michael1111
12-07-2005, 04:51 PM
(when you do shift work like me, you tend to have days off in the middle of the week and you find yourself alone a lot. i actually like this and i take walks and people watch, one of my fav things to do. these two stories were written after an afternoon walking around downtown toronto...rough draft versions)
Larry, With the Cup of Holy Spirit
I was talking to Larry, the Christ-bum, and I asked him what he thought of the tsunami and all the aid it has generated. "What tsunami?" he asked.
There is a reason we are asked to pour our goodness away from ourselves. We throw money at those we don’t know, while millions waste away here, in poverty and jails, for crimes committed in the act of living; charged for the benefit of fat fucks. Those poor souls in other countries need much help, but it would only take the actions of a few old men in suits tailored by the devil himself, to release that tight grip of debt. Eliminate money, eliminate poor. Keep the money flowing, keep the problem going. That might be dreaming, but it's logical (or so I told Larry).
Our good intentions always placed outside ourselves (money makes it easy)...what do we really do for us? What am I really doing for myself? "Not much" said Larry, the Christ-bum. "Very funny" I said. “I'm just the genius in an Eagles record, standing out while fitting in. I don't make change when I pour my goodness out and leave myself empty. It's the pull of all that goodness that keeps the world spinning to the bad. We are running on a wheel chasing what will make us whole, when we could just stand still and experience it for real. We are the 'mark', the 'sucker'. We are born every second and every second is shackled to time.”
"Here’s the deal" said Larry, the Christ-bum. "Most who do evil never really know they are doing it. It is done disguised as an act of goodness, but that act is toward things outside of themselves, things they've been given to see. This leaves the good guys empty and easily filled with the evil concepts that create the situations they pour their good toward. It's how situations like bombing a country to set it free and make it better, come to be. Those who think they are doing ‘good’ don’t even notice the wrong that’s filling them up inside. It's done with great cunning by little old men who know what I'm talking about, for I am the thing that makes them what they are. We think a lot alike."
Wow. I told Larry that what he said kind of blew my mind. He told me it was blown long ago. "Ever wonder why it's so hard to get people to understand you, or get them to listen to reason?" asked Larry. "It's because they are so busy doing good and believing they are doing good, that they cant see what's really happening to them. They block it out because they are afraid you might be right. They just point to their actions and justify it in the name of love and other such nonsense words you’ve been given to deprive you of it."
I kind of understood then, dropped a quarter into the cup with the hand of the Holy Spirit reaching out of it, and thanked Larry for everything. He just went back to constructing his cardboard palace, the one he built for Lola and all her phallic glory.
Walking With Old Uncle Neil
It was really warm here in Toronto. Yesterday, the city woke up to being covered in ice. Today, people are outside with no coat on and enjoying a day that feels more like spring than the middle of winter. I had the day off, so I decided to walk to get my hair cut.
I had a nice long shower before I went. I used this expensive soap Tracie and I bought as a Christmas present for us. It’s from a company in Italy that has been around for hundreds of years and made soaps for royalty. It smells really simple and old, with a fragrance that isn’t masculine or feminine, just fresh and clean with a hint of pomegranate. I lathered up some Johnson and Johnson’s baby shampoo in my hair, followed by a fancy conditioner Tracie uses. It has this manly, old, English smell, like something you would buy at Marks and Spencer. It reminds me of my old Scottish relatives. While that was on my head, I used this facial scrub that we bought from some shop that sold products made in the Middle East. If the soap smells old, this stuff is ancient! It smells so familiar to me, but I’ve never been there before, at least not in this lifetime. It’s filled with the sand of the desert and feels wonderful against my beard, like a dog being scratched. And yes- I use a facial scrub…so what!?
Ok, and I’ve also been known to use a little bit of anti-wrinkle cream once in a while, but that’s it! I swear!!
Back to my gay, I mean day...
I always walk really fast, but today I decided to take my time. I saw Larry, the Christ-bum, but he was sound asleep over a subway vent, so I high-fived the hand of the Holy Spirit that was sticking out of his tattered coffee-cup and continued on my way to the barber. I don’t much like my barber sometimes. It’s a love –hate relationship. He is this nasty, racist, Italian guy, with a thick accent and who likes to call people from certain cultures ‘animals‘. This from a dude with hairy knuckles! Anyhow, I go to him because he keeps it real and because I know, even he wants what I do- a little peace. He just thinks you get it through killing those ‘animals'. Whatever, he is an artist with the clippers and a piece of my childhood brought to life again, minus the booster seat.
On my way there I saw a lot of squirrels that had obviously been woken from their winter sleep by the strange warm weather. They were molting and quite disheveled looking. Actually, they looked completely fucked up and I found this very funny! I saw a big black one on a garbage can, so I went over to him and in his haste to run away, he ran INTO the can itself. “Ha-ha, Now I’ve got you my pretty.” I went over to look inside and study my cornered piece of the wild. When I popped my head over the can, he jumped up and stood on the rim, watching me and eating a french-fry that somebody had thrown away. At first it looked like a cigarette and I laughed out loud. He looked at me and I looked at him- it was love. It was also then that I noticed the two girls (who were obviously tourists) staring at me and talking softly to each other in what I think was German. I just gave them my best smile and tried to look cool. They smiled back, impressed with my nice skin.
