Maybe a punch in the gonads is better than ice cream

It’s a message you hear all the time in some form.  It’s the sentiment that’s important and often forgotten although the words will change depending on the situation.  Basically, you should take time to enjoy what you have today because tomorrow it may be gone.  Life changes, and although that isn’t a bombshell, it is a deep thought if you choose to ponder for a moment or two. 

Who do you have in your life today that may not be here tomorrow?  Maybe it isn’t a person, but a job, or a hobby.  Just because today is today doesn’t mean tomorrow will be as good.  In life we gain and we lose, and I have been reflecting on loss because it seems I am surrounded by it.  I am lucky in life and have gained far more than I have lost, but I am on the opposite end as of late.  My losses have been deep and ongoing for a while now.  With the floods and the subsequent events it causes reflection.  My voice is small in all of this, but I am going to add it to the chorus anyway.

I know we can’t wait around for the other shoe to drop.  You don’t want to live in fear of what might come.  I would recommend the opposite, and that you love everything to the fullest extent possible that you have today. Your wife, your brother, your dog, your job, your day on the golf course… Whatever it is that is right in front of you to love, just love it more.  Hold on to it a little extra while it’s yours to hold onto. 

I have been through an incredible long term steady incline in quality of life in the past little while.  Reflecting on the last ten years (minus hiccups) I have reaped far more than I feel I have sowed.  Perhaps that’s the reason for the change, perhaps not.  I don’t want to question the deep philosophical side of this.  I just want to send up a smoke signal to all my readers around the world (and amazingly you are all around the world).  I want to let you know that I am loving you all extra today, and tomorrow I intend to do the same.  Thanks for wanting to get into my head and have a look around; Thanks for listening when I rant, and not switching off when I go too far; Thanks for making me feel good about myself.  It truly means a lot to me, and I realize more than ever that I have only one chance to say thank you because tomorrow is tomorrow, and I only have right now.

So carpe diem, or smell the roses, or live in the moment, or whatever words you need to hear, but when life changes for better or worse you need to know that the day you had today you loved it to your fullest capabilities.  That you won’t be remiss or regret what could have or should have been.  I have been trying to love more everyday for a few months now since I lost a dear friend.  Trust me, when it happens, you spend too much time thinking about what you should have done differently.  Thinking about things you could have done or should have done.  You wish for what you can’t have, and try to move forward knowing that life will just always be, pardon the lack of eloquence, less good.  The trees are not as green etc. etc.  Maybe it doesn’t last forever, and I am not saying that life will never be as good.  Life will just always be different, and you will miss something you can’t have back.  So love what you have right now, love who you are, and love everything you love more. 

Well you don’t have to actually.  The result will just be you end up like everyone else, and at the end of the day what is wrong with that…  

The rusting metal on the genitalia

I can notice I am getting older by the distinct lack of words that are flowing through my head. There was a time when words were my only true friend.  They were there for me when no person was.  I leaned on them, there was comfort in the way they flowed. I took refuge from life in joining together sentences that were too long, and often overfilled with emotional garbage tempered by lyrical and dramatic flair. In other words, I was a teenager who was wrong done by life and I was passionately angry that I had been singled out. I was angry that I was strapped with a dysfunctional family and how dare the world treat me so unkind when everyone else had it all so easy and carefree.  Sound familiar?

I'm not sure that I've grown up in maturity the same way I have packed on the years and the pounds to my body/brain. I find it harder to come back to this blog and spin words about the state of my mind. Perhaps because my mind is in such a state of disrepair. I am choosing to blame it on my age. My age makes my life boring. The scandalous unfairness of the world belongs to us all. This isn't a startling revelation I know, but it would be to most teenagers who are wrapped up in a selfish womb of self importance and arrogance. 

I am realizing now that my dream of writing in retirement is just that.  I will certainly be able to paint, but I'm not sure the sharpness for words I once had will remain. I guess I'm old enough now that this realization doesn't cut me to the bone the same way my lack of a writing career cut me down in my twenties. The famous lines 'I could have been a contender' seeped from the marrow in my bones through my twenties. Now that I am in the final year of my thirties I sit here reflecting on the death of my ego. Unfortunately for whatever talent I possess my laziness won out, or life won out, or I sold out, or I never came out, or put out, or threw it out.  Insert whatever 'out' that applies I am not the only one who lost a dream. Oh man! I haven't lost the ability to express my woe have I? The eighteen year old me would be so thrilled.

