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.