The Young and The Restless...

The Illusion of Individualism

2012-01-17T19:17:00.000-08:00

I cannot recall how many times I have heard the words "You cannot rely on others. You can only rely on yourself." thrown at me.

I always thought to myself, "What a wonderful concept. Pure Individualism" but the more and more I dwelled on the thought the more I watched it vanish in my mind.

The dictionary defines an individual as such:
1. a single human being, as distinguished from a group.
2. a person: a strange individual.
3. a distinct, indivisible entity; a single thing, being, instance, or item.
4. a group considered as a unit.
5. Biology .
a. a single organism capable of independent existence.
b. a member of a compound organism or colony.

Are we able to rely only upon ourselves?

In our modern day society in one form or another I believe we MUST rely on others. This, however, has become a propagating system. A system in which we are unable to focus solely on progressing as an individual but having to re-leave and/or take on burdens within a constant chain of merely being connected to another party. Visa Vi; a friend, family member, boss, loved one, acquaintance, enemy, etc. This system came with the advance in population. The more people around you the more attached to you they become. In our society we are not afforded the right to just be oneself. We are more or less given the illusion that making small insignificant choices like what type of clothing we wear, music we listen to, cars we drive, books we read, etc. grants us the right to be a full blown individual. This however is far from the case. To be an individual is to be completely free of any attachment outside of the being in question. To not be attached to said parties is an absolute impossibility these days and therefore we must be detached, worried, nervous, paranoid, and sometimes edgy over the fact that we may be affecting another person in a negative or positive way, which in ALL cases is inevitable. This reflection on the state we leave other people in after even something as basic as having a conversation has forced the mind out of the individualist stand point and into what I want to call an analytical group absorption. Our minds are now constantly processing information regarding how people will react to certain situations, how they will respond to certain questions or remarks, trying to comprehend what they are doing when they are not around you. It is almost dividing the brain into multiple portions based on the human beings you have come into contact with or live around on the average day.

Not a soul in this modern day world of ours will be able to rule himself or herself as a single, self propelled entity. The upper class will rule over the middle class and must rely on each other as well as the middle class to stay in its place of power. The middle class must rely on the upper class to either progress towards that level or remain in that current status. The poor must rely on all of the above in order to survive with the bare minimum or progress upwards toward the middle and upper class systems.

Bringing it down to a more personal level you will find the same cycles in effect. As an example one could choose to open up a business. Unless this individual was born into mass amounts of wealth they could not do so without consulting a bank to take out a loan, or bringing in a partner to help with expenditures. Another example would be the path of an artist. That art could be anything from being a musician, painter, writer, what have you. Although you are creating something that comes solely from the basis of the individual they must rely on others to appreciate what it is they are putting out there and so once again we have stumbled back onto the reliance of others to invade the individualist theory.

gov·ern·ment/ˈgəvər(n)mənt/:

1. The governing body of a nation, state, or community.
2. The system by which a nation, state, or community is governed.

The mere fact that we live under a governed structure defies the purpose of attempting to be individualistic. With this power in place comes the controlled direction of ones free will. If you do not agree with a governments set of laws you will be chastised and punished... In other words, forced to become part of the 'god-head'. The premise of governing is to abolish the principal of the individual. If you refer back to the point I made about upper, middle class, and the poor you have to understand that every politician and political party in power are there because they have the monetary gain to do so. They are the upper class. None the less, because of the system in play they must also follow the rules cast among them. In no way are they any more individualistic as we. No matter how badly they strive to think so.

Do not let the idea of free will confuse you.

We have become platforms on a step ladder leading to another set of step ladders. A constant chain of cycles with the pretend notion that you can live off of nothing but yourself. And as Jean Paul Sartre once wrote "Obviously, Freedom as the definition of a man does not depend upon others but once there is a commitment, I am obliged to will the liberty of others at the same time as mine." This is something that we should be well aware of. This is the illusion of individualism.

Ramble On

2011-11-29T12:52:00.000-08:00

You talk and talk and talk and talk

Yet...

What do you have to show for your rambling?

A friendly smile
A suggestive nod
An opinion louder than another

Blee Blah Blue
Whoop DE do!
Your point has been lost in an instant
Maybe next time you form a meaningful idea you will remember to write it down for the future
and instead of impressing dead ends
By being SO different
Or
By holding a stronger attitude than the last
Try to grow on your own
Sometimes weak
Sometimes numb
and you will never have to get nervous about falling asleep at night

You could learn a lot from biting your tongue
Even when the information is strong

You talk and talk and talk and talk

Yet...

Where has it ever lead you?

Down a one way road to another night of talking
Until your throat finally dries out
Soar

We know you do
Yes, I know its true
That we never get around to any of it
My mind may be strong and it can sure take a lot but I hold it in instead of letting it all go
No need to please the masses
By finding topics that appease them
Observe for a reason
Just sit back and leave them
Rambling on
Babbling on
just relax, take it easy
and I never have to get nervous about the walk back home

Ive learned a lot from biting my tongue
Even when the information is strong

You talk and talk and talk and talk

Yet...

What do you have to show for your rambling?

You Don't Blame The Lettuce...

2011-11-09T15:48:00.000-08:00

You never blame the lettuce
for embracing what it's learned
whether it grew beside a crucifix
or inside a prison yard
It may grow up to be an astronaut
or wear your sisters clothes
As long as everything is done under the sun
and its dumb to smoke a cigarette
beside a tank of gasoline
to shoot an apple off the head of a baby
crying in the street
maybe a little misdirection is all one really needs
Explosions may sound beautiful to me...

Adorned in army green and chewing bubble gum
Yelling never helped to cure the vertigo
Vaporized
Bi-polarized
Glad to be monopolized
At least you had the cash to buy new shoes

You never blame the open door
for carrying in the wind
You never blame the shiny blade
for digging in your skin
Your temples have been throbbing
Your head is bound to hurt another day
as long as the doctors can identify your pain

You never blame the lettuce
for rotting in the ground
They've got scientists and activists
to point the blame on other things
like the fact that its not getting enough
action in the bedroom
Its not romanticized
No, its just criticized
It has passion for its mother and it has passion for its dog
One it needs to follow and the other tags along
and speaking of connection
The only charity that you have ever been offered
Was from the man next door who wanted
to burn
your house
down

Sweet anarchy!
New plastic slavery
THEY are out to get us
Don't blame the lettuce

Friends

2011-11-09T15:06:00.000-08:00

We walk around like a parade of gypsy's
Not knowing which one of us is going to fuck, cheat, steal, or love
But we feel different
"Not much like the others." They say...
No.
Not us...
We have sifted through the muck
Like stubbed toes of our generation
Trying to find ourselves
Expressing pain as if it were a drug rubbed under everyone's noses
Reaching out to be numb

Even time is hard to come by these days
15.00 dollars at sun rise
0.00 by midnight
Slaves to the three part circus act
Fuel for tripe devastation
Explosive
As if there were blockbusters primed on every street corner
Detonated only by the madness of our fruitless desperation
We live together
We die together
Always seconds away from picking out our insides
and putting them on display for any on-lookers to wrap up and take home

Reflection

2011-08-13T22:56:00.000-07:00

Dear reader:

The first of the three ignited quick like gasoline. Strong will for fun. Laying the night on thick. A couple bumps in the road. So be it. Sat around content and got pushed into failure. If you dream for perfection you'll get a handful of mud. It all couldn't have been any clearer but the underlying message of the thing waded under the surface. Waiting for the worst time to strike. Anger does get pointed in all of the wrong directions 90% of the time and this was no exception. He had a right. He had a cause. Something pure and I felt it. Like a solid slab of marble I felt it pushing me down. My eyes burned red. Things disappeared as others stood glaring from corners and as he walked away the dark cloud hung there suspended. All the bright smiles in the place suddenly faded to yellow. The goodbye's were expelled with misery. The earth stopped spinning to let me know that tomorrow could not come faster. Burn baby, burn.