Let me state for the record that my writing may be falling off, but my painting has been taking off.  The stuff I am creating right now is beyond my expectations.  I am impressed with myself. I have happened to end up at the right place at the right time twice and been given some sage advice. I am excited to see where it takes me.  I owe a debt of gratitude to Stan McKenny and Nick Rooney, two very talented artists who took some time to coach an old guy along and make me better. When I knock the rust out of my brain and some words fall out I hope to find you all back here again for another journal entry from an angry old man.  My crustiness has only just begun to form. 

Wait... That sounds gross... Uh whatever!

Suck it life - I am made of steel

Today will not define me.  It can cast dispersions or grow regret.  It can be the start and may be the end, but today will not define me.  I can sing praises or bellow threats, I can see disaster or breath life. I can discount relevant theories or I can ask for forgiveness for rash decisions, but today will not define me.  I have not fought in wars or been compromised by others. I have rarely followed suit, and I try to follow as well as lead, but today will not define me. I have been discouraged to follow my truth. Lost my way before I left the house. I have persevered and I have almost crumbled. I have been a boy child and a man, and I have made mistakes I would like to take back.  I am prone to pompous pride and I feel inadequate in the ways that lead to success, but today, I must say, will not define me. I have boiled truth down and I have told brilliant lies.  I have pretended that wounds have healed and I have given praise to boost a friend. I have climbed a mountain and ran a marathon, and have looked agony in the eye without backing down, but that day will not define me. I have allowed my withered soul to lay thread bare in the wind, attempted not to find repair, but found it easier to just give in. I have dug a hole, and trudged the ditch. I have run my mouth and shot the shit, said things that ought not have been said to entertain or raise the dead, but those words, no those words, will not define me. I have revelled in a stinking funk, left the chamber fully cocked and walked away to see the result. I have herded kittens into a box and stuffed envelopes to champion a cause, but those actions do not define me. I can be a staple or the weakest link, be the power and handle rage. I will deal with humble and I will deal with past, hear the stinging words that I barely grasp, but those days are not the days that will define me. What does it all mean, maybe nothing or maybe all, that is for you and not for me, I merely pierce the words and watch them bleed, but today - cannot be the day that will define me.

A manifesto without a cause
a brilliant poem written in your head and not written down
a half a story - a half truth - a curse
a way of living without need for lyrics or verse
enabled spell check with predictive text - someone else's words that utter threats

Evil is a clown face with a popsicle

As an artist you are constantly feeling broken.  You feel torn between the world that everyone else lives in, and the one where you create.  That may sound condescending, but it isn't meant to be.  It's the opposite actually.  I have met some truly great artists that create beautiful work, and yet they doubt themselves daily.  You feel inadequate, over-exposed, too emotionally invested in pretty much everything.  So to defend yourself against the world, at least in my case, you end up outwardly portraying the exact opposite.  You come off as aloof, withdrawn, and uncaring.  Its a required defence mechanism, or maybe that's just me again.

I was asked to write a bio for an event that I did on Friday.  In the bio I described myself as the faceless businessman.  I described myself as a person whom you may believe had skeletons in his closet, or secrets hidden under the floorboards.  The more I thought about it I realized that it hits on a truth.  When I blog about being upset, unhappy, angry, etc. I end up having to defend myself.  I end up having people constantly asking me if I'm OK.  And it's not that I don't appreciate having friends or a spouse that cares enough to ask the question, but as an artist sometimes you just want to be, to expose words for their raw meaning, to let out some of the demons from underneath the floorboards.  Those demons will never disappear.  The art I create will never be good enough for myself.  So from time to time the thoughts will escape, and once words are spoken they cannot be returned.  I will once again be over-exposed.  Sometimes you want to throw the words out there for people to marvel at without judgement, without concern for your welfare.  When you write a novel you don't want people to look at you like what you've written is about you.  You are supposed to be allowed to create, and for those who don't know you they will allow you that expression, but those people that do know you will look for themselves in the words, or look for glimpses of the author.  It would be hard for them not to.

I don't think there is a resolution to this dilemma, just like the demons will never leave the faithful artist.  We would be dull without our demons, and probably wouldn't be very good artists.  I realized that I am more of a performer than a true artist.  Quite frankly my art is in the music, then the words, then the paint.  It is all 3 that make me who I am, and mostly I feel mediocre.  I cannot change that, and it is far from false modesty.  I will never be good enough for my biggest, staunchest, loudest critic - myself.  Others think I'm OK, and that is the first thing my inner critic likes to point out.  I do give myself credit for painting in front of 250 unknown people (mostly unknown).  I guess my view on my art is it lives in the realm of performance art.  That's what makes it stand out.  I am calm in front of a crowd, and I lack the good sense to be concerned about the outcome.  I suppose I lack good sense in just about everything I do, but I do allow myself one thing I never thought I would.  I allowed me - to call myself - an artist.  I can honestly say I didn't ever think that would happen.  So tonight there is one fewer demon taking up space under my oak floor.

