Do You Remember The Time
Posted on | July 1, 2009
There are those who will quibble with me about this and I say bring it on.
It’s been a week now that Michael Jackson has died and yet it’s the first time I’ve written anything about it. I guess I just didn’t know what to say for so long.
Have I cried? No. Was I in shock? YES!
He was a touchstone, in a way, to my youth, to my musical taste, to my life.
When I’d heard the news I couldn’t keep my jaw from dropping. I remember events of my own life because his music would colour the moment.
His videos changed the perception of why they should be made. They used to just be promotional tools musicians would send out but he transformed them into art. Ready to stand on their own.
Yes, of course I was one of the people who were stunned when I saw what looked to be him walking on air backwards.
Sharp, concise movements that had1 Fred Astaire commenting about Michael’s brilliance.
It was idolatry, pure and simple.
Even as I type this Billboard Magazine reports that he is, indeed, once again the King Of Pop.
Jackson himself holds a record eight of the top 10 spots, while a Jackson 5 compilation also landed in the upper tier of the chart. His Number Ones greatest hits package leads the pack at #1, selling more than 108,000 copies, a staggering 2,340 percent sales increase. The Essential Michael Jackson and Thriller follow at #2 and #3, selling more than 102,000 and 101,000 copies, respectively.
His breakthrough Off the Wall album is at #4, selling more than 33,000 copies nearly 30 years after it was initially released. The Jackson 5’s Ultimate Collection is next at #5, with sales of more than 18,000 copies. His 1987 Bad album returns at #6 (17,000 sold); Dangerous is at #7 (14,000); HIStory ? Volume 1 is at #8 (12,000); and the 2004 Jackson box set, The Ultimate Collection, lands at #9 (11,000).
The lone non-Jackson album in the top 10 is a reissue of the “Woodstock” movie soundtrack, which sold 8,000 copies to snag the #10 spot.
News reports are calling out, “Revolutionary”, “Iconic”, “Magnetism” - all of which are true.There are others who are mashing those words with, “Strange”, “Weird”, “Bizzarre”. But is that true?
Depends on your perception, I suppose.
Yes, his life was covered in rumour, turmoil and speculation but can we really chatize him for that?
How can someone who was an icon before even his teens be expected to be normal and how can we, as the consuming public, condemn him for being anything but other worldly?
He inspired so many; both famous and very unfamous people.
This isn’t just a, “speak well of the dead” piece. I honestly think he was one of a kind and whatever the opinion the one thing that can never be denied was the man had pure, unadulterated talent.
I know, personally, I will miss Michael Jackson. His talent gave me such joy.
- apparently [↩]
I’ve Said It Before
Posted on | July 1, 2009
There have been blogs, scattered about the hemisphere of Internet users, in regards to the abuse of Politicians and their lack of tact with spending. I saw this on CTV news tonight…
Canada’s 308 MPs received about $127 million in expenses last year but there are no public details into exactly how that money was spent. Some $700,000 of that money is simply classified under “other.” (CTV)
Ummm, I’m sorry. What?
$700,000.o0 classified as “other”?
It’s virtually no secret that I have about as much respect for Politicians, regardless of Party, as I do for the things I flush down my toilet.
Shakespeare said, “Kill all the lawyers.” I’m thinking if he were writing today he’d change that to Politicians.
Yes, of course there are some with the integrity and depth who deserve our trust and accolades for reasons to put that X beside their names.
But it seems that they are few and far between.
It seems they start out with that desire to actually make change but end up wheedling deals in the back that screw the general population.
So what’s the answer? Maybe it’s both. Perhaps it’s that desire to fix our problems with honesty and sincerity but you can’t play the game unless you follow the rules set up by ‘dem politicians‘.
In order to facilitate change you have to rape others.
It just breaks my heart. I’ve written about this before but it begs repeating.
My Mother used to say1 “Politicians get into politics for the right reasons but stay in them for the wrong ones.”
Truer words…
Find out WHICH of your leaders are transparent. Which ones have no problem spreading out EXACTLY what they spend and on what they spend it on.