This one is all about me but make sure you double check to be sure. The scales have never rocked so unevenly back and forth and back and forth. Poor thing. Fading halo. All decked out for novelty. Hubris? I am. Whats he mean to you? Nothing. But I'll stick around just to make sure that the family can never fall asleep. When I wake up I will love you and when I have nobody else to see, I will give you the crown. Not for too long. We wouldn't want you to keep it. "Scavenger. Rat fink." Says ant number four hundred thousand and thirty three. "Now get me to where I want to be!" He stood there fuming as red as a fresh pimple. Industrious and alone. A mosquito bite. The more you itch the bigger an issue it becomes and when the antigens begin to attack the antibodies of the human structure there is nothing left to do but tip your hat, agree, and walk away because this is what it comes down to. This is how we connect. This is how we tend to disappear.

Its almost a miracle Ive made it out alive. The last three days should have had cockroaches screaming for sunlight and princess' begging for toads. Even the air in the room would not force it's hand just to let us breathe easy for a moment. Fuck it. This is the world I know. Yeah. Just another day. Steam pouring from manhole covers. People running amok in the streets. It's all coming to me. The bastards can kick and scream and cry until they've forgotten who they were in the first place. An attempt to feed their blood to the soil. Its looking rather hungry these past few days and if a man could flail limbs and chew off others heads so consistently, who are we to blame it? Another junkie with a taste for gold. I mean, shit. What is the point of communication without repercussion? Am I right? Fucking eh. Someone has to show these maniacs who's boss.

Push

2011-08-11T23:58:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wanted to cry
SO hard
That you push
and push
and push
and nothing comes out?
Not even a single tear
No salt
No liquid
Just dry
and empty
and worthless
Like you have exerted
ALL
of the emotion left in your body
and it hurts worse than crying
because at least with the tears
you were letting something go
Washing away your problems
for a brief moment in time
but you don't
and you cant
and you force it
and push it
but still
nothing
You end up sitting around wondering
WHY?!
there is nothing...
You want to cry like a baby
Cradled, snug in your mothers arms.
Like when you were a child
and you scraped your knee for the first time.
You want to cry like this was your first heartbreak
When you were 15 and your girlfriend stole your skateboard
You want to cry like you will never see the burning hues of the sunrise and sunset
again
You want to cry like your mother
and father
and sister and brother
You want to cry like your friends
There used to be feeling in doing that
There used to be something
but you cant cry anymore
and you want to
SO hard
that you push

For the woman crying on her cell phone

2011-08-03T12:17:00.000-07:00

Today is the day I realized I had lost a book of my poems
A book I have lived a decade beside
I sat outside on my front patio with a cigarette and a beer
and I thought about how much that black book had meant to me
How much love and hatred was scribed in its pages
How it grew with me and seeded itself into my world
I took in the sights of the people walking by
Chit chatting outside of the restaurant across the street
Turning their noses in the air at the sight of me
"That many beer in the afternoon."
They would never understand
the loss I was feeling for my black book.
Not longing for the metaphors or expressions it contained
Not longing for anything at all
The couple next door seemed happy
The birds chirped and sang pleasantly from the tree's
The squirrels hopped and danced through their branches
Chasing each other for food
and even the sun was calm and mellow
as I sat down
Cast in shade.
You never really quite understand how much something like that means to you
Until the day comes when you find out that it is gone forever
Into the ether
Into an unknown realm

There was a woman two doors down.
She was crying hysterically into her cell phone
Tears streaming down her face
I took a drag of my cigarette and watched intently
She knew how I was feeling
and eye contact was all we needed.

Van Morrison Caught Me Watching Movies at His House

2011-06-24T10:54:00.000-07:00

Nothing really frightens me anymore. No matter how far or fast I walk toward the Sun its feels as though a storm is constantly stalking my back. I have become a grim reaper of the party. The only guy they will listen to but not until they have gone over the edge. What that edge is only they could know. The happiness illusion for rattled souls. Put here as an ease of mind to know that one day they will have a home. One day they will become doctors or politicians. They will have husbands or wives and children. One day they will not be like me. Hope driven, over read, paranoid, sarcastic, and a chalk full of attitude mother fucker. Over analytical, quick to judge, hard to impress, and better off alone somewhere. Burning with green flame like an aluminum can tossed into a campfire. Toxic.

Nothing really frightens me anymore. Guns, knives, drugs, cancer, genocide, suicide, murder, Armageddon, or death. These have all become welcome signs that we will always rise up through the filth. That we are in fact still alive. Breathing through the shit and still colonizing like insects. As glib as that may sound this means that we still have hold of our heads. We can still silently cling on to that far away dream. The hope that whatever we believe freedom to be could still very well be in the distance for us. When that one day comes I will be there. Smug with a childish grin on my face. Prepared. Either for death or enlightenment but none the less, prepared.

Hunt me down Van. Swing that axe hard. I have been watching movies in your house and all I wanted was to simply meet you. You chased me down like a wolf and all the while I was staring directly into your eyes. Hunt me down. Show me I still have something to fear.

Backwards

2011-06-08T22:48:00.000-07:00

I am living in a backwards colony. A colony of people who do not care to see, speak, touch, or feel. A place where art has been bludgeoned to death with a hammer. No more music with heart, no more writing with care. Observation has been tossed swiftly out of the window. Sure we get around and we may be lucky enough to have some friends and beers, smiles and families but what does that mean? When did the quest for knowledge and experience get over ruled by laziness and lack of inhibition? There has got to be something wrong with a generation of our young growing up idolizing apathetic floozies on a stage. Walking around in skirts hiked up to their ass cheeks. Complete, inelegantly with multicolored make up smeared grotesquely across their faces. Waiting around shopping malls or bus stations, bars and clubs for a quick one night stand. Plugging their brains into computer monitors and exploiting their personal lives all over the Internet in belief that a society like this should be 'normal'. This society is significantly far from normal. I cannot help but be beside myself when a civilization of people so obviously defective will rape, destroy, beat, injure, corrupt, kill, set ablaze or commit suicide for a form of currency exchange that the people propagated amongst themselves in the first place. Products of our own demise. Enslaved to a dream that will infinitely be out of reach. We are all predisposed to shrug the notion off now. The primary fact that we as people deemed all of these sociological traits as advantageous. Money, Time, Loans, Debts, Prisons, Poverty, Religion, Crime, Corruption, Racism, Violence... Its ALL our fault. Although we are more content to neglect the certainty. We are all to blame.