Thanks to Steve, Nicolette, Bryan, Allan, Devo, and Angie from the F2 Furnishings, Calgary Creative Arts and Culinary Foundation, Lux Marketing Solutions, and Cab City for a great night.  It took me two days to wash the paint off my hands and I still don't have my voice back, but a good time was had by all.

Cigarette butts, empty bottles, and a side of stupid

Hello, hello, hello, echo, echo, echo.

So this strange dude with a potbelly and a hair shirt (that's me) walks back into a room (this blog) and although the dude feels at home there is six inches of dust on the counter tops and no one bothered to take the mail out of the mailbox for six months and instead just let the postman cram what he could into the box and let the rest just fall on the floor.  Really people if we are going to be neighbors it's the least you could do. 

Where is your head at?  I know I haven't been here in months, but I come back and it's like you've thrown a massive party and destroyed the place.  The least you could have done was invited me to the party.  Hey man, what the hell is with the used Q-tips everywhere and is that a pile of rubber underwear in the corner of the bedroom?  Look, I like to drink and destroy things just as much as the next guy but that is just sick.  If we are going to be friends we have to get one thing straight - I am going to come and go like a junky and you're just going to have to wait around for me until I need my next fix.  I mean you didn't really think this was going to be a two way street.  You can hang out here and treat the place like a bus station bathroom, but when I get back I expect to be able to eat off of that toilet seat buster. 

Don't expect me to be all happy to see you, and don't ask me questions about where I have been.  I am a ghost and an invisible man who just so happens to like to run naked down the middle of a crowded street in broad daylight occasionally.  This is exhibitionism and torture shaped like a bullet and surrounded in a gooey chocolate and toffee coating. A guy needs space to run around like a wild dog, but dogs do like to have their bellies scratched from time to time, so here I am.  My belly is up and ready to be rubbed, it is ample, and it won't be that hard to defuzz yourself after. 

It really went off the rails in the middle somewhere, but in my defense I am completely insane, and I never said any of this was going to make you any smarter.  If anything the most you can hope for is to not end up brain damaged.  I pride myself as being a man that can prattle on with the best of them.  Yes I just used the word prattle - I do occasionally like to think I live in the 1950's.  Back when women were broads and  booze was in every desk drawer. 

I know at some point in my life I'll pay for that last sentence.  Probably some broad with an attitude problem.  Oh boy!

9 people in Israel read my blog this month.  If you've been following the news then you will understand why I was floored by that.  People with bombs bursting and lives being lost around them reading my mental drizzle astounds me.  Thank you to whomever you all are.  I hope if anything you were able to ignore reality and keep entertained by my idiocy.  It makes you realize blogged words are not hollow.  It often feels like what I write should just echo off of the walls of the web and return home unread, but the reality is those words find eyes in the most unlikely places.

Peace...

White guys who dig rap get shot on karaoke night

I am a contributing member of a charitable group called Canadian Artists for the Poor.  I will be part of a project they have in the form of Art Walks in Calgary Starting June 4th.  That being said I have been working like a mad man.  Painting as much as I possibly can.  My art has changed recently because the music I have been listening to has changed drastically.  When something changes in my art I don't know if it will ever change back.  My life has changed a lot in a short time.  Most of it for the better.  I miss things, I take things too personally.  I haven't blogged in a long time because I have nothing to say.  Everything that I have to say is on the canvas behind me.  I think I might actually be becoming an artist.  I mean I might be able to call myself that.  Others do, but I don't believe them.

I hope that some day my intention shows better.  I hope the things I've done wrong in my life, I somehow find a way to make up for.  I don't know where I am going, but I just have my head down.  I don't have time to be introspective.  I miss you all, but now is not the time for me to come back to this spot yet.  I am working, and when that dries up the words will flow again.  Until then stop by my studio - you can see where my brain is at, where my heart is at, and where my life is at.  I miss you...

In the mean time I will be listening to rap.  Hardcore rap.  Lots of inappropriate words screamed into my ears at far too loud a decibel.  I don't think I am allowed to listen to this stuff, it is certainly not normal for an old white guy to be so into Drake, but there it is.  I just wish he would rap words I could repeat out loud.  For now I just White Man Dance my way around my studio throwing paint on the walls and occasionally on the canvas.  If someone out there knows Drake let him know he's awesome, but the clean version of his stuff only has about every 5th word so you can't listen to it, and the unclean version makes me feel like I am going to get in trouble and perhaps sent to Politically Incorrect Prison, or maybe just shot.  I dig it though - only a white guy would say that - see what I mean?

