Back Into The Man I Used To Be
So here we are. Another day of waking up, facing the grind,
and eating life all the way down the rind. It has been a little
cooler in St. Catharines this week which has been a welcome
change from the ballsweat, ass juice nights that we were
having here for the entire summer. Even with A/C on. Damn.
I gotta find a new job. This one is beating the tar, piss and
vinegar out of my being. I know, I know, hate the job love
the paycheque but it shouldn't be despise the job, hate life,
and semi-like the paycheque. But there has not been a hard
time as of yet invented that I cannot handle so I guess I'll
stick with it. It could be worse. I look at the pictures of
Africa and the people that Live 8 sort-of, kinda tried to help
and it's pretty shocking to realize that even as a minimum
wage worker, how much more shit we have here in Capitalist North
America than they do. Kinda scary.
The summer is half over. I write that in tiny typeface to hide the truth of it. In some ways, I'll always love the summer more than any other season
in central/southern ontario. It represents a time where meeting
with old friends and family is an importance and we try to do
it as much as we can. Everyone seems to be more agreeable
and understanding. Weather has some strange effects on our
psyche, I'm sure.
It's been a low key week. I'll keep ya posted if I'm goin anywhere.
Jon, I want to see you for sure. Dalton, Buck, miss ya big time.
Adam, again, you're my brother and I love you. Layta playaz.
The Nature Of Things
This past weekend, I've felt as good as I've felt for as long
as I can remember. This doesn't mean I was wholly happy and
praising God in unfettered joy and bliss. No. I still have my
hang ups - I've been worrying about having heart attacks for
some unknown reason even though I had a physical a while
ago and the results were fine, even after bloodwork, and I
worry that I'm wasting my life in St. Catharines. I feel like I
should be somewhere else doing something else ALMOST 100
percent of the time and that time is running out on me. I turn
29 this fall, and that may part of why I think I have no time,
because I think back to my teen years where I thought I'd be
a successful musician or writer or person of influence by 25.
I set my bar of standard - I high jumped - and I missed the
mark.
But I think what I'm starting to realize is that to put these notions,
these premonitions and agendas upon yourself, is total bullshit.
Sure, one should have a semi-goal in mind, but guaging them by
age or time is no way to live.
THE ABOVE PICTURE ^ shows the sort of view I
had this past weekend. With my friends Josh and Olivia in
Westport, Ontario, and of course Sarah, we camped out together
in Olivia's parents new backyard. That is the sort of view I woke
up to Saturday morning, and after having a few Guelph micro-
brewed lagers with my homie Josh the night before, we stood
on the dock and looked out to a dark black lake, foley mountain
to our left, and a massive spread of stars in the overhead, with
only loons and utter silence as a soundtrack. This, I thought, is
my church. Those buildings where people go on sundays and
dress nice and then fill the booths at Swiss Chalet afterwards are
only a medium for
THIS place.
HERE is where I'm astounded,
dumbfounded, and thinking outside myself and only knowing
that there has to be a Creator behind it all. Sometimes it really
pisses me off to think of what churches have become...and how
when the idea started, it was done outdoors and very basic and
simple...and look what we've made it into.
'Jesus entered the temple area and drove out all who were buyingand selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changersand the benches of those selling doves. "It is written" he said tothem, "My house will be called a house of prayer but you are making it into a den of robbers" matt 21: 13,14
The Sun Also Rises
Douglas Coupland, in his book 'Life After God', talks about the
idea that the mind is a glass of water when it comes to
experiences, memories and most things, and that at about
the age of 30, the glass is pretty full. I've been getting that
feeling lately, for some reason. All I want to do is to find a
lake somewhere and re-baptize myself into a world where
everything makes sense because alot of things don't make
sense to me right now. Days float by in a breeze and years
can often feel like a month. I think 'Was that 2002? That was
3 almost 4 years ago? Damn!'
But in other ways, I know that is not true, that if we didn't make
it past the age of thirty, life would be pretty damn selfish and
unfulfilling and there would be no great authors, musicians or
everyday fathers who put themselves aside to see the greater
good of making their loved ones happy. Their would be no one
to help the folks like us who can at least nod at our troubles,
having learned to listen, and say 'I hear ya...and it doesn't
ever get any easier...but ya just keep going'. Keep going. I
think that is something that many of us need and want to hear.
A still, small voice in the darkest of nights that whispers it
into our heavy hearts.
The title of Hemingway's work speaks for itself, because the
sun, my friends, also does rise. We just need to remember that
when it's going down.
A Day In The Life
(The Beatles)
I read the news today oh boyAbout a lucky man who made the gradeAnd though the news was rather sadWell I just had to laughI saw the photographHe blew his mind out in a carHe didn’t notice that the lights had changedA crowd of people stood and staredThey’d seen his face beforeNobody was really sureIf he was from the House of Lords.I saw a film today oh boyThe English Army had just won the warA crowd of people turned awayBut I just had to lookHaving read the book.I’d love to turn you onWoke up, got out of bed,Dragged a comb across my headFound my way downstairs and drank a cup,And looking up I noticed I was late.Found my coat and grabbed my hatMade the bus in seconds flatFound my way upstairs and had a smoke,And somebody spoke and I went into a dreamI heard the news today oh boyFour thousand holes in Blackburn, LancashireAnd though the holes were rather smallThey had to count them allNow they know how many holes it takesTo fill the Albert Hall.I’d love to turn you on.