Success is an Elusive Horse

2011-05-26T10:55:00.000-07:00

There has to be some way to make it in this world. Having not yet found my place has forced my outlook to become a little drab to say the least now-a-day's but I know that I am still young and I have always carried this in the back of my mind. There must be some last shred of opportunity out there. A way to put my talents to good use and benefit with a compliment toward the way that I would want to live respectfully and comfortably. I have never been one to succumb to other peoples pressures or advocacy and I feel as if this has jump shot me into the role of an estranged renegade of the modern times. My art is mine. I observe and report and it has always been this way, but thinking in these manor-isms has always rendered my glass rather half empty as opposed to it being half full. In fact, I feel hardly the least bit quenched. I am poor, destitute and broken down. I cant afford to purchase any food. I drink water and eat whatever I can find that is left in my closet. Things like Raman noodles and old cans of soup, plain white rice and a package of croutons and yet always come across a means for the drink. I hunt for jobs. I stagger around looking for jobs. I cannot be a writer if I have not gone to school for it. I can not be a musician if I don't drop everything and travel, tour or sellout without having the necessary funding to do so. I am in a position of no return or hope of salvation. I have no money, no time to give to my art and nothing or no one to fallback on for further or future help. If this truly is the age of information then why are we all sitting here like farm animals? I look back at all of the friends that I have and have had. Most of them pampered. Less of them like me and the ones that are in the same position travel on the same boat. I watched their parents give them money for schooling, food and accommodations. Others took out loans. I watched certain parents pay rent for a friend who spent a year sitting in a room smoking pot and downloading music all day as I went out and worked 8 - 10 hour day's to feed and house myself. I know its sinfully envious to regard things in that light but having done everything on my own from the age of 17 has become a rather burdensome path to follow in the era we now call ours. I feel like I cant even wipe my ass before checking my bank account anymore. So how is it done? How does one pull through the muck and grime without demeaning ones intellect, self respect, and dreams? Ignorance is bliss. Success these days has become a rather elusive horse.

The Antipathies at The Arrow and Loon (February 26th 2011)

2011-02-23T12:04:00.000-08:00

Hello to all of you Young and The Restless blog fans out there! I'm sorry I haven't been posting as much as usual lately but I have been rather busy with working on my music. If you are not already aware of this I have been in a band called The Antipathies for a little over a year now and things have been going great. We released an EP about 5 months after starting the band titled BP (The Basement Press) all self recorded and produced by myself and guitar player/beat-boxer Scott Hardy. Although we are a two piece band at the moment we have been turning many heads and playing tons of local Ottawa shows and doing a lot of Open Mic nights. We are currently writing a bunch of new material for what will soon be our first full length album and we are looking for studio's/studio information to get it recorded at(If anyone has any studio suggestions or information leave a comment and I will get back to you personally). We have also been on the hunt for a drummer. We are looking for someone with versatility and style so yet again if you are interested comment and let me know. We do have a show coming up this Saturday February 26th at 99 Fifth Ave off of Bank St. at the Arrow and Loon. There will be no cover so all are welcome just remember it is a pub so you must be 19 or over and don't hesitate to drink and have a good time! I also wanted to mention how grateful I am to everyone who actually takes the time to read The Young and The Restless. I have been reviewing the blog stats every couple of weeks and I am never let down with the amount of views and dedicated people taking the time out of their day to read this blog. I appreciate it more than you know! I have included links to The Antipathies facebook, myspace and grooveshark pages as well as our gmail account. So contact us anytime and don't forget to comment, listen to the tunes, come out to the show if you can, and let us know what you think.

The Antipathies
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Antipathies/12027642804462
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/search?q=The%20Antipathies
http://www.myspace.com/theantipathies
info.antipathies@gmail.com

The Opposing Side of Mind

2011-01-28T09:12:00.000-08:00

You stepped off the sidewalk
with that look on your face
and laid out on the roadside
With no forgiveness of grace
That car rolled upon you
And Sure it laid you dead
I wondered what it would take
to get inside of your head

but I know you wont be left behind
Forgiveness comes from the opposing side of mind

You took a fall from the balcony
and you leapt without a thought
You gave your last 20 for the hotel room
Told the desk clerk that you've got
Things to attend to
and so many people to see
But you smiled down to the very bottom
and went so pleasantly

Well, I know you wont be left behind
Salvation comes from the opposing side of mind

Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds asleep
While you sat awake in the corner
Gazing at the choking rope
you strung tighter and tighter
Drunk on whiskey and old age
Without a lover or a friend
The debt will never find you again
As you hung like a flag in the wind

And I know you wont be left behind
Redemption comes from the opposing side of mind

Sometimes its hard to wake up
Without him inside of your bed
He left you like a lamppost
Standing luminously alone
A hearts a tough thing to mend
Especially when its drowning in your tears
So you went to 13 Vicodin
and faded dreaming of the good years

And I know you wont be left behind
Motivation comes from the opposing side of mind

Stop drooling like a slug
With a needle in your arm
You would think sleeping on a cardboard box
Would send you screaming for the norm
But everyone moves so fast
You got lost inside of the mix
You tried to cry, alone as you overdosed
"But it was just another fix.
It was just another fix."

And I know you wont be left behind
Look on the bright-side
At least you still have the power of mind
To make a choice
and have a chance
To wake up, to dream, and to love
and yeah sometimes these things are out of our hands
Just know that tomorrow forever stands
Strong with opportunity
Strong with new wisdom
That freedom does not come through the end of a pistol
So live the life and realize
This is the only chance you get to be alive

The Ocean

2011-01-24T09:55:00.000-08:00

I was swimming deep under the blue water of the ocean. I was fully clothed and wearing a pair of black jeans, a t-shirt, vest and a scarf that floated freely in the water. I was able to breathe but I was aware I was submerged. As I was swimming further across the sea I had come upon a sunlit, sandy plain and sitting on the ocean flat was a school bus. It had not been there too long and I for some reason had a compelling sense that all of my friends and people that I loved were on the bus waiting for me. As I swam closer and closer I had come to see that the entire school bus was infested by a form of marine sea snakes, squirming and living in its interior. A massive colony. This was not a place I was welcome. I gathered my thoughts and tried to swim away as casually and undistinguished as possible in fear that the snakes might notice me in my escape. I looked back and it appeared as if I was free until one snake started slithering my way. It was completely white with decals of red adorning its sides and face. I assumed it was attracted to the way my scarf was floating in the water and the first thing that came to mind was to remove it and slowly distract the snake as I tried to swim free. Suddenly my back was met by a rock wall. The rock wall was accompanied by a massive staircase made of coral and stone. I could see sunlight at the top of the staircase shining with a hint of sanctuary if I could only get up. The snake was close, in fact it was getting too close for comfort. I tried to push off the steps in order to swim directly upwards rather than taking the staircase to shallow waters but I was bound by a strange form of gravity. The staircase had to be climbed. The snake lunged at my scarf. It knew I was a creature that did not belong. I started crawling backwards up the staircase trying my hardest to avoid the snake until finally it made its move. It shot at my arm sinking its teeth deep into my upper muscle tissue. I grabbed its throat trying to pry its slimy head off of my arm. I knew it had injected some kind of a toxin or poison into my body because I could feel it start coursing through my veins. Its fangs started coming loose the tighter I squeezed and I had pried it off. Still squeezing the snakes throat in fear that it might slip out and make another attack, it fought hard as I tried to climb the stairs with my other arm. I knew the poison was kicking in. I was becoming weaker and weaker and my eyes felt heavier with every motion. The snakes head had turned to stone with every stair I climbed and the rest of its body shortly followed. My breathing slowed down drastically and I felt as if sleep was coming on. I lifted my arm for one last attempt at the climb and then...I woke up.