Politicians like Liberal Marlene Jennings is one of a handful of MPs who has allowed her expenses to go public. “I have no problem whatsoever with those audits being made public so people actually see how the money is spent.” (CTV)
To me that’s honourable.
Even local Toronto jokers2 like revolutionary Councilman Kyle Rae.
He was the first openly gay councellor, beating out his closest rival in Ward 273 by only 1003 votes.
There is no doubt in my mind that he started out with the right intentions but, like a piece of dry toast that sticks in my throat; he was sued for defamation by members of the Toronto Police Force after he criticized a raid in 2000 on “Pussy Palace”, a lesbian bathhouse event.
He called the police “rogue cops” and “goons” and the operation a “panty raid”4
The officers claim that the raid was born from a liquour inspection and the comments hurt their careers and reputations.
A jury eventually decided that the seven officers were defamed and ordered Rae to pay $170,000. The settlement money was paid by the city from a fund that protects councillors from having to pay lawsuits from personal funds. ((also courtesy of Wikipedia.com))
I’m sorry. Mr. Rae gets to say what he likes and the public has to pay his legal fees?
If he was REALLY worth his salt he would have turned down the money from the taxpayers and paid it out of his own pocket.
Yes it’s a years salary but it would have, considerably, changed my mind of Politicans. This is the kind of stuff I’m talking about.
How frustrating is that?
The Liberal Government made an allegation about illegal dealings with former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney and they had to pay him an obscene amount of money5
Now, the very thing the Liberals accused him of is being played out on television in a trial that said he did EXACTLY what they accused him of.
I’m not saying that he’s guilty or innocent, that’s not for me to decide but what bugs the crap out of me is that we, as taxpayers, are constantly asked to foot the bill.
Not just for slander and not just for accusations but for everything.
On top of their $157,738 salary, MPs have a $25,500 annual expense allowance, which can be partially assigned to home costs if they have a secondary residence in Ottawa. (CTV)
Now I know that part of that goes to paying people’s salaries and I’m certainly not one to deny someone a standard of living but COME ON!
That’s almost what I make a YEAR!
Enough is enough. Find out who is representing your riding.
Look at them scrupulously. Find out how they feel about transparency and what their record on voting is.
I hope beyond hope that Obama lives up to all of the hype because he’s made me believe, again, in Politicians.
Weed out the slime and honour the honest.
It really is WHY we vote.
- God rest her soul [↩]
- Politicians [↩]
- encompassing the gay village. [↩]
- courtesy of Wikipedia.com [↩]
- 2 Million dollars is what’s sticking in my mind but I can’t confirm that. [↩]
You Wanna “Tweet”?
Posted on | June 15, 2009
So “Twittering” is the latest craze, huh?
I mean I’ve said it before; it’s for people who can’t commit to a paragraph.
I was thinking of joining and then I thought, “Fuck it! I’ve got my OWN website.
I’ll ‘Twitter’ on that!
Twittering is the equivalent to 90’s “antiquing”.
It’s become an adjective.
What sucks is finishing your laundry only to find that you’ve left one sock and one shirt out of the load.
Lindsay Lohan SUCKS!
The only reason Ashten Kutcher beat out Larry King for “tweets” is because King’s audience can’t turn on a computer.
Wiping my ass….-….NOW
Don’t you hate it when your dog pees on the lawn of the person ?WHO’S WATCHING?
I’m eating lunch alone today. What a loser!
I’m so amazing that I’m humble about it.
Life sucks. Is that sleeping pills I see? Hmmm. Mixed with wine it’s Russian Roulette.
I’m outta smokes! Oh wait! No one knows I smoke. SHIT!
Why on EARTH should I care about Brangelina? They have more money than I do anyway.
Old friends are the BEST!
Stand up Comedians are funny only because they look at things stupidly.
I have to poop. BRB.
Am I done now?
Nnnnnnnnnnnnope.
Losing on internet games, all the time, SUCKS!
Bewitched is, like, the COOLEST show, EVER!
Stubbing my toe HURTS.
Have I made my point?
English Literature is to Twitter as Shakespeare is to Pop-Up books.
