A promise holds only as much power as it is given.

Like a promise, I put a piece of coal in your hand and tell you, "If you squeeze it hard enuff and hold it long enuff, it will become a diamond".

In my life, Ive made promises that were not mine to make.  So, I could not keep them.  I told lies to keep from breaking these promises.  "Until death do us part.  Beyond everything and no matter what."  Promises made to inspire comfort, security and freedom became tyranical dictatorships over my future.

Spiritual unrest and civil revolution of my soul proceeded to march down the main streets of my heart and gathered to protest in the square of my memory, waving flags of guilt and shame.  With my ego on a megafone as the grand marshall of the parade, I was cornered and forced to account for these broken promises I made to myself.

As an emotional riot raged within, every aspect of my character gathered to throw broken promises back into my face.  Ignoring all requests to negotiate, my self-worth leaned into me until I was on my knees.  All of my mixed emotions mobbed against me and all of my broken promises bared down on me.  I had made promises under the title of every character within me and accountability had become a demand from all sides.

With no place left to hide, there was no point to try and escape, anymore.  The gang of broken promises had chased me down and beaten me into submission.  I had surrendered, curled up into a ball on the ground, when all of a sudden, The Truth arrived.  Silence fell apon the crowd and it parted as The Truth walked through it, headed in a straight line for me.  Once standing over me, protecting me, The Truth reached out her hand and lifted me up.

The Truth is without imperfection, infinite and divine.  Promises are made by man, suseptable to failure and flawed in design.  The Truth will set you free.  A promise will only bind you.  I choose to walk with The Truth and ignore any promise that cares to show its ugly face anywhere near my life ever again.  Promises are nothing more than Truth wannabe's.  While I hold close to The Truth, I may never be fooled by another promise... my own or anyone else's.

Pieces of Promises

A week until my birthday 2012.  Usually, January26th comes and goes just like any other day.  If I keep quite about it, Im able to just slip right through.  No fuss.  No mess.  No excuse.  Perfect.  This maybe why I can never remember how old I am.  But, this year's birth marker of mine holds quite abit of personal signifigance to me.

I returned to Canada 6months ago, now.  As I was trying to salvage the remains of myself from a broken disaster of a 2yr relationship, I was forced to look into my future and lay checkpoints for an entirely new direction.  The woman I had intended to marry had nurtured a seed of passion for her boss until it grew and choked the life from the garden we (her and I) were growing.  Before I turned into a pile of compost, she put me on a plane and sent me home.  

Last year, my birthday was celebrated by/with "friends" @ The Mambo Cafe in El Ciudad de Mexico, Distrito Federal.  Although questions were sprouting, at that point in time, I could not have known that I would never have another birthday @ The Mambo Cafe.  Having said that, I am thankful that I may never have to experience another evening of mambo.

Suspissions continued to grow through the months following my last birthday, until confessions were finally made.  More of her secrets and lies that I was not even slightly aware of before. Apologies were offered, we talked about our futures.  The notion of us reuniting again someday made the pain of this awful break-up barable.  Predictions and promises were made.  She was going to fall in and out of love with her next experiment (I mean "relationship"... opps), I was going to have sex with a few more hot chix and we would come together again someday, on the other side of all of it.

As I was packing to leave Mexico (being finally dumped by my cheating liar of a fiance) this passed summer, I told her that I dont see myself holding onto hope for "us" much further than my next birthday.  Some pieces of me say it would've been better if I let go well before then.  Other pieces remind me of the promises I made.  Some pieces of me hate her guts.  Other pieces inside me question the true value of my own words, "Beyond everything and no matter what."

So, my next birthday... is that beyond everything or what?  How many more times will I pledge my heart with an oath before it loses its worth entirely, even unto myself?  I know the only person who can answer these questions is me.

Like any other day...

If I had known, I probly would not have endulged in the guilty pleasure to begin with.  It was sposed to be only a simple passing of time.  Now, Ive got this responsibility on my hands.  I dont know whether to pretend like it never happened or accept it onto my life as fate.  I mean, Ive always had this gut-feeling that if I kept it up, someday Id find myself in this situation.  So, I guess I cant claim ignorance.  What did I expect, really?

What about when my friends find out?  How am I going to explain it, then?  They are never going to be able to look at me the same.  I spoke with my Reverend.  I spoke with my therapist.  Besides these two of my confidants, I have not shared my situation, at all, with any other.  The fineprint on the back states that if I dont come forward to claim ownership within a year, it will be deemed null and void.  So, Im contemplating to just sit on it and eventually I'll be able to pretend like it never happened.

