looking for reason where there is none is niether beautiful or hopeless.
its just something you do.

Ok, so someone died. They weren't mean to die, you say? sure, ill follow you. I mean, they weren't meant to die any more than you are meant to live.

It wasn't their time yet.

Shes in a better place now.

I bet hes looking down on us, smiling.

Isnt it crazy how many assumptions and beliefs and illogical ideas we can fit into one sentence? Shit. Death should be easier to understand.

Cause, generally when things are easy to figure out, we dont muddle it up with make believe.

Every face hides a story
Every story is worth being told
Just look. Just watch and listen and be patient. That last part always
gets me!

His face is hard and quiet and sad and weathered. He collects band
memerobillia, but no one ever visits to see. Is he simple? He wants to
be. He wants to "live life day by day" and focus on only what he can
handle. Maybe he's being healthy.

Here's some math:
Take what you think, and what you know and how you feel about what you
think and know.

Ok, now subtract from that what you feel you can handle day-by-day
without breaking down.

What remains is what the vast majority of north americans are
desperately trying to hide.

Yet they (they, in this case, including me) have this strange
relationship with the feelings and thoughts they think are to
overwhelming. Now and then, you become fascinated with this stuff.
Booze, drugs, music and and art. Love and beauty. These things
sometimes make you forget to supress what you told yourself you can't
handle. And that feeling you get, when you forget to forget, is toxic
and dangerous and additctive and amazing and pure and real and quite
possibly a Meaning of Life. At least, thats how I feel each day.

This is how I got into Sergio Leone. Amazing man, Amazing films.

And you are here

and you are here to hear.

and to hear me is all i want from you.

from all I want to all you are, we slide.

these words cant stay inside me, they cant.

I have the gift of vision and the curse of inspiration.

Brazenly throwing myself upon anyone. I dont want you, I want me, IN you.

I am a shaken bottle of your favourite High Fructose Corn Syrup, and/or Alcahol.

Im unstable, oddly bubbly at times (do you see where im going with this?)

and i cant stop going places. I cant stop doing things. and every place

every THING

every PERSON

every BOOK-SONG-LOVE-SMILE-LEAF-CONVERSATION

shakes me up

and my insides are all fizzy, and my lid startes to quiver

and no one wants to get all sticky, so i try and hold still.

but its too late, im all shook up, its got nowhere to go inside me.

so? what happens next?

I GODDAMN FUCKING EXPLODE

and thats why my stomach hurts today. but,

you are here.

you are here and you hear.

and to hear me is all you ask of me.

from all you want to all I am, You slide.

slide under me, let me breathe. let it out, let it go.

and i WILL get caught up again,

this bottle with legs

and you will be here.

you are paper and pens and my guitar and this blog. thank you for being what no one else should have to be. I love you :)

So, Im digesting Spoon right now (much less painful than it sounds).
Stay Dont Go is cool! Its got a beatboxed rythm throughout the song;
its still very much a rock song. I'm done billeting today, I had a
great time- thanks Paul! Now, I'm in the middle of an inner-city
playground, sitting on a swingset. And yes, typing while swinging does
make me a bit queasy... :p

Love!!!

Yeah.

Today was a blur and the good and the bad and the food and the time were all good but why?

Tonight is a dream where i felt guilty and i told you so and i wish i was there for you that one time.

Tomorrow will be bittersweet, as my time of relaxation will come to an end and i will return to the KatimaLife. However, we ARE on the home stretch, arent we?

You made me feel bad for calling, and your reasoning makes sense. so I dont call. niether do you. I told you how I felt about this and you told me you would respond later and you didnt. and I promised I wouldnt complain; yer here I am. do you care? i think you do. i just wish it felt like it more often. is that what i control? i guess so. just call! just smile! just say anything nice! just remind me you care! just do ANYTHING i wouldnt expect! but that wont happen. if i hold back and wait, nothing ever happens. i DO NOT trust you to come to me. no one ever does. and i can stop coming to people, but i never wait long enough. its not my nature. goddamnit give me something.

Played some Magic tourney; met someone cool from new brunswick, listened to iron & wine. I have an amazing life.

:D another good day last night. this morning im sure I had an amazing dream, but I forget it. dang! what a tragic feeling. in a good way.

So, tonight was a good night. WAS. i went out for a bike ride, met some col people, saw a band from winnipeg play. super cool, been waiting to meet cool musicians around here. but now, im sick! i cant even fucking sleep. i dont want to get into what kind of sick, but its the kind that will keep me in and out of the bathroom all night. sigh..
anyway, good day overall.

man, i could be outside falling in love right now! but im inside learning guitar.
I could be outside seeing the world right now! but im inside playing DOTA.
I could be at the mall, lookin fly as hell! but im not. im sitting here, writing to you!

its alright.

The ending to a song I was working on

As I look forward at my life
I feel like this is true

That if it all ends up in strife
I'll be laughing, how bout you?