Don’t read too closely, you’ll poke out an eye!
Aye! There’s the Rub!
COME ON PEOPLE!!!!
Can you NOT construct a full paragraph? Do you NOT have the intellect to make your thoughts more than, “You want fries with that?”
John Mayer may be thought of as a suedo intellectual but really he’s just wandering the world repeating the same, FUCKING, chorus OVER AND OVER!
“your body is a wonderland…
your body is wonderla-a-a-and”
OH AND
“say what you need to say, say what you need to say, say what you need to say, say what you need to say-ay-ay-ay”
How much fuckin’ intelligence does THAT take?
Maybe I’m old, decrepit and useless, lacking in coolness - but I don’t really care.
Even the news networks: People who cared about the truth are being swayed.
How many times have I heard, “you can reach us on Twitter.”?
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay toooooooo many times.
For God’s sake people, read a fuckin’ book.
Rent a Foreign Film.
Find out more than…
Walking the Dog!
Eating Raspberries!
Wondering why my co-workers hate me.
Life isn’t bumper stickers.
For the “Tweets” life has become “HONK IF YOU’RE HORNY!!”
It can never be.
One person can say THIS about me and I can say THAT.
Who’s right?
We BOTH are.
Twittering demeans and encapsulates a moment into an abbreviation.
“Tweeting” is the ultimate contraction.
He’s.1
I’m.2
They’re.3
Give the full and vibrant picture, please. Don’t dumb it down even MORE for the microwave generation.
What are we going to be left with?
We already have
LOL (laugh - out - loud)
ROFLMAO (roll- on- floor -laughing- my- ass- off)
HEHEHE (self, bloody, explanatory)
MMIHAICT (My Mom is here and I can’t talk)
Punctuation has already become a victim of the “Thumb Generation”.
Grammar has been weeded out in favour of ?speed and elegance.
I’m the first one to defend that language is an ever evolving thing: But for Christ’s sake let’s have some-God-damned-Mother-fuckin’-Jesus-Lovin’-respect for it!!!!!!
I’m old, remember. I still say, “Ask” not AXS .
I say, “didn’t!” Not DIDZZANT!
Language is meant to evolve, I know that. But where’s the colour? The texture?
The life?
We can throw away many things; and I have.
But I just can’t throw away language.
It’s what’s kept me alive.
Twitter away!
Bitches!
I’ll be here to piss you off at every comma!
My Five Senses
Posted on | June 2, 2009
SIGHT:
Well you can see right off the bat WHY I love him. Those eyes make me melt and force me to feed him cream cheese and bagels.
When I come home from a hard day at work seeing this face reminds me that I’m loved. And not in that platonic or casual way but in a way that reminds me I’m needed.
So for that, it’s number ONE of my reasons to love him.
He looks at me with those eyes and I think I don’t walk him enough, feed him enough, love him enough.
There are moments I’ll catch him when he’s not looking at me1 and I’ll fall in love all over again.
People actually stop me on the street and comment on what a handsome dog he is.
They get no argument from me.
TOUCH:
The other day we were lying on the couch together and I was stroking him in that “special” spot right behind his ears and all I could think was, “Where the hell am I going to be without him?”
His eyes were closed and I knew that for that moment that I was the luckiest man alive to know such joy.
We sat there for about an hour; me just fondling his ears and him in ecstacy.
I’m afraid that it’s been my dog that’s defined me for so very long.
SMELL:
WET DOG!
Yes, most of us think it’s a reprehensible smell but when we’re out in the rain and he gets wet2 I smell that dog and I can’t get enough.
Like a kid sniffing gasoline it makes me high.
It’s always been one of my favourite smells. Like lilacs or freshley cut grass - burning wood. It just makes life smell like “home”.
I can have the umbrella because I’m that selfish that I want him to smell like that.
What a horrible man I am. Making my baby suffer in the cold, miserable, rain so I can grab a whiff of that comfort.
SOUND:
He makes this “AWOOOOOOOR” sound. He makes this “RAGHHHHHHHHR” sound3
It’s when we’ve just come in from our walk and he expects his treat.