This all took place beneath the world largest phallus, the CN Tower. Canadians love their big penis. It’s wrapped in our pride like a pair of tight fitting jeans. Although I walk directly beneath it almost every day, I don’t really notice it anymore. That’s saying something- a thing as big as the CN Tower, a marvel of technology, human endurance and genius, but I only notice it a few times a year. Maybe it’s too much of a reminder of the reality we are living in- a wonder on the outside, but empty at the core. Anyhow, I finally got to the barbershop and he had just started cutting another guy’s hair. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I decided to walk around downtown and watch the working people.
I walked over to union station, Toronto’s train palace, and waded into the hustle and bustle. This is a big junction for public transportation and it’s always busy during the day. I did a lot of people watching, smiling first at the girlies, then at everybody. People smiled back. That seemed like a good thing to me, like hope. I went by the food court and got a great waft of sweet air from Cinnabon, thought about it, then decided I should be a good boy and just make my way home.
Today was a light-grey day outside. I decided I would walk home even slower, like my favourite, but dead uncle Neil used to do. I dreamed about him last night, so he was on my mind. In my dream he held my hand and led me places, but i can’t remember where we went. I pretended to take hold of his hand as I made my way home, taking on the style of his golden years. In the end he developed that old man walk, where they stop every twenty or so steps to take it all in and wonder about thing. It’s just like kids do, except kids do it because they haven’t been here long, old people do it because they won’t be here much longer. The daylight was the perfect brightness to make the details of all the buildings around me stand out. It was as if I could sense each building as being its own entity, alive and with purpose, not just a part of the background.
I looked at all the skyscrapers, the Skydome, the Skywalk...all of this stuff that man has made in some weird attempt to solve a riddle they asked themselves. It all stood before me like a large grouping of monoliths, each an offering to the gods, any god. I felt like a speck of calm in a sea of noise, but though there was constant motion all around me, the earth felt very still. I breathed deep, inhaling everything all at once and it smelled like the first day of school. It was the subtle hint of promise blowing through caverns of misunderstanding. I felt so alive against it all. For a moment I shone and saw what everything around me was for…nothing. I felt liberated by the perfect absurdity of existing. I let go of Neil’s hand.
I then went about writing a post, describing my day. this is how it ended...
michael :)
Larry, With the Cup of Holy Spirit
I was talking to Larry, the Christ-bum, and I asked him what he thought of the tsunami and all the aid it has generated. "What tsunami?" he asked.
There is a reason we are asked to pour our goodness away from ourselves. We throw money at those we don’t know, while millions waste away here, in poverty and jails, for crimes committed in the act of living; charged for the benefit of fat fucks. Those poor souls in other countries need much help, but it would only take the actions of a few old men in suits tailored by the devil himself, to release that tight grip of debt. Eliminate money, eliminate poor. Keep the money flowing, keep the problem going. That might be dreaming, but it's logical (or so I told Larry).
Our good intentions always placed outside ourselves (money makes it easy)...what do we really do for us? What am I really doing for myself? "Not much" said Larry, the Christ-bum. "Very funny" I said. “I'm just the genius in an Eagles record, standing out while fitting in. I don't make change when I pour my goodness out and leave myself empty. It's the pull of all that goodness that keeps the world spinning to the bad. We are running on a wheel chasing what will make us whole, when we could just stand still and experience it for real. We are the 'mark', the 'sucker'. We are born every second and every second is shackled to time.”
"Here’s the deal" said Larry, the Christ-bum. "Most who do evil never really know they are doing it. It is done disguised as an act of goodness, but that act is toward things outside of themselves, things they've been given to see. This leaves the good guys empty and easily filled with the evil concepts that create the situations they pour their good toward. It's how situations like bombing a country to set it free and make it better, come to be. Those who think they are doing ‘good’ don’t even notice the wrong that’s filling them up inside. It's done with great cunning by little old men who know what I'm talking about, for I am the thing that makes them what they are. We think a lot alike."
Wow. I told Larry that what he said kind of blew my mind. He told me it was blown long ago. "Ever wonder why it's so hard to get people to understand you, or get them to listen to reason?" asked Larry. "It's because they are so busy doing good and believing they are doing good, that they cant see what's really happening to them. They block it out because they are afraid you might be right. They just point to their actions and justify it in the name of love and other such nonsense words you’ve been given to deprive you of it."
I kind of understood then, dropped a quarter into the cup with the hand of the Holy Spirit reaching out of it, and thanked Larry for everything. He just went back to constructing his cardboard palace, the one he built for Lola and all her phallic glory.