But for now, it is very real and very embarrassing.  I mean, why does anyone buy these things if not to win, or at least imagine winning something.  I was bored and had a couple extra bux in my pocket.  I never really wanted this to happen.  I was satisfied with only daydreaming about it.  Daydreams of my daughters university tuition.  Daydreams of helping some of my friends into detox and rehab.  Daydreams of helping my mother and ex-wife with their bills and debts.

In reality, Im not so brave.  In reality, this has scared the shit out of me.  Ive tucked this cursed scratch and win lottery ticket between the pages of a book I havent opened in years.  In reality, if I were so brave, I would've torn it to pieces and tossed it in the trash.  In reality, I dont know how Im ever gonna trust anybody while Im holding onto this.  This is just to much for me to comprehend.

Emergency Escape Plans

We shared our afternoon at the ocean.  Shimmering sunshine sparkled and danced like pixies on blue green water.  We built a firepit and pretended we were on a desert island with no one else but us.  We made friends with an otter.  We played hide and seek in the tall grass until we were out of breath and collapsed for a nap together under a bush.

When we woke up, we ate our picnic lunch I had prepared for us.  Peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peaches and halva for dessert.  A beer to wash it all down.  We sat like a couple of monkeys cuddled close. She picked thistles off my jacket while I brushed burrs from her hair.   As we smoked a bowl together, we made energency escape plans, just in case we ever had to grow up.

As we watched the sunset catch fire to the horizion, she reached into her backpack and carefully pulled out a sheet of paper.  Torn and frayed along the edges, the drawing on it was faded and smudged.  But, the portrait was unmistakably recognizable.  Without a doubt, this was a picture of me.  She placed the sketch of myself onto my lap.  "I feel you should know that I drew this when I was 11.", she said.

Sailors Warning

I had a dream early this morning.  Natural and honest.  Without fear, at all.  You were here and we were together, sharing faith and hope and love.  Plaid shirt and leather jacket, still with pajama bottoms.  We hadn't bothered to shower, yet.  To-go cups from the neighborhood coffee shop.  We sat on my bed and played with treasures we found at the ocean.  We made designs, we played sinarios, we took pictures.  I kissed your bare shoulders.  Freckles like scattered pebbles along the shore, waves of wild hair splashed my face. 


Just open up a little bit more

Without shame

The next morning, I deleted fone numbers and blocked social network connections.  The last thing I want is any trace of evidence to come back on me.  Done.  I have given clear instruction to my close friends and workmates, to slap me across my face if I ever utter her name again, or speak of anything to do with her at all.  

This machete is the only witness, now.  Its cuts are unique and leave scars deeper than others, I know.  Eventually, someone is going to discover this and start asking questions. Even with blood dripping from my blade, I will never admit I ever knew of her existance.

However, I will never forget that night at the hotel.  I will remember it as one of my finest moments.  A mercy killing.  A brave gesture of compassion.  I will never confess in search of glory.  Im not a hero.  

Death by text at The Fancy Hotel.

Its been 3days since I did it.  It was brutal.  Insults like filthy blood sprayed everywhere. Spit was flying.  Tears were rolling.  The reality of screams cracked through fantasy like a judges gavel.  Let the guilty verdict fall on me.  Id do it, again with no remorse, just the same.

I kicked in the front door of the hotel, swinging my machete to protect my personal space.  As people came close, attempting to defuse and restrain me, I was not to be entertained with even the thought of it.  I had been tempering and sharpening this blade for about a year.  I forged it from metal of the sword that cut me and forked my tongue when I was a young child.  So, it sliced through living flesh as though it were phantom.

I could hear men yelling and women gasping tears as I passed the elevator and headed towards the stairs.  The 9th floor?  Sure, sounds 'bout right.  I dont know why I chose the 9th floor.  I figured it to be divine guidance becuz I heard her voice as soon as I stepped into the hall. Such a beautiful laugh, like bells and chiming harmonies.  Talking and chatting, her story fluttered down the hall like a wandering pixie.

If I was ever sure, it was in those moments.  This is not the first time I have heard her romantic candor being conveyed to another, besides myself.  Once apon a time, I told her I was in love with her.  I figured from the beginning, she didnt really want to know.  But, I told her, anyway.  Selfish, I know.  Careless.  Eventually, the destined day would come and any hostages would have to die along with one of us.

My Darling, she really could be such a wonderful woman.  I offered.  I even put the knife to my chest for her.  She said she would.  But, she never finished anything she ever started.  However, I should not have asked her to fix my mistake.  Once again, months had passed since she vowed to twist the blade deeply secure into the middle of the suffering pain and make the ultimate cut.    Instead, she dragged it with her to this hotel room.  Hanged by a thread over the balcony, it swung between a tease and a threat.  