He gets it mostly because, A: he’s driven me nuts while he smells everything. B: made me spill my coffee on my sleeve while he dives in with his nose. C: takes his sweet ass time strolling through his walk even through the worst weather.
While I’m shivering, his tail is wagging and he wants more.
I love his sound.
TASTE: 
While I’ve never actually tasted him I’m sure it would be like most things. Ultimately he’d taste like Chicken.
But I have tasted the sight, the sound, the touch AND the smell of him to know that when he’s gone I’ll miss him so much I won’t know what to do with myself.
He is the consumate meal.
The full five senses and if I’ve EVER known anything in my life it’s that I’ll never taste as great a meal.
He’s my kid.
My best friend.
He’s my Rufus.
- asleep on the couch comes to mind [↩]
- and miserable [↩]
- if you’ve watched Star Wars it’s the sound the Tauntauns make. Quite awesome! [↩]
Idle Hands
Posted on | May 25, 2009
If I had a car my bumper sticker would read, “Put off today what you can do next week.”
I admit it, freely. I am the most procrastinating person on the planet. I hate having to do “stuff”.
The bland stuff, oh sure. How many times can one watch the Star Wars trilogy?
A full day, I’ve had to clean, launder, vaccum, all of it only to be drawn into watching movies.
For someon who loves the sun I love even more to be sucked into playing on the computer.
It’s a shameful life. Sloth, I believe it’s called.
I’ve done nothing today short of putting a roast in the slow cooker and lavished in the smell that it exudes.
“So this is how liberty dies. With thunderous applause.”
(Sen. Padme Amidala)
Sunlight is pouring through the window and I’m resolute in sitting behind ?a computer.
God, I need help.
So instead of finishing the dishes, taking the dog for his third walk of the day, washing my clothes…
I’m going to have a nap.
Enjoy your day.
Ponderings Between Stops
Posted on | May 19, 2009
Writing on the bus is never easy. Typing on the bus isn’t simple either but there’s been this drive in me to do more writing.
And I get to be inspired by the advertisements plastered on the inside.
There’s one for some Bible study thingamajig. With the less than subtle picture of a deep-azure lake surrounded by a beautiful, lush evergreen forest with the words, “Be still and know that I am God.”1
I’ve often wondered if they’d allow the church of Satan to advertise.
You know; a nice picture of a volcano ejaculating lava from the bowels of the earth with the caption, “Come to our Virginal sacrifice! Also WET T-SHIRT CONTEST!”
So with that in mind, like I said, I’m glad to be writing again.
It might be that I’ve finally gotten into my email for the website2 and found that there were people who, indeed, were, indeed, reading and, indeed, enjoying it.3
What an amazing feeling to get all those comments, so thanks to all of you who have responded in some way or other. It means a great deal.
I’m still having to go through the back door in order to post because something to do with my computer and windows live writer. Like feuding cousins, they’re NOT being friendly right now so please continue to bear with me.
Think of it as the two fighting over Grandma’s will.
I want to get back to the “thought of the day” and “quote of the day” soon. I’ve been storing up so many doozey’s.
It is funny though. There are times I’m out and I’ll tell someone what’s been going on and they’ll tell me that they already know. The confusion on my face must be palpable because they further with, “I read it on your site.”
Then they look at me like I’m a moron when the realization dawns on my brow.
So the summer is here, essentially. I’m in shorts so, yes, the summer is here. This is, for me, the best time because it’s not outrageously humid4 and there’s a slight breeze that allows you to breathe.
As for the wonder dog, he’s not feeling the ill effects of any tumour, AT ALL. He’s still oppressive with his hunger, whining for his walks and begging for his treats.
In fact, the blood in the urine seems to have completely dissipated and he’s peeing a healthy glow of yellow. Do you know HOW embarrassing it is to have to study your dogs piss in public?
Not my finest moment, I assure you.
So I’m holding on the x-rays more for financial reasons than avoidance.
I’ve come to the conclusion5 that it will be what it will be. I will be less for losing him but I am more for having him.
He drives me NUTS but he’s a honey, none the less.