Normality Restored
I feel like, for the most part, my life is starting to get back to normal, (whatever
the hell normal really is) and that as tides of trouble ebb and flow, I'm sort of
learning how to swim through stuff. Being married isn't all about a constant
ecstatic high of 'gee, it's great to be able to have sex whenever you want' or
'gee, i'm glad i found someone who has ALL the same interests I do' because
that just ain't reality. Marriage is hard sometimes, and I think I'm finally
coming out of the zone where I can stop saying that all the time and just accept
it because the truth is Sarah walks with me through the sunny days and the
dark nights and that is something that just cannot be substituted for anything.
I've taken it for granted, yes, and I'm starting the realize the power of two.
A great weekend was just had in Kingston, as well, which was part of my
realizations. I got to see alot of old homies from the Iawah days of Lore. One in
particular who I hadn't got along with in some time. I got to drink beer with
him at the Lone Star, with many friends around, and just be myself and he was
himself and we just cut the shit, so to speak. It was glory. A breath of mountain
air in an otherwise darkened valley. He is going to be a father soon. Right on. I
don't want to be a father for QUITE some time yet so... let's keep the prayers
comin. Anyways, c'est tout pour ici. Au revoir, mes amis. Remember the
mountains whenever you need to.
Let It Go; The Damage In Your Heart
Well, well. It's been over three years since we heard from these
American rockers and I do say the new album entered my earphones
with a certain bittersweet flavour. Now I don't really mean bittersweet
in the sense that some songs are good and some aren't (though this
is true) but that Rivers Cuomo is obviously someone who has gone
through some seriously and psychologically traumatic shit in his life.
After the release of 'Maladroit' in 2001, it was a known fact that Cuomo
checked himself into a voluntary mental institution. From being someone
fairly ordinary to being an icon in the spotlight from a mega-platinum
album can be something pretty overwhelming and I guess, to the depths of
a mind like Mr. Cuomo's, this plus alot of personal baggage just drove
him to the point of 'not being able to take it anymore'. This is a place
where alot of us have definitely been, I think, but is a place where
we all sometimes must go in order to achieve any kind of growth.
MAKE BELIEVE: The Truth in the Art
The fact is I'd give this album no more than a 7/10. The music is
definitely well produced (master Rick Rubin of Beastie Boys, Early LL
Cool J and Metallica productions) but the songs in their composition
are all kind of lacking. Yeah, Beverly Hills is blasting and a great loser
anthem for those who loathe the rich, but there's about 4-5 songs
out of 12 that I could definitely go without and that's not great.
The redeeming part of this album, though, lies in the truth that is definitely
in the lyrics of Cuomo who, aside from Beverly Hills, does his best to
bear his real feelings with the listener especially in the area of failed
relationships. He wishes for a place where instead of harping on the
bad about someone and 'letting love down the drain' he could hold on
to something special between two people. The song 'The Damage In Your
Heart' is also one that struck a real chord with me and gave me the old
shivers while walking to work in that we all have shit we've gone thru
and the only real way to be cured is the mental act to 'let it go'.
I'm not trying to put words in his mouth, here, and I could very well
be wrong but I think Cuomo is just tired of being a geeky, pessimistic
realist and that the real world is too damn ugly of a place for us to NOT
make believe because the outlook is too bleak otherwise.
THEREIN LIES THE MORAL I'VE LEARNED...We all entertain some form of escapism, and being a Christian, myself,
I kinda, well, HAVE TO be an escapist sometimes because I dream of
and believe in a world beyond my own. The world I live in is a damn good
one though, but we have to get shut of our surroundings sometimes.
Whether it's through creative outlets, reading, writing songs or just
blogging...I NEED to get away from time to time. It's what makes this
world all the more bearable and understandable. Rivers, I think I hear
ya man. And there is damage in my heart. I don't know if I can fully let
it go yet but...I'm on the way.
The Post Ottawa BlahsI really dislike St. Catharines. 4 o clock is seemingly stalled in its approach to get here. Usually, 4 pm is when people finish. Not me. That's only 1 and a half hours into my shift. crazy. anyways, just sitting here, wishing i was elsewhere in another life. Crazy. I throw crazy in there when I have nothing really of any interest to say. So I sit and I type, tethered to a desk of discontent. I know I shouldn't be complaning, but I really can't help it sometimes. It helps pass the time. Plus, why did God give us the ability to complain in the first place? I know that deep down I'm happy...I just need to find my place in all of this. I'm floating, lost in a sea of transgression and pent up longing for the past. My friend Todd said in his blog that he no longer believes in escapist fantasies but I tend to harp on them. Maybe that's because my imagination tends to run wild with desire, making me think I should be more important than I am. But what's importance anyways? What is importance linked to? Status? Job? A writing career with no creative boundaries? Music? Oh, dear music.
These are my pipe dreams.
...Speaking of pipe...I think I'm gonna go out and buy one very soon. I just feel the need to smoke a bowl of Captain Black.
