Alright, now I'm pissed. I'm also an idiot. Instead of saving all my ranting from the last two hours of typing, I reloaded the page and lost it all. Most of it was dribble, but I'm sure that there were a couple of golden kernels of corn in that shit I excreted. Now if I just had the mental capacity remaining to remember where that particular tangent was heading.
The fact that I'm not at home anymore is really just starting to set in and the realization that I have no fucking idea what I'm doing out here is scaring the piss out of me, and my inner child just shit himself. Fortunatly I have good friends here and am slowly making new ones. The drugs that plauged me not that far in the past are very prevelant here and it's certainly a test of my will power to stay away from them. I have known for a long time that everybody smokes pot, but ending up in a situation where almost everybody is doin' something else is tough. But I have to put all that aside to tell you about something that learned yesterday: Shane Mack, one of my favorite people in Calgary, died about 10 days ago. He was 26.
Having met Shane about 5 yrs ago, hearing this felt like a steel toed boot to the balls. I'd like to think that in that time we considered each other friends, and I certainly wasn't ready to hear that I won't talk to him again, at least not anytime soon. So I guess this is my goodbye to a brilliant wit, a beautiful artist, a mostly kind heart and a good friend. May you find the peace in death that you forever sought in life. I'll see you again when it's my turn, have a drink ready for me.
Fishbait
Monday, July 24, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
The Prodigal Son Returns.....Sorta.
Finally!!! After 27 yrs of servitude to the city of Calgary, I've finally flown the coop. I went as far west as I possibly could. I'm now on Vancouver Island. The land of the clean air and fresh water and lil mountains that look like pimples on the horizon.
Tecnically I've been here a week, but four days were spent in this lil speck of a town called Qualicum. What's in Qualicum? Old people are in Qualicum.
Now on to bigger and better things, for instance: work. Lucky me, five resumes handed out and four interviews in two days. How good am I? That fuckin' good, that's how good. Picture me as a bouncer. Now try and do it w/out laughing, cuz that's what I'm gonna be doin', and you better not be fuckin' around on my watch.
Yes, it's true, this humble creature that I be shall be deciding whether or not you get to spend your hard earned dollar in a lil place called the Cambie. For a couple months anyway, I'll also be serving, cooking and bartending, though not during the same shift, unlike a bar in Calgary that shall remain nameless. Who am I kidding, Manhattan's sucked and I'm happy to be away. Threre's nothing more irritating than working for a woman who's too fucking stupid to operate a soda gun, unless it's trying to have a conversation with her while she's breathing through her mouth and drooling like a deranged psychopath denied her medication.
But enough about bad things that I am unable nor willing to change. I need the negative experiences to help me appreciate the good ones, and it's all about learning to respond rather than react. Like that time I responded by kicking the guy who ripped me on a bad deal down a flight of concrete stairs. Now, it I had just reacted, who knows what kind of trouble I would have found in that. There would have been no escape route forming in my mind as early as the raising of my foot to his abdomen. There would have been no stopping at the store to buy bleach on my way home to clean my trousers. Yes indeed, responding is the way to go. Damn, I've got issues.
Tha's it for now,
Fishbait
Tecnically I've been here a week, but four days were spent in this lil speck of a town called Qualicum. What's in Qualicum? Old people are in Qualicum.
Now on to bigger and better things, for instance: work. Lucky me, five resumes handed out and four interviews in two days. How good am I? That fuckin' good, that's how good. Picture me as a bouncer. Now try and do it w/out laughing, cuz that's what I'm gonna be doin', and you better not be fuckin' around on my watch.
Yes, it's true, this humble creature that I be shall be deciding whether or not you get to spend your hard earned dollar in a lil place called the Cambie. For a couple months anyway, I'll also be serving, cooking and bartending, though not during the same shift, unlike a bar in Calgary that shall remain nameless. Who am I kidding, Manhattan's sucked and I'm happy to be away. Threre's nothing more irritating than working for a woman who's too fucking stupid to operate a soda gun, unless it's trying to have a conversation with her while she's breathing through her mouth and drooling like a deranged psychopath denied her medication.
But enough about bad things that I am unable nor willing to change. I need the negative experiences to help me appreciate the good ones, and it's all about learning to respond rather than react. Like that time I responded by kicking the guy who ripped me on a bad deal down a flight of concrete stairs. Now, it I had just reacted, who knows what kind of trouble I would have found in that. There would have been no escape route forming in my mind as early as the raising of my foot to his abdomen. There would have been no stopping at the store to buy bleach on my way home to clean my trousers. Yes indeed, responding is the way to go. Damn, I've got issues.
Tha's it for now,
Fishbait
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