All the friends who are holding such wonderful concern for me have also kept me floating above the devastation line.
The news stopped me in my tracks but the friends and family who not only lend the ear, offer the shoulder, tell me that Rufus means as much to them as he does to me,all of it, it’s been a humbling experience to be reminded that you’re loved.
I’m a lucky man. It makes me think, wonder and worry, about if I give as much as I could to them.
When they’re in need do I?
I know some who would say, “No, you don’t.”6 I also know some who think I go above and beyond the call of friendship.
You can’t please everybody.
It?s the learning to not beat yourself up that is either a rationalization for inexcusable behaviour OR it’s wisdom that comes with age.
Which ever it is I’m glad it’s taken some of the pressure of feeling like a constant failure in life.
Dustin Hoffman once said that when you get older having a good bowel movement is better than great sex.
I think I MIGHT be at that age. Oh, God, I hope not.
Well I’m off to bed with a nice glass of Metamucil, my back pillow and two Advil. What a LIFE!
- Psalm 46:10 A. [↩]
- it was shut down for the longest time so if I didn’t respond or something got lost, I’m sorry. [↩]
- I’m having this thing with indeed right now. Bear with me. [↩]
- I do love the heat though [↩]
- now that the tears have subsided [↩]
- I can give you names! [↩]
The Beginning Of Goodbye
Posted on | May 13, 2009
How do you say goodbye to something that’s given your life purpose. I know that sounds dramatic but that seems to be my forte; so why not run with it?
This morning I did the usual routine. Woke up, got dressed, went to Tim Horton’s and Rufus and I shared a bagel and cream cheese. He sat in front of me, puppy dog eyes glancing upwards begging for a bite.
I usually give in. It’s those eyes. I can’t resist.
Today was slightly different though.
Before we sat down on our usual bench I saw him take his pee.
When I noticed it was full of blood - I got scared.
So we sat down and I tried to take stock of what to do next. The vet was just down the street so we headed there.
Got a urine sample and then the vet saw him.
He asked question and “hmm’d and hawed” through my responses, acting as if it was a puzzle that he couldn’t figure out. I was hoping for, “It’s a bladder infection.? Here are some pills.”
Then he started to drone on about his condition, giving me a full break down of all the parts that make the whole. I finally just said, “Just tell me what it is.”
“A tumour on his spleen, it looks like.”
I tried to be stoic. I mean, I knew this day would come when it would be something or the other but I just didn’t think it would be this soon.
The stoicism gave way to freely running tears that came and the vet kindly handed me a kleenex box.
“So would surgery work?”
The answer was a no. That it might take away some of the tumour but they wouldn’t get it all and that he was of an age where he wouldn’t bounce back.
So tomorrow I take him for X-ray’s to find out the size and then I have to make my decision.
I can’t imagine my life without him. I know that sounds stupid to those who don’t own dogs. I mean HE’S JUST A A DOG AFTERALL but he’s my friend. My kid.
He’s the one I gripe to when I have to take him out in the cold and he’s just bounding about happy as can be to just get outside.
Since most of his life has been illness free it’s the beginning of goodbye to my companion. To the reason I have to get up. To the reason I have to walk so much. To the reason that makes me smile from the centre of my core.
Decisions will have to be made, of course, and I’ll make the right one. I have always been envious in that when it’s an animals time, it their time and they get to go peacefully, gently into that “good night”.
He’ll just “fall asleep” and I’ll be left a wreck.
Eebadee, Eebadee, That’s All Folks!
Posted on | April 29, 2009
It’s a pandemic. Isn’t it?
The word is being flung around like a shuttlecock in a badminton typhoon.
All the major (and even minor) news channels are predicting the black plague for the new millennium.
Will we be dying in the streets, blood pouring from every orifice, screaming out for mercy?
So it’s a mish/mash of human, pig and bird virus that’s brought us to this place. And all I can think is, why are people fucking pigs and turkeys?
We had this “ground zero” effect of SARS in Toronto. ?All were walking around ducking a cough like dodging bullets.