Walking With Old Uncle Neil
It was really warm here in Toronto. Yesterday, the city woke up to being covered in ice. Today, people are outside with no coat on and enjoying a day that feels more like spring than the middle of winter. I had the day off, so I decided to walk to get my hair cut.
I had a nice long shower before I went. I used this expensive soap Tracie and I bought as a Christmas present for us. It’s from a company in Italy that has been around for hundreds of years and made soaps for royalty. It smells really simple and old, with a fragrance that isn’t masculine or feminine, just fresh and clean with a hint of pomegranate. I lathered up some Johnson and Johnson’s baby shampoo in my hair, followed by a fancy conditioner Tracie uses. It has this manly, old, English smell, like something you would buy at Marks and Spencer. It reminds me of my old Scottish relatives. While that was on my head, I used this facial scrub that we bought from some shop that sold products made in the Middle East. If the soap smells old, this stuff is ancient! It smells so familiar to me, but I’ve never been there before, at least not in this lifetime. It’s filled with the sand of the desert and feels wonderful against my beard, like a dog being scratched. And yes- I use a facial scrub…so what!?
Ok, and I’ve also been known to use a little bit of anti-wrinkle cream once in a while, but that’s it! I swear!!
Back to my gay, I mean day...
I always walk really fast, but today I decided to take my time. I saw Larry, the Christ-bum, but he was sound asleep over a subway vent, so I high-fived the hand of the Holy Spirit that was sticking out of his tattered coffee-cup and continued on my way to the barber. I don’t much like my barber sometimes. It’s a love –hate relationship. He is this nasty, racist, Italian guy, with a thick accent and who likes to call people from certain cultures ‘animals‘. This from a dude with hairy knuckles! Anyhow, I go to him because he keeps it real and because I know, even he wants what I do- a little peace. He just thinks you get it through killing those ‘animals'. Whatever, he is an artist with the clippers and a piece of my childhood brought to life again, minus the booster seat.
On my way there I saw a lot of squirrels that had obviously been woken from their winter sleep by the strange warm weather. They were molting and quite disheveled looking. Actually, they looked completely fucked up and I found this very funny! I saw a big black one on a garbage can, so I went over to him and in his haste to run away, he ran INTO the can itself. “Ha-ha, Now I’ve got you my pretty.” I went over to look inside and study my cornered piece of the wild. When I popped my head over the can, he jumped up and stood on the rim, watching me and eating a french-fry that somebody had thrown away. At first it looked like a cigarette and I laughed out loud. He looked at me and I looked at him- it was love. It was also then that I noticed the two girls (who were obviously tourists) staring at me and talking softly to each other in what I think was German. I just gave them my best smile and tried to look cool. They smiled back, impressed with my nice skin.
This all took place beneath the world largest phallus, the CN Tower. Canadians love their big penis. It’s wrapped in our pride like a pair of tight fitting jeans. Although I walk directly beneath it almost every day, I don’t really notice it anymore. That’s saying something- a thing as big as the CN Tower, a marvel of technology, human endurance and genius, but I only notice it a few times a year. Maybe it’s too much of a reminder of the reality we are living in- a wonder on the outside, but empty at the core. Anyhow, I finally got to the barbershop and he had just started cutting another guy’s hair. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I decided to walk around downtown and watch the working people.
I walked over to union station, Toronto’s train palace, and waded into the hustle and bustle. This is a big junction for public transportation and it’s always busy during the day. I did a lot of people watching, smiling first at the girlies, then at everybody. People smiled back. That seemed like a good thing to me, like hope. I went by the food court and got a great waft of sweet air from Cinnabon, thought about it, then decided I should be a good boy and just make my way home.
Today was a light-grey day outside. I decided I would walk home even slower, like my favourite, but dead uncle Neil used to do. I dreamed about him last night, so he was on my mind. In my dream he held my hand and led me places, but i can’t remember where we went. I pretended to take hold of his hand as I made my way home, taking on the style of his golden years. In the end he developed that old man walk, where they stop every twenty or so steps to take it all in and wonder about thing. It’s just like kids do, except kids do it because they haven’t been here long, old people do it because they won’t be here much longer. The daylight was the perfect brightness to make the details of all the buildings around me stand out. It was as if I could sense each building as being its own entity, alive and with purpose, not just a part of the background.
I looked at all the skyscrapers, the Skydome, the Skywalk...all of this stuff that man has made in some weird attempt to solve a riddle they asked themselves. It all stood before me like a large grouping of monoliths, each an offering to the gods, any god. I felt like a speck of calm in a sea of noise, but though there was constant motion all around me, the earth felt very still. I breathed deep, inhaling everything all at once and it smelled like the first day of school. It was the subtle hint of promise blowing through caverns of misunderstanding. I felt so alive against it all. For a moment I shone and saw what everything around me was for…nothing. I felt liberated by the perfect absurdity of existing. I let go of Neil’s hand.
I then went about writing a post, describing my day. this is how it ended...
michael :)