The In and Outs of Working in a Call Centre: Part 2

2010-11-07T12:27:00.001-08:00

Who knew the fuckers could read! Somehow the bastards managed to find my blog without drooling all over the keyboards. I woke up today after a week/weekend (that would turn any ones blood to stone)to a letter written by an unnameable employee working for Davis and Henderson. It has been over a month since Ive slaved for Davis and Henderson and man can I ever say I'm thrilled about that. Ive been working downtown Ottawa at a new job, Ive had some hardships here and there but realistically these things are to be expected with switching from job to job.
I woke up and got ready to do some laundry. Thought I'd check the mail and see if there was anything worth while in it (usually there is not) when I came across the letter...
"After an 'extensive' investigation we have found that your performance with Davis and Henderson has been completely unacceptable." I pictured a pale white, veiny, old hag, cooped up in an office and dying of lung cancer. Scribbling madly about an extensive investigation that even if one had taken place she would have in no way been part of anyways. She is the letter mule. She who must cough up tar and use it as ink to spread her ego out on paper.
"On many occasions your Team Leader had made an effort to assist you in improvement." This of course MUST have been witnessed first hand because the sheer and utter truth of that statement could bring one to tears.
"We are also in possession of your personal 'blog' in which you admit to lying about an "at work accident" (I am guessing the quotations must have come from my 'personal blog') and taking taxi money from the Company that was to be used to have your 'alleged' hand injury checked at the hospital and then to take you home."
This is where I as a human as opposed to an employee get a little skeptical. First things first: How in the flying Christ did these people get access or ahold of my blog? Clearly either a supposed friend of mine or acquaintance at Davis and Henderson must have sold me out or blabbed their never silenced mouths off to the wrong people. Fucking eerie thought. The second thing that makes me extremely skeptical is the amount of truth that they have enforced upon my blogs story. My blog is FILLED with poetry, opinion pieces, stories of dreams, and anything I feel like jotting down off of the top of my head. Who are they to say that my article is pure truth. Could I not have just fabricated sections of my story to make myself sound a little more rebellious and adventurous? At what point does Art hold one in contempt? Who is to rule an artists perspective of fact over fiction?
The letter mule. Sits in her office, smokes all day, and watches the news. She believes every word she hears and certainly everything she See's. She is distracted. Her eyes are plagued by anything shiny. She drools, slops food in her mouth, and sleeps sitting up. She is the letter mule and she is worse off than I.

Teach Yourself to Dream

2010-10-31T22:07:00.000-07:00

Nothing in this world is easy. This is a lesson that is learned through a constant progression towards some ultimate goal in life that we all call our own. At times it is hardly understandable and I have fallen victim to its fashions on multiple occasions. Whether it be some odd form of bad luck tossed into the barrel or a stubbed toe in the morning these situations will come at you in full force and will take effect at the worst possible times. It is like some form of higher being has decided to split the sky open to peer down on you, poking you with a celestial finger, prying you into different paths like a kid kicking around an ant on a sidewalk. Sometimes they will come on strong and for extended periods of time.

You wake up in the morning for work. News from the night before had dragged you down into a deep dark visceral state of mind and nothing about the day feels good. You take a shower hoping that things may look up as you repeat in your head every situation possible that could go wrong or right during the day. You imagine different possible conversations you will be having throughout your work day with the people you must see and the people you know you want to avoid. You may not even want to speak at all. You stare at your bed as if it were subliminally forcing you to jump back in. It laughs at you. Now the work day is the only vice calling out your name aside from the time on the clock of course. You know the bus ride like the taste of stale coffee. It will take a maximum of 30 minutes if you are lucky. Work begins at 8:00am and the clock read 7:35am... The forces keep pushing.

All bundled in a scarf, hat, and coat to bare the harshness of the winter outside you leave your apartment or home to wait for the bus and of course, it comes 5 minutes late. Destiny has run its course on you. You know you are late for work. On the bus you think of nothing but escaping, running to somewhere far from all of this routine. The flames that have been riding your back for the past few days have almost become noticeable to the public eye and finally you show up to work.

Your day has been sized up. 2 breaks, 1 Lunch, and a couple of periods with nothing to do in between work. Your friends or acquaintances positioned all around you but not even they can help you today. They know your having a bad day. You have decided to plaster it all over your face. A form of self defence shield against anything else that may go wrong during the process of the day. They know it and so do you.

One approaches you. He is one of your best friends and you have known him for a long period of time. This man has seen you through thick and thin, at your worst and greatest. He approaches you with a smile, does not even ask you what is wrong, and because of this you already feel a bit better. Now the rest of your day runs smooth and uninterrupted. You finish the day of work, bus back home and fall asleep knowing that the next day couldn't be near as bad as the last. You shut your eyes and dream.

Its the act of peering over the fence that we all need to partake in little bit more or maybe just forgetting about the fence altogether. You may be having a bad day or it may have been a complete disaster but who really wants to spend life moping around every day? Negativity is a product of the mind. The grass is always greener on the other side and roses always feel brighter after a rainfall. Remember there is always something to spread a smile over.