Torontonians, on the global playing field; we humble Canadians were second only to the Guangdong province of China.1
Travel advisories were pamphleted out to other countries. Stop going to Canada. Even those IN Canada2 released press kits to “Stop filming in Toronto. We don’t have SARS.”
I, myself, had a coughing fit that led me to believe I was going to be spending my last days in an oxegen tent, quarantined from my family and friends.
A newly fashioned Darth Vader, gasping for breath while muttering my last will and testament.
So I thought I had it.
No, I hadn’t just returned from South China. No, I hadn’t even had Chinese food that week but the cough was so outrageous and phlegm covered that I was convinced I was a carrier of this new disease.
The doctor looked at me with a resigned “hypochondriac” rolling of the eyes and I was released.
I had to put on a paper face mask. I felt so “ER”.
Now with the “countdown to death” watch on the news,3 I’m led to believe that we’ll all be wiped out in the coming months.
Orphaned children will be lining the streets looking for a new Mommy and Daddy to take them in. But Mommies, Daddies, beware. If that child complains of sore muscles, coughs, sneezes for God’s sake, cast them out back on to the streets.
We’re due for a global wipe-out aren’t we? We haven’t had a really good one in well over a century.
Now the religious zealots will tell you it’s a sign from the Apocalypse. The next thing will be four horsemen riding through your backyard like Paul Revere, waving his hat and singing, “The Saviour is coming, the Saviour is coming!”
But it’s just Mother Earth reminding us we’re insignificant. It’s why Tornadoes always attack trailer parks first. She’s just saying, “Get this shit off my lawn.”
Wasn’t AIDS supposed to be the new pandemic? Weren’t we all supposed to catch it through door handles and toilet seats? How many of us “squatted” when we had to go?
“Don’t put your bum on the seat, you’ll catch the AIDS.”
We’ve been down this road before. Many times.
It’s the job of the news makers to keep us glued to our seats in the panicked fervour of being terrified of the unknown.
“Close the schools. Shut down the malls. You’ll DIE!”
The end is certainly NOT nigh so put away your sandwich board with some random quote from Leviticus 12:32.
So just be smart, people.
Wash your hands all the time.
Ransack your pores with Purell and for GOD SAKE DON’T DRY HUMP A PIG.4
You should be fine.
Oh, and don’t go to Mexico.
- I had to look that up, people. [↩]
- Quebec and British Columbia being the top two [↩]
- Oprah, for God sakes is doing a piece on it. OPRAH!! [↩]
- Or if you do, wear a condom. [↩]
“So, Umm, Yeah, Ummm, I Want World Peach…No, Peace! I mean, peace. Yeah, peace.”
Posted on | April 22, 2009
So by now we’ve all heard1 about Miss California’s big screw up.
Asked whether she believed in Gay marriage; she said NO. A big, fat,2 NO!
It was a “no” heard around the world. Or at least those of us who scan the internet for something we HAVEN’T read already.
Parez Hilton3 asked our blonde and perfectly bland, vacuous and empty, model-cum- pageant Queen if she believed in Gay marriage.
It wasn’t pretty.
If Ru Paul was there, tiaras would have been flying. There would have been more claws drawn than all five Catwomen combined.
So, pretty, privileged but thinking she’s suffered blond useless skank believes being gay is a choice.
Well, I would have to agree with her, on ONE point.
Yes, there is a choice but it’s not about being gay.
Speaking from one who knew he was gay before he even knew what sex was I know that actually being gay is a birth right. A gift. The choice comes in accepting who you are and what God gave you.
You know, in all of this it doesn’t escape me that perhaps4 I’ve been somewhat of a stereo-type. Domineering Mother, five older sisters, only had female friends - blah, blah, blah.
The list goes on.
But I do know this.
I have been given many tries at love. And for the most part, have failed.
And I just know this. At least I love and it’s real.
So, to you, Miss California. You didn’t lose your crown because you spoke your mind. You lost it because you decided that promoting bigotry is acceptable.
Oh and the Christians danced. Oh and the Mormons praised. Oh and the Zealots knelt.
We who believe in equality for all shook our heads and thanked whatever Maker we believe in that you got trounced!
Yeah, I love.
And that’s enough for me.