Tractors and soiled underwear in spray bomb green.

I'm writing, I'm working out twice a day, I'm painting, I'm playing guitar again (very poorly), I am working hard at my new job, I'm eating better, my head space is clearing.  The year has started well.  My new job is taking a lot of my limited brain power, but it's a good job and I really like it.  I heard an interesting term the other day "golden handcuffs".  It may be old, but it was new to me.  If you don't know, it basically means you are over paid for the job you do, so you can't go anywhere else if you are unhappy because you'll never make the same money for the equivalent work.  I think it applies to other things too - patterns you fall into that are easy, and appeal to the lazy side of your personality, and then you have a hard time getting out of it even of those patterns are destructive.

It certainly applies to me in some ways when it comes to work.  I would love to have the balls to take a major pay cut, and write for a living.  I have been encouraged to do so, but I like my lifestyle.  Right now my new job is very challenging.  I like to be challenged.  I have to set the alarm, and wake up much earlier as my new job is much farther away from home.  I am at my desk at 6:00 am, and before I leave the house I have to workout, so when the alarm goes off at 3:55 am it is earth shatteringly difficult to get out of bed.  The people that own this company are different than any business people that I have ever worked for.  They are so focused on their employees it's like waking up in an alternate universe.  I am used to fighting with my bosses to make sure my guys get what they deserve, and in this company everything is readily given if it is earned.  It makes me want to work harder, but when that happens something has to give.  I can't write as much, I can't workout as much, I can't paint as much.  So basically, I have to give of myself, and forget my needs, not only for my paycheque, but for other reasons too.  When the people you work for actually care about you first, and the success of the company is for the benefit of all including ownership, my needs start to come second.  That type of ownership is so rare, and unbelievable at times, that what I need seems small.  Basically,  it's a personal want/need deal breaker.  I don`t get to be selfish.  I need to be plugged in, I need to get the job done, and I need to cultivate that business.  It just has to be done.  Something like this, is just so rare it has to be maintained and groomed.  It has to be successful.

I have spent my life running other people`s companies, even though I have the skill and knowledge to run my own.  Sorry if that sounds immodest, but it`s the truth.  I have just never been able to find the thing I was passionate about in the business world that would make me take that kind of risk.  Having the ability to do something is only a part of the equation, you need to have the desire as well.  I guess my ability to write and my desire to be a writer has never been equal enough, or I have never been confident enough to take the risk.  It`s too bad in some ways, but where would the world be without guys like me that made sure tractors got built, or that underwear was sewed properly, and in the store on time?  Where would the world be if paint was never made in large enough quantities or didn't come in spray bomb green, what if aeroplanes weren't fixed or unloaded on time (wait a minute, bad example.  Airlines are horribly run and always late.)

The world we know is fueled by people.  Not all of us get to choose what we do to earn our retirement.  That's what the term "golden handcuffs" means to me.  I can start sentences with "I wish" or "I should", but the reality of my life is "I haven't" and "I'm not sure I ever will".  When you've written 3 books, without having gone as far as trying to sell one - it has to mean the ability doesn't match the desire, but sometimes the desire is so strong and deep it burns.  Don't count me out, I don't want your sympathy.  There are thousands of people who would do anything to have my life.  I guess that's why I often feel so selfish for wanting more.

At the end of the day, handcuffs are often used for pleasure, I'll stop here before this becomes a blog about S&M, but from time to time, it does feel like I am getting bent over.  At least now it feels like it's for a good cause.

This isn't about lost hope.  Lord knows I have landed on my feet, and I guess the question is whether I really deserve it or not.  I encourage you all to follow that path you want to be on.  Take lessons from people like me that can and don't.  You can do it.  I have run a marathon, I have written books, I have sold paintings.  None of that happens without something getting done.  Yes, we can always do more.  I will be successful in the end.  Be the pilot, be the captain, don't get tied to things.  I am not saying don't make a commitment.  I am saying that small steps towards an end result are great, but the more freedom you have, the bigger steps you can take.  Don't let anyone tell you - you can't.  That's bullshit.  Take my example and do better, be more true.  Don't take this as me complaining or regretting, my experience can make yours different, and I am not in prison, I have free will, and I am own man.  The only thing that ever held me back was me, maybe I am meant to make sure you don't make the same mistake.  Maybe the idiot windbag moniker from a couple of weeks ago was more apt than I thought.  You decide...