The Ins and Outs of Working in a Call Center

2010-09-21T01:15:00.000-07:00

I sat on the can and lit a cigarette at 11:00pm. It had been a long day. A day of transition. I had been working for a company called Davis and Henderson in the Bells Corners region of Ottawa west for the last year and a half. I thought about the first day I had started working for the company. Back then it had used to be called Resolve. A massive call center compared to anything my past had known. I never really thought I would be working there as long as I did but the day I started was a different time. It was sometime around the beginning of August 2009. I was living with two friends in a residential college area known to the locals of Ottawa as Deerfield. It was a dumpy little place but we didn't pay much for rent. I had not had a job for far too long. I had no money for food, or liquor, or anything really and my roommates were certainly bringing it down upon my head. I payed rent and what I could scrounge up for food contribution. Finally I followed my buddy Shamus into Resolve for an interview. I was hired practically that day and I felt like a king. I thought the place would be able to offer me something other than just pay and job security. I was looking to move up. I wanted to make enough money to be able to live comfortably while giving me just enough time to work on my music and my writing.
One thing I have never really come to terms with learning is that a dream is seldom granted to those who seek it. I am stubborn that way. This is something the youth of the 2000's may have to understand sooner than they think but I got the job and Shamus got the job. I walked around for the rest of the year with stars in my eyes. It wasn't until Shamus had quit and about 6 months into the shit that I had finally begun to realize I was being leashed and whipped. I worked my ass off for the company receiving foolish laminated rewards for customer commendations and getting perfect quality scores on every call that I took. For about 3 - 4 months I was even a designated floor supervisor until the emotional strife ensued. I worked under a woman who was my supervisor and for the sake of not revealing to much of her identity Ill label her as Tammy. Tammy was a short, in your face, blond who took her call center supervisor career more seriously than anyone would contemplate finding a million dollars sitting on the ground on their way home. Tammy was a cold hearted, astro cunt. She had it in for Shamus and I since the moment we were hired (she was also in the same "training" class as us). Shamus and I used to write songs and play guitar on our breaks until Tammy had decided that one day she would speak to an Ops manager about our music playing during breaks and lunch deeming it an "Inappropriate workplace activity" and this greatly concerned that cold ice chunk floating in her chest.
To get back onto topic here... The six months of working with this woman had turned me completely sideways. She had tried the entire 3-4 months that I was actually working as a floor supervisor to get me pulled off at any chance she could get and finally succeeded in doing so during the 4Th. I spoke to her boss about the situation. He was a man that was so nervous at the sheer thought of any kind of confrontation that he would have to let out a giggle at the end of every sentence he spoke. He tried his hardest to be friends with every one of his employee's and this included pleasing the likes of Tammy to solidify what he thought was a "Stable work environment."
I was relieved of being able to supervise the floor even if that meant giving the position to someone who knew less than half of what I did about the programs and resolutions. If they were going to fuck me like that I sure as hell wasn't about to take it like a bitch. I started slacking off. My quality scores dropped, I tore down my awards and I certainly did not give a fuck. They tried to use the Floor Supervisor role as an incentive for me trying to do better.
"Now Jaden." They would say.
"If you bring up those quality scores and start showing more initiative then maybe you can supervise the floor again."
Well I did it... After coming close to failing over 10 quality tests I fell for it. I still had a minute amount of hope deep down somewhere that maybe these people would actually let me advance if I tried a little bit harder.
My scores got better. My attitude changed and 3 months had passed since I had been able to supervise the floor. I had aced all of my quality tests, even winning a $50.00 cash prize for scoring the highest. At this point I figured I would be more than capable of getting back my old position and maybe a little happiness back into my working life after all this was not what I loved to do, this is what I had to do in order to survive and work at my true worldly passions. I spoke to Tammy's boss again.
"So it's been about 3 months now and Ive done literally everything you have asked me to do. Is there anyway I could work the floor again?" I asked as reassuringly as possible.
"Well Jaden." Here we go.
"You see, Its your adherence that is really the problem. Maybe if you just work really hard and try not to take any sick days for the next few months we could possibly consider it."
Fuck that! I had nothing left to give. They had lost my respect, my commitment, and the rest of the care they had managed to suck out of my dry sack of bones. I was done. A year and a half down the drain for a company that cared so little about their employees and thought so highly of their half wit Supervisor that I felt like coughing up blood just looking at the building from the outside and this was a horrible thing for everyone. They lost an employee who would have been more than happy to work there for years and I needed a source of income to pay rent, feed myself, and bay the bills. They were still fucking me dead.
A couple months had passed. I moved into an apartment on Pinecrest with a good friend and I basically "fucked the dog" at work, as an old coworker always used to say. In fact over the last 3 weeks I spent with the company I was having such drastic technical errors that I was unable even to login to a single system to merely do my job. It was completely and utterly their fault. As much as you think going to work and sitting around for 8 hours a day twiddling your thumbs and staring at walls for 3 weeks would be perfect, it was far from it. The days passed like years and the entire time I was there I was getting ridiculed and shot dirty looks from other Supervisors on the floor because they were to egotistical to admit that there could be a possible system malfunction going on. The best part about it was that I was not the only one this was happening to. In fact there were 2 other agents experiencing the exact same problem that I was having and I was still getting the stink eye, all 3 of us were. We were treated as the scum of the Earth by the people who were getting payed to help us but who would listen? Nobody. They were our bosses. Upper Management. We were nothing but Customer Service Agents and apparently that meant that we were completely disposable.
To sum things up about the job. I had lost my shit for lack of better words. I went in and was demeaned to the point of pure frustration. Tammy had decided to drive me over the edge with her "I'm better than you" bullshit and I walked out to the back, hauled off and punched a dumpster. My hand swelled up. I went back inside and took a seat beside a couple of friends from work as a lady from the Human Resources department walked by.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed.
"What happened to your hand?" She was oddly concerned. Not something I was used to experiencing in that place.
"I.. Uh... I hurt it..." I had no idea what to say.
Thankfully my buddy who had been sitting beside me had some sharp wit on his shoulders.
"He tripped outside." He filled her in.
"And he fell into the wall."
Fucking lifesaver!
"Oh no. Come with me immediately."
The woman rushed me off to a back room where she gave me ice for my hand, filled out an injury report form, sent me home with a day of pay, and gave me cab fare to get to the hospital and then back home. She put me in the cab and let the driver know that I would need to be taken to the Queensway Carleton Hospital and have my hand looked at pronto. The cabbie agreed and took off right away.
"Now listen man, I'm going to level with you here..." I said to the cab driver.
"If you can just take me to the LCBO and then back to my place you can keep all the money here."
"But don't you want to go to the hospital for your hand?" The cab driver looked confused.
"I just need a six pack of beer and my apartment and everything will be great." I assured him.
"Ha ha! You are a funny man." His laugh was a cry of victory in my ears.
I had won. Do not fuck with Jaden. In fact that very weekend my sister let me know there was a Supervisor/Interviewer position that had just opened up in the call center she works for Downtown Ottawa and to send my resume into her friend who would be doing the hiring. I sent it in the next day which brings us to now...
I sat on the can and lit up a cigarette at 11:00pm. It had been a long day. I did not go to work and received a call requesting an interview at a call center Downtown Ottawa for the position of an Interviewer. I explained to the man named Ryan (whom I had apparently met before at a party) all of the experience I had pertaining to Call Center work and Floor Supervising. Ryan was ecstatic. I took a drag of my smoke and stared down at a small putting green a friend of mine had given to me as a house warming gift that was wrapped around the bottom of my toilet. Fingernails, dust, lint and pieces of fluff and string had gathered themselves on top of it. Looking back entirely on the situations I had been through over the last few years and the similarities the carpet was sharing with them, I had to laugh a bit, out loud.

Geek on the Bus

2010-08-27T13:23:00.001-07:00

Purple colared shirt
Freshly Ironed Pants
Big bright smile with dimples etched into his cheeks
His eyes were catching a gleam off of the sun
He was sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper,
and waiting to catch the bus.
He was no older then 19
and looked as if his mother had dressed him every morning,
packed his lunch and kissed him on the forehead on his way out.
(Which I am sure she did)
When we got onto the bus the scene was dire
It was early
Tired eyes, heads down, caffiene in hands
He stepped onto the bus before me.
The scene did not effect him
He saw nothing unnatural or strange

Immediatley he chose out of the crowd a fellow aquintance
She was young
No older than 19
Thick framed black glasses
Long silky black hair
White colared shirt
She was matching
She smiled big and white
A smile that must have made her mother proud.
It made me a little bit sick
Watching these two
But I could not look away or avoid listening in on
the awkward issues they cared about discussing
They spoke of schools
Colleges/Universities in other cities
The loans they would be taking out
The money they would be spending
What they would be learning
They were not concerened about where the money would come from by any means
(Most certainley from thier parents)
but they were concerned about what they should take
in the semesters and seasons ahead
Business Class
Economics
Management courses
What thier futures would entail by doing so

In between giggles and polite exchange
He would look out the window with pure anticipation
Excitement
Joy
Oppurtunity
She looked down at her text books
Blushing
Not because she loved this boy
because she felt like she was going to become something
Not at that particular moment of course
but sometime this century
He had never fucked her
Neither of them had ever fucked at all
and you could see
(If you really tried)
this jittery fuck tension shaking in thier bones
He just hid it very well under his skin
and besides,
He had his entire life to think about

Enjoy the inexperience now you little geek on the bus
They ll get to even you soon enough
One day you will be looked down upon with pity
and when you stare out of the bus window at the sun
You will feel it burn
You will feel the pain of every living creature around you
because then you will understand
Finally
What the world has become
Not a launch pad of oppurtunity
but a bowel of fear
Ill see you at the end of the bar
in 5 years
Wearing your smile

Graveyard Shifts

2010-08-23T15:29:00.000-07:00

6:30 a.m
Must pry eyes open
Must forget the world of dreams
To carry on with the day

Brain now screams for another vessel
Arms and legs still sleep away
I am here in body but not in spirit
To work alone
The graveyard shifts

11:30 a.m
Clumsy now
Fast retreat
Burn my eyes
The cigarettes weep
1st break at work
1st sign of peace
Saturate the temple
In tears of heat
Flooding down into the streets
Where my heart would be
If it hadnt rotted green
Where I could have been serene with women, booze and freedom

2:00 p.m
Lunch has come to an end
Much like the pleasure of being full bellied
Satisfied and Sociable
I have become rarely sociable
Buried in words
Most of which are not good to speak
Usually are not very coture to hear
They taint my tongue
Stain my mouth
and coat my teeth
In bacteria.

"Rebecca Dickens you are a cocksucker
An immaculate consumer whore
You ruin my world you maggot worm
Stop digging tunnels in my cheeks."