- those of us in the know anyway [↩]
- muther-fuckin’ [↩]
- he churns my stomach as it is with his trademark bitchy-ness and bad hair [↩]
- just perhaps [↩]
There By The Grace Of doG
Posted on | April 19, 2009
In the nightly ritual of walking my best friend1 I mutter to myself.
Now that my iPod is gone but not forgotten, I have more time to run things around in my brain.
Not necessarily a good thing, people.
It’s the time now that I rationalize my personality traits, both lacking and in ample supply.
You can rationalize anything, really, I’ve come to find out.
Suffered indignities aside; dogs really have it right.
“I want this, hmmm, let me piss on it.”
That’s their business card.
Urinate on something and it’s yours. “I was here. Let me know if you showed up.”
I’ve seen my pooch, tail seizuring, pushing out his waste. There’s no room for shame, shying here people. It’s right there for everyone to see…and hell, someone even picks it up for you.
Would I mind it if someone picked up my shit?
Came up and scooped up the mess I’d left behind.
No way!
And yes.
Damn!
Who wants to be saved? No one. It’s usually the self who want to do the saving.
But asking for help, that’s tough part.
I’ve been told, over and over, “You never ask for anything.”
Well that’s because when I do I usually get shot down. That’s not a bad thing, mind you but it leaves me shaking me head asking myself, “But they said, if I needed help…”
See, I’m great when someone says, “Ummm, can you…?”
I’m there. Like a subway train right on time, I’m there. Right on schedule.
But it’s when I need the train because, ‘God damnit, I’m going to be late’ that I’m stuck counting on others.
See, dogs HAVE NO CHOICE but to dependant. Well the domesticated ones, not scrounging the garbage cans and alley ways looking for a living, anyway.
I wish I was a dog. I mean, yeah their life must be filled with tedious moments with all that is sleep but, fuck, I could handle that.
Of course being so completely dependant on others must be a piss off.
Still though, what a great life it must be. To have food when you want it. To get walks and the occasional snuggle that keeps you energized. I wouldn’t mind being someone’s “bitch” for a bit. Probably a good life.
Oh but it’s that Angel on your left shoulder screaming in your ear, “NO! You must do it for yourself. That’s makes you strong.”
God, no wonder I drink!
The voices; I can’t stop the voices. “You should do this!” But then it’s countered by, “No, if you do that then this is who you are!”
Ask for help? God forbid. If you ask for help, you’re weak. Unstable. Lacking in strength. But isn’t it to ask for help that keeps you humble?
Ohhhhh, and don’t we feel obliged when help is given, even by family.
I know I do. And that’s why asking brings a level of shame I never thought possible. It was taught by my Mama at an early age, “Don’t ask and don’t accept.”
Maybe she was right.
See, I give to you there’s no payback2 but you give to me and you own me.
The funny thing is that when I ask, there’s that part of me that succumbs to my failure as a man3 but at the same time I’m proud of myself for shaking off the chains of the past; the voices that haunt me like last night’s broccoli. Repeating themselves over and over. “Don’t ask…don’t ask…”
I guess, just like my dog, I want my butt scratched and some kind of appreciation.
Is that so wrong?
No of course not. It’s letting go of that voice that tells me I’m winning the battle. With each day and ray of sunlight I remind myself, “the rain’s gonna pass. You may need an umbrella, galoshes and damned good water insurance but this too shall pass.”
I will tell you this. It is when I’m turned down for anything and I have to rely on only on me, I surprise myself and realize I can do it.
So it’s a good thing I’m not a dog. It would be easier but it’s not the life for me.
Sleeping on the couch, food bowl full of food even when the Master is hungry, sniffing butts4, acquiesce to someone else? Not me.
It’s sad but true.
I guess I really am I own man.
By fate, by destiny or just damned good timing.
This is me. Naked.
Did you see my tail wag?
- who can drive me nuts, by the way, with the amount of time he wants to go out - even in sub-zero temperatures. [↩]
- well maybe a little [↩]
- But what is a Man? I put that too you. [↩]
- contrary to popular belief, I don’t do that! [↩]