If you accept things as they come,
What harm can they do

You've still got a little more world
And there's always someone new.

It would be nice if what I found beautiful in a woman was something
that no one else found beautiful. Life would be easy!

Ive been reading about big ideas for a while, headphones on and loud.
What's happening around me? So, I turn down the music a bit? Close the
ebook, and let some of reality in.

I'm at a waterfront area, July first. Canada day always brings lots of
people here, and looking around gives me more information than I can
handle all at once. Faces and bodies and clothes and conversations and
music and animals and the sky and the wind and faces!

Woah. I can't write about all that, there are too many tangents in my
head. Every time I focus on one part of it, a story appears. Sometimes
I can translate all of the story into a note or a song, sometimes I
can't. Still, I understand every story, which is... Man

Hey! Her! Ok. Her dress looks different. Her hair is tied in a relaxed
and natural way. She looks... Real! Haven't seen her face yet. Man am
I glad I tuned out of that book for a while. Maybe if I show her this
book then,

Fuck! I'm being naiive again! There's her face, and she walks away.
Funny how writing this down disgracted me from seeing which way she
went. I feel like that's a metaphor, but I dont know what for exactly.

Zaman brought me down to earth today, he told me having a blog and
whining about people not reading it is like wanting people to watch
you masturbate.
Wait, what?
Fuck you, Zaman!

Sometimes having too many possibilities can be distracting, I think.
And I have too many. But which would I give up? Maybe purpose is
simply few enough opportunities for me.

On tv, the introspective kid watches and learns and we fall in love
with him because we get in his head, his domain. Then, at just the
right realization, at just the right time, with just the right music
playing, someone asks him what's on his mind. And he delivers the most
amazing speech, and she falls in love forever. The End. I'm not
introverted because life is not like that. You can't hide your love.
Its perfect in your head, but its not like tv, its not the same
outside your world. So we talk, we talk and we write and we sing and
we dance. We try and express the world inside to another person, to
make them see exactly what we do. And we fail. We fail because
language isn't perfect; perceptions
aren't the same; people aren't nice, and we are all scared. Now, all
these problems with reality and interpersonal relationships scare
people into themselves, and the tragic perfection of the world in our
minds intoxicates us so we stop trying to show each other the beauty
we see and feel. So, we hide.
Fuck you. I'm not hiding. I'm fighting. Fighting hurts, but I won't
stop.

It feels like I'm remembering the present.

So I have been volunteering at a camp for people with disabilities for
the last week. Ive had the chance to have some amazing conversations
with people. Ive had a few naps. Ive felt amazingly happy while
feeding an ice cream cone to someone who needed my help. And ive had
time to think for a while. I'm not able to answer any new questions,
but I'm more of the me I like than before.

Meet the belly dancer
She knows her body better
She can speak to you.
She can tell you she is beautiful and happy and fun and comfortable
and confident and in control!
Can your hips speak? Hers can.

How can you express the beauty of silence in song?

If I wrote a song about silence, what would it sound like?

How can I express the power of empty space on canvas?

Would a single speck on a white canvas best convey it? Is it more
effective than an explosion of colour?

I dont know, but its fun to think about!

Words fail! Worse than life. If i were to describe to you in words
what i saw and felt when I couldn't stop staring out the window of the
plane that night, IT WOULD FAIL. It would fail because these are just
words. The poem without a name or any words sits in my head, and I
want you to hear it. That you can never hear it; THIS is my torture.

Words fail.

I step back.
I step back and there are too many things left.
There's no way I could count them!
But I cant do what you do, either.
I won't ignore them. I won't ignore them because I dont know how. So I
just sit and watch... Learning how to better describe what exactly
they are, what they mean, why they make me obsess.

And I was writing another poem
And I looked up and saw beauty
Walking towards me-a blue car honked at her as it drove past.
"showtime!" screamed my body, moving me towards Goodlooking Mode. The
moment came- she smiled, confirming my ideas of what kind of beauty
she was. 5 seconds pass after we intersect, she is behind me.

I turn, walk backwards, a dirty perverted theif stealing a long, slow
gaze; she gets smaller.

Turn around! Wait, don't!
She doesn't hear my thoughts so she just keeps walking. Now my hands
are out, I'm blowing silent kisses on deaf ears; onlookers think i''m
crazy.

Water water everywhere
And not a drop to drink
If all the people in this world
Had only stopped to think
That we need it available
For all of us to drink
We wouldn't waste it quite so much
On toilet, kitchen and Sink.

V

V

Walking out for a while because I need to get back to that good
feeling. Feeling like my chest wants something, but it cant tell me.
It can only ache. Ache is not the right word. Its not sad, but I never
liked how we only have words like happy and sad to describe feelings
which are both and neither. Neither I nor you neccecarily need new
norms; noxious naked notions of a New Normal need not nuke our niceties.