3:33 p.m
Get me out of this hell!
My shoes are wet and my throat is numb
Repitition has
Fucked the world dead and dry
I can only hold such a fake facade for so long
I do not want to be nice to you
Or help you in anyway
Or thank you for your time
Your business
Or your slave money
My dick will never stand up again
and it laughs at me for doing this to myself
While I fuck the world dead and dry

5:30 p.m
Is there really anything left to say about
5:30 p.m?
Labotomized
Almost there
Ass end up, Waving high in the air
If I could only take this down
Without coughing myself stupid
Tearing my inards up for blood
Something human
and crimson
Beautiful colour to see at 5:30 p.m
especially when it's spewed on the screen
It makes me smile to see that at least
there is still some form of rebellion in my pain
Fuel in my hatred
Energy in this maddness

7:30 p.m
No more customers
No more liars
No more fuckers
Masochists
Sadists
Machinists
Wage slaves
Soldiers
Losers
Downers
and down right cunts
I am free of the shackles of time control
Finally get to crawl into the pub
Maybe sit down at home with a jug or 2 of wine
Whiskey, Beer, or anything releaving
Or so I choose to believe for the next 6 - 7 hours
Would you look at that
Already counting
Counting down to doomsday
Remorse
More regret
Another drink or drinks
Another day of piss

Stinking... Warm... Piss

Flies

2010-07-14T10:05:00.001-07:00

My eyes opened themselves this morning
They scanned the entire room
moving back and forth in a sickening motion
Cheking out the scene
Clothes scattered on the floor
beside empty beer bottles and lighters
I felt as if existence had been stalking me
My luck has not been good lately
In fact it has been terrible
Grabbed a coffee at a convenience store on the corner
with a side of cigarettes
Sat on my balcony and choked down the entire pack
The coffee was as mediocre as the moment but
A fly landed on my cup and then
Perched itself on my hand
I took it as some slight metaphor for the way people
Have chosen to tread on thier life paths
Content with scavenging or stealing
scowering and ravaging
Self propelled
The 'ME' generation

Irritated I swatted it away but
It kept coming back for more
Greedy mother fucker
Sucking the sugar from my skin
Rubbing its feelers together
Bathing in my ideals
Reminding me of my hatred for mankind
Something I had realized at a very young age

I do not accept thier compliments
I do not accept thier lifestyles
I do not like thier smells
or thier pitty struck faces
The way they talk, walk, and
The things they care about
I push them as far away as I can
Much like the fly swimming in my coffee
Rebirth of the maggot kingdom
Napalmed confrontations
My tongue turned to stone during
instances of communication
Amongst Friends, foes, family members, and cocksuckers,
With anyone.

Hangovers
Headaches
Cigarettes
No taste
Bad luck
Bad weeks
Shady deal
Back to sleep...

Reefer Rd. Chapter 2: Pt 5

2010-04-15T16:02:00.000-07:00

Reggae is a wonderful thing. A form of music based around happiness and bred to spread the peace of people all over the world. If religion was truly something to admire and indulge in I think listening to reggae should have temples built in honour of its very name. Dylan Murray, a Canadian artist from the Toronto area was playing at Algonquin College, which was about a 5 – 6 minute walk from the apartment building. His performance took place during the mid afternoon at about 1:00 p.m. and was included a-long side a free BBQ lunch. What more could we have asked for our second day just moving to Ottawa? We were still quite hung-over from the night before but I remember waking up to Dylan standing on the balcony stricken with a new found sense of pride. I liked it. He looked at me with a solid grin. We had felt as if the world had become ours for the taking and the first thing on our minds was a pipe, marijuana, beer, a free lunch, and a solid afternoon of Dylan Murray. Dylan had once again jump onto his phone contacting Jess and Maggie almost immediately. I had decided to hop onto Dylan’s computer to have Laura come meet us there as well.

The infatuation had begun. That feeling like there would be no one else in the world you would rather spend your day with than her. The one you had already dreamt of the night before. The only issue was the easily identifiable question... Was I already moving too fast? What actually interested me about this human being other then direct attraction? Who was I to judge really? I was young, always moving on a whim. I had let my instincts take hold instead of my mind so Laura had met us that day and we were ready to go. I was dazzled and overcome with a wild sense of self gratification. I had conquered a massive portion of my life. Was I finally becoming a man? I certainly hadn’t felt like one before that moment in time. I remember for a brief moment contemplating what my parents might had thought of what I was doing right then. I was severely hung-over, pretty ragged, not to mention stoned, and already getting ready for round 2.

We all had those thoughts in the back of our heads as we watched Dylan Murray belt out his inner sorrows a top a green, rolling hill. He was playing in the middle of one of the Algonquin court yards. The sun was shining down on us like we were all supposed to be there, like this was our moment of golden reign over the earth. As the typical college students played volleyball and tossed Frisbees and footballs around we all had one other thing riding our thoughts. That night was Tom's arrival to the new apartment. That night would forever be an unforgettable celebration...

Reefer Road Pt.4

2010-04-08T18:19:00.000-07:00

My first real taste for liquor came when I was about 14 years old. I was living in an extremely small town with my mother. The town was named Iroquois after the tribe of Indians who had settled the land many, many years ago. I had lived there for about 4 years when I was younger. It had mainly become a retirement town for old people to die in peace while the youngsters spent all of their time trying to find some way of stirring the pot. In fact the very first time I smoked a joint was in a town just outside of Iroquois with a couple old friends of mine. I never really cared for trying drugs. I was a skateboarder back then and the only time I ever had to dedicate went to throwing my body down flights of stairs and over concrete barriers. Then the day came... I figured why not? It had never harmed any of my friends before and frankly I thought they were always a lot more productive and humorous when they were stoned. They rolled a joint on a fun box outside of my friend’s house.
“I think I’m going to smoke that with you guys.” I replied hesitantly.
“NO WAY! Jaden’s going to smoke weed!” They all chuckled and remarked to themselves. They were way to overly excited about this and frankly it really did not help with my wanting to progress into the circle with them but I thought to myself you only live once right? I had not a clue what the substance was about by any means and I was a little bit nervous. The lighter was flicked. I watched my friends around me all with smiles slapped on their faces. It felt like some sort of initiation into a world I had never known. The joint was passed to the left. My other friend coughed his lungs out making me seize up a little bit more before it was handed to me. I stared at the joint between my finger tips. This was it. I was getting high for the first time in my life. Questions were soaring through my mind. What was going to happen to me? Was I going to hallucinate? Would I overdose? What was this plant going to do to my head? I took a small drag and blew it out quick.
“No man! Take a nice big hit and hold it in or it won’t do anything.” One of my friends instructed.
I put the joint to my mouth. Hauled in as much smoke as my lungs could hold and I held it in. I burst into a fit of coughing but I remember how warm the smoke had felt in my chest. I looked back up at all of my friends who were then patting me on the back and all extremely satisfied of what I had done and then the marijuana took hold. My body was tingling all over. I was seeing the world in a light unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was magic. I was part of something bigger than anything I had ever hoped to believe. The planet had taken hold of my mind and showed me the true nature of itself and myself. I was one with the earth. I had begun to start thinking outside of the box...
I was skateboarding outside one summer day at one of the elementary schools located in the middle of Iroquois. My friend Ryan Smith was with me and we had decided to go back to his place to grab a bite to eat and something to cure the pounding heat outside. We went through his cabinets searching for anything we could find when suddenly Ryan had stumbled upon the liquor cabinet. I had drunk booze before. A few sips of Kaluha here and there but nothing drastic. I was young and these things had never intrigued me before but after my first experience with a new substance I was definitely up for another adventure. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, then a bottle of vodka, and then another bottle of rye. We drank until we felt as if we were going to vomit. Feeling completely "badass" and rebellious we decided to go back to the school and finish of our skate session. This was before the liquor had begun to fill our bodies. The earth started shaking and my vision blurred as we pushed our way to the school but the entire time I had found a new found strength in what I was doing. Nothing was bringing me down! The rest of the day was a complete haze. I do remember Ryan’s mother pulling up in the parking lot of the school ready to ring our necks for what we had done. This quickly passed. From that day on I had always had some deep seeded love for drinking. As I have matured so has my need for the drink but in any other case Laura would now be ready for conversation...Alone.
We were sitting on the floor of my new bedroom. I remember being more lost in her conversation then the fact that I had found myself in a ridiculously brand new situation. I couldn’t help but look around my room and most of the talk was based around the new apartment until the verbal courage started to spew. She had told me something about having somewhat of a crush on me, meeting Tom and I at a party Brendy had thrown sometime in the previous year. This was my shot! I remember my tongue spitting out something along the lines of how gorgeous she was and realistically that sealed the deal. Next thing I know I was staring at the ceiling making out with the most attractive girl I had seen in a very long time...

