVERY day. 

If I let it bother me? 

I'd be in the booby hatch. 


I survive by falling back on my default setting.

& I write myself a nice fat reality check. 


Most folk are puffs of smoke. 

I don't invest in puffs of smoke.

Nor do I let them choke me. 


& the ones who aren't?

are what we in the business refer to as 'miracles'. 


& if you think Rome was built on miracles...

You are probably silly enough to think it was built in a day.


Folks aren't there. 

Folks don't care.

So set yourself free...& get used to it.


Or check yourself into fantasy rehab.

Dramatis Personae...

Everything has to be a drama for most humans. 

(me included.) 
 

Not sure why.  I think that's just the way it is. 

We rail against...

Those things we cannot change.

The things that may need changing.

But we filter the action in the wrong direction.


Action...

without focus...

Is DRAMA.


A kind of impotence.

It looks busy...

Suspenseful...


But it is sound and fury signifying...

nada.


Insanity.


Then there are those peaceful souls who mostly watch the drama unfold...

look on in amazement as we, the discord addicts, kick the holy living shit out of everything. 


& each other.


It's like a cockfight.

Madness.


Sometimes as I look at the trail of destruction...

& I think I'd like to change spots for a while.


Watch it from a distance, rather than be in it.


but I can't seem to help myself. 

I was born into it.


When the blood is up...

I can't resist.



Well...

Sometimes I can.


That's when I am the audience...

& the participant in the drama.

at the same time.

& I think, 'this is nuts.'
 
I can make a choice.


When it all goes to hell...

don't look at them. 


Look at me. 

Angel Heart.

 

 

Sometimes...

I feel like Cassiel. 

Or Damiel. 


Documenting human desperation and desolation...

From a distance.


All the while...


Trying to keep my own from breaking out...


and running screaming,

naked down the

street.

An Apple A Day...

I travel to see this.

 

 

A homeless blind guy and his dog. 


Don't ask me what the hell this has to do with anything. 

I could think forever...

and still not come up with a good enough answer. 


I just like it. 

My eye...

my camera is always drawn to this kind of thing. 
 
The beauty and the madness of living on the street...

Exemplified by...


Some guy stopped and gave the dog an apple.

 At first I thought it must have been a rubber ball...

But it was an apple. 


The dog didn't know what to make of it... 

But you know what?


It seemed to make them both happy. 

 

 

 

I don't think I have a clever ending for this. 


All I can say...

All I wanted to say is...


I came...

& I saw...what I wanted to see.


I wanted to see this. 

 

 

 

A homeless blind guy...his dog...


And their apple. 

An apple of this type, each day...


Will keep MY doctor away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(pour CC...)