Reefer Road Pt.3

2010-04-08T16:50:00.000-07:00

The words “House Warming Party!” were the only things entering our minds. We may not have had everything moved in fully yet but we sure as hell owned the place and we were certainly going to break it in!
One sporadic day while I was visiting my mother out in the country, I had come across a marvellous little wonder that had decided to catch my eye. There on the front lawn of her old, stone home sat a small Mayan warrior statue peeking its head out of the grass. I picked him up from the ground. He was mystically carved. His sword had been broken off and his clay body covered in mud. I immediately asked my mother who this statue had belonged to.
“That’s the landlord’s Jaden. You’re standing in his yard.” My mother had pulled me back down to Earth.
This Mayan warrior would no longer be in the “landlord’s” company. The Mayan warrior was now a piece of my soul.
“I’m taking him. I don’t care what you say.” I replied and nothing had ever been spoken ever since. He was mine.
I had un-wrapped the clay warrior from his newspaper shelter and brought him into the living room of the new apartment where I sat him on the couches end table and stuck a stick of incense in his mouth. Dylan stared at me with a fresh joint sparked in his mouth... This was home.

Dylan immediately got on his phone after a solid balcony session and called a bunch of our mutual friends over for drinks. I remember that night as well as I ever will but keep in mind this is where things begin to get a little hazy. The previous year Dylan and Tom had committed themselves to a couple of programs at Algonquin College. Dylan (rather obviously) was taking photography and was now in his second year. Thomas was taking electrical engineering but had a falling out about half way through the year. The course was not for him. They had lived in Algonquin Residence during the year. I was there at every opportunity I possibly could have taken in between my return to high school for a semester and work. Algonquin Residence has become a Nazi recruitment camp ever since but when we were there the place was set ablaze with frenzy. Booze, drugs, metal and all the fun we could throw ourselves toward. This however was the catalyst life choice that had brought us together with so many of our closest Ottawa friends today the Barhavener’s, Maggie, Jessica and Sam. The Barhavener`s consisted of many great people. Andrew Cottingham, Brendy Rygus, Ryan Lafrenier, Steph H, Rebecca Leach, and the list goes on. Most of these friends came out of the photography program at Algonquin including Maggie and Jessica. Jessica was the happiest person I had ever come across complete with dread locks and a thunderous laugh like no other. Maggie had become very fond of Dylan over the growing years and Dylan of Maggie.
The responses came quick. Everyone was eager to get to Baseline and party in our new found apartment and one by one, sure enough the heads rolled in. There were new faces amidst the crowd. One in particular I will never forget. She was beautiful and glowing. Her name was Laura. Before I delve into this story I feel obligated to relay a little insight of the perpetual relations I tend to have with women.
I have been known to be unkind and un-fair in many circumstances mainly because I am a very self oriented human being. I am an extremely self driven person when it comes to matters of human relationships and most of the time I do not fare well because of this. I am one to pursue, indulge, love and when things go awry (as most relationships with girls usually tend to do) rarely ever retain. I have become extremely comfortable with who I am and confidence is something I dispose in vast quantities. So having relayed this information... Her name was Laura.
The party was booming and the drinks were flying but I had one thing on my mind...Discovery. I had finally found myself in a new place amidst new people and I was all for forming new bonds. I sent some subtle eye gestures her way and had begun to start making some small conversation. The progression happened fast. Alcohol will bring out a lion in anybody. “Liquid courage” as my dad had always said. My friends and I had never been stranger’s to alcohol.

Reefer Road Pt.2

2010-04-08T14:57:00.000-07:00

They had found a three bedroom apartment in Ottawa and were looking for a roommate. All I had been doing with my life while living at home was working, reading, writing and of course smoking quite a bit of pot in between coming home from the night shifts. I was working at a place called Nucomm which would be better known as a low grade call center located in the far west end of Brockville. Brockville is about a 10 – 15 minute drive west of Prescott. My father would drive me to work by day and my friend and co-worker Amanda would drive me home by night. I mainly worked the late shifts starting around 3 and ending most of the time around midnight. My routine at night had usually consisted of smoking weed with Amanda on the way home and then smoking a little bit more when I got home so I could be high minded and ready for a sound read. In fact one night I remember having a small zip lock bag full of psilocybin sitting in my room, so when I got home from my shift around midnight I lit some incense, got out all of my drawing pencils, pens, papers and books and went to town. I remember walking around my room a lot, examining the walls and writing frantic poetry in hopes that my parents wouldn’t walk into my bedroom to find me laying on the floor with a joint in my mouth and pupils the size of the moon. Naturally with my unsettled quest for sanctity I agreed with the motions but found them to be to tiresome and overdone. I was bound for things outside of my little world and moving was the stepping stone I needed to find out just what those new found adventures might be. In no way did I ever expect the path that had laid itself ahead of me.
We said our goodbyes to our families and friends and the old sheltered lives we had all been living in and packed up our belongings. We moved in to 1800 by the end of the summer when things were as beautiful as they come. The apartment was a dream, come true for us. We were situated on the 4th floor but the building was odd in this respect. Each individual apartment went as follows... After opening the door you were approached by either a set of stairs leading upward into the apartment or downwards. The sequence being that one apartment would be directing upstairs the next one directing down so each floor was technically two floors at the same time. All in all, when I say we were located on the 4th floor we were actually situated on the 7th due to the fact that our apartment had lead downstairs. We had three bedrooms, a big living room/dining room, and a tiny, little kitchen. The floors were made of hardwood leading into carpet in the bedroom area that divided itself from the living room with a single door. The balcony however was what held all of my love for our old apartment. The view was incredible, overlooking all of the Deerfield area as well as most of the outskirts of Nepean. The apartment was pristine and every single 18 year olds dream pad.
Moving day had proven itself to be quite the situation. Dylan’s mother Mary had decided to bestow upon us her entire living room set which included a massive, comfy, black leather couch and chair, a wooden coffee table, and an end table in lieu of her buying a brand new set for her living room at home. Everything else we had moved in was easily transported and manoeuvred except for this gigantic leather couch. We struggled hard, shifting it around in the elevator trying to fit the monster into the tiny steel box. After squishing it sloppily into the 4 man elevator the real dilemma had only just begun. The couch in no way, shape, or form was going to fit through our doorway. We had tried everything and by god this baby would not budge and butter was not going to solve this problem. Not giving in, we had all conjured up an idea.... We literally had decided to completely remove the front door and parade the couch violently through the doorway and down the flight of stairs into the apartment... Triumph! We could rest easy on that note but resting easy was not in neither Dylan nor my vocabulary that first summer night.
Tom had to head back towards Brockville for the night due to the fact that he had still another full load of stuff to bring up the next morning so it was Dylan and I for the first night. I remember what my bedroom had looked like that first night. I was sleeping on two fold out cushions because of the fact that there was absolutely no room to fit my bed in Tom’s parents’ truck and my dad was driving a newer model red, family Intrepid which had done its job fitting all of the smaller items I needed to take. I had one black dresser, a few posters from my old bedroom at home, a blue Ikea reading chair and a small T.V. that I never to this day recall using. After situating all of the furniture we had moved in, stacking all of the food in the cupboards, and rearranging our bedrooms, we were more than ready for a night of drunken debauchery weather Tom be there that night or not!

We had done it! Freedom alas!

Reefer Road Pt.1

2010-04-07T18:16:00.000-07:00

All good things must come to an end...One might say that this saying has narrowed itself into my life over the last short period of time. I had been living on the outskirts of Algonquin College in the west end of Ottawa (otherwise known as Nepean) in a somewhat mediocre and under developed apartment building – 1800 Baseline Rd to be precise from 2008 - 2010. Located beside such areas as College Square and slap – dab in the middle of Bells Corners and Downtown Ottawa. The location had never generally bothered me (personally I was a fan of West End Ottawa). Baseline Station (a bus station of which any area in Ottawa is practically reached by) is close to 1800 as well as a grocery store, fast food places including Mcdonalds, Pizza Pizza, and Subway, Rogers for all of your gaming, and movie needs, and on top of that the coveted LCBO and Beer Store were located no more than a 7 minute walk from my old apartment. A person might ask themselves; why would a young adult no more than 20 years of age want to leave an area so suited towards his own needs? Well... In light of certain events I had been driven to ask myself that exact question.
It was the end of August in 2008 when I was approached by two of my best friends Dylan Leeder and Thomas Slack. Tom and I had been great friends since the moment we shared our first conversation. The man was driven by fun and loved nothing more than to just sit down and pour his entire minds technicality into writing guitar...Oh yes and if I forgot to mention before, Tom is a party fiend (as most of my friends generally are). My friendship with Tom really grew when I decided to try out for the lead vocalist position in a previous metal band he was in called Hide Yourself Away, Generally known in the Brockille and surrounding area’s music scene as a very solid group. When they had decided that I was the right choice for the band after their old vocalist (and now great friend of mine as well) Justin Amyotte had decided to disband, it has been musical progression ever since... (Mind you the band may have gone through a few musical differences, name changes and complications but the real dedicated members have chosen to fight on). Great personalities mesh together well and Tom and I had made a great pair.
Dylan, on the other hand has been like an expansive rollercoaster. After getting over that initial fear at the beginning while waiting in line you may not be quite sure about the rickety ride. It had many stomach turners in the middle but once you felt out the track and got to understand it’s mechanics you wish you could have built a house beside the coaster so that you could experience it every day. Dylan is a professional photographer and I say this because I firmly believe that he of all people will be making heads turn in the world of professional photography. This man has a style all of his own and has had nothing but dedication for the art since the day he was born. The term Brother is the only word that could possibly come to mind while trying to describe Dylan and in words taken right from Dylan’s mouth “We are so cool!” The amount of fun I have had with this human being cannot be measured at any length. It will never stop and I never intend it too. True, Death Bros.
I was living with my parents beforehand in a no where town called Prescott, Ontario. When I say “No Where Town” I mean this in the truest sense of the words. When I was younger Prescott was my world. There were a maximum of 9 – 10 stores, 4 schools, (1 high school and 3 elementary) 1 bar, and low and behold, about 5 – 6 separate churches. Growing up in this place was, for lack of better words... Odd. Strangely enough I always felt like a very segregated person there. I remember going skateboarding with my brother one summer afternoon finding ourselves in the midst of a bullied frenzy. Four little rat kids had surrounded my brother and myself and had decided to start pushing him around for his skateboard eventually taking it out of his hands and claiming it as their own. My past experiences had told me never to stand down to such mockery and when a member of my family was dragged into the mix there was nothing left to do but rebut.
“Give him back his skateboard right now!” I had decided to step in.
“What are you going to do about it, fag!” This cretin must have stepped into a book or two judging by his sharp retort ion tactics.
“Fuck off kid! Give him back his skate!”
“Fine!” Now I was getting somewhere. “I’ll give his back if you give me yours!” and the scholar had turned into a young entrepreneur.
“Alright... Whatever! Just give him back his board and we’ll call it even.” I felt as if there was no other civil way out of the onslaught.
The kid gallantly handed my brother back his skateboard and as for my end of the bargain well as hard as it may be, my word was my word. As I handed out my skateboard to the chubby little dwarf all of the showmanship had began. In an attempt to impress his slack jawed minions the kid lunged at my stomach instead of grabbing my skateboard. Now, a side note to anyone who has ever been in a brawl as a child, lunging is not the way to start things off. As he tried to latch on to my waist my first immediate reaction was to hammer down with my elbow as hard as I could on his spine. This surely did not come as a very pleasant surprise to my foe. He arched his back up and cried in pain and as he attempted to dance around in a dash towards his friend I had decided to drive the nose of my skateboard into his stomach completely immobilizing him from doing harm to my brother or myself again. Our reaction... Let’s get the fuck out of here!
Collisions like these were not a rarity in our little town. There weren’t a lot of overly wealthy families in Prescott and mine was no different. Although we were humble about our finances, we got by with what we had. This lack of grandeur did have a catalyst effect on the members of my family forcing us to do things like adventuring outside to find an old fort, or playing guns at the old abandoned factory across the street. As I grew with the town I found myself retreating more and more into music, books, art, and the wonders of the world. Although beautiful in appearance, Prescott had some very diminishing life lessons on the folk living inside of it. I had then turned the age of 18 and of course I wanted nothing more at the time than to leave the restraints of my parents, quit my good for nothing call center job and start experiencing the real life, a life where freedom of self identity was never questioned or forced onto you. Get a job, go to bed, get a life, mow the lawn, do your work, cut your hair, don’t do drugs, you’re too young to drink, no friends allowed in the house, and the list tumbles on for what feels like an eternity. Basically I felt like there was a massive lack of self identity in my life and I was out to shatter that dome. I wanted to be me on my own and this is precisely what Tom and Dylan had wanted to do.

The Open Road

2010-02-02T13:50:00.001-08:00

The sun felt like fire as it bounced off my face
There was a roar from an engine that could have ripped up the highway
My eyes were a' wandering as the road kept on turning
I felt like a halo that had bent itself sideways
The wind in the tree's had projected many colors
I thought about the days and how they are just other numbers
Why does freedom only comes to the ones who seek it?
And why do we penolize all of the ones who try to think it?
As the tires rolled on with the beat of the pavement
I fell in love with the shape of the world
We never really had any set destination
But do the cars outside of which we were racing?
Where do they go and where do they come from?
A question outside without any asking
Lets drive on down to the bed of the ocean
and jump and run and swim for our lives
Float on out to the deep blue middle
Pretend that way forever and never start sinking
Or drive to the desert where the sand fuels its content
Slide down the dunes that have shaped out a warning
For the creatures inside and the problems alone
Stand on their tips like a foot of a mountain
Stare into the skies at complete empty nothingness
A feeling of weightlessness without any placement
But our tongues are all tied to the steps of our homes
Our hands held back at the mouth of the alter
Our feet all bound to the nails of a coffin
Our children retreat in the length of our graveyards
Our mouths havent been speaking and our eyes are held closed
Our insight has fallen on the sidewalks of the city
With our poets and cigarettes and lovers and theives
So Im leaving today without any sorrow
and showing my friends the planet we have owned
So they can open their eyes and fill up their bodies
To stare at the sun with a feeling unknown
To feel out the planet and find some potential
Jump off the stairways and hit the open road

Lately we had a solid little jam down in the belly of the beast in Hull, Quebec. This is some of the footage...Enjoy!