I huffed and I puffed and I blew open the hotelroom door.  I charged like a bullet with a mission towards the balcony.  Again, swinging my machete, it came down on the metal railing with a striking spark and severed that thread.  She was behind me in the room, already nursing a flesh wound her company had received in the confusion of my sudden entry. While I watched it fall 9storeys and then splatter on the sidewalk below like a grape tomato, the display of  her loving attention for her company  was confirmation that it was, in fact, finally dead.  If it ever was alive, I think not.

As I turned to clamly walk out, I set fire to the curtains.  The bed sheets, towels, fuckin lampshades.  Even the god damn bible in the nightstand drawer.  It all caught aflame so easily.  A blaze set for ashes was raging just behind me already as I left the building.  I waited around the corner long enuff to make sure they both made it out.  I blew my nose on the murder scene as though tossing a rose onto its coffin.  Although, no need for a funeral.  I will not be returning for memorial.

Memory Lane, aka Commercial Drive

I went for a walk through East Van.  Sunshine beamed down from the blue sky and cut the crisp autumn air.  Trees were changing into their fall colors all around me.  Birds were chirping and visiting and fluttering in and out of the sun and tree-shade above me.  I looked up and saw dancing freckles on the cheeks of the warmest sparkling smile.

Our initials are still clearly etched on a square of sidewalk between The Movie Theater and Dollar Grocer.

I ordered a small americano from JJBean and walked up the hill to our old house.  I made SO much music in that front window.  I listened to the song we made together for the art gallery.  I have it on my ipod.  Sitar and flute.

I stood outside Havana Restaurant and lit a cigarette while watching the comings and goings of the kitchen, the hustle and bustle of the bar.  I crossed the street and finished my cigarette outside Bkiram.

It felt like my life.  Natural.  A continuous reality.  Looking into the past to gain some sense of the future.  I walked along these same streets a few days before and my focus left my imagination cloudy and vague.  However, during this stroll, everything felt so clear.  My imagination busted wide open and I thought I saw blonde pixies peeking up from behind shrubs, again.

In the beginning...

I went to The Templeton on Granville St.  After my meal, I stood half a block up the street where she first warned me.

I walked home along Thurlow St and crossed Barclay St.  I stopped and stood at the pay phone where I first saw her cry.

I went and got wasted drunk @ The Cambie, where she had introduced herself to me.  I sat @ the table where she first kissed me.

I walked up and down Commercial Drive and ate gelato.  I bought a gala apple from dollar grocer and picked a little bouquet of wild flowers.

It feels like some other life.  A parallel reality.  Some kind of weird dream.  A time when I could still pretend.

Just what the doctor ordered

"What in the hell has she done to you?", she asks.  "Well, you see...", I proceed to explain only to be immediately interupted with an obvious and factual tone, "Lookit, we have been closest friends since we were teenagers, you can tell me, you know that."  I begin to reply, "Its kinda hard to explain, but...".  she continues, "You special, wonderful man.  Im here, now.  You're safe and can share with me, without fear."  Im getting the feeling I may not be able to finish a sentence while she is being this emotional.  I dont think there are words to really describe it, anyway.

So, I lift up my shirt to show my closest friend the scar down the middle of my chest.  The look on her face says it all.  But, she asks with horror, anyway, "And... you let her do this?"  "Yup, I sure did.", I reply, sadly.  "She told me she knew what she was doing.".  I continue, "She told me she had been practicing the procedure since she was eight years old... if not her entire life.".

"Is this why I haven't heard from you in awhile?", she whispers while softly putting her hand to the mark on my chest.  With a teardrop rolling down her cheek, she asks, "Does it still hurt?"  I explain, "Yes. It hurts alot, rite now.  In fact, you are the first person to actually touch it and... it still hurts, alot."  She removes her hand, instantly.  But, only to pull me closer and hug me and kiss me.  I can taste her salty tears.

Love, cigarettes and other dirty habits.

Loving me is like smoking a cigarette. It could kill you. But, you just cant help yourself. You swear you arent going to, anymore. But, for the rest of your god-damned life, you will fight the craving.

You try to convince yourself it is a bad habit, dirty and harmful.  You try every alternative to stop.  Gum, patches, will-power, lies and cheating on me with your boss.  But still, nothing gives comfort and satisfaction like a good ol fashioned tailor-made king-sized Yanko.  I mean... cigarette.

Sure, you may think it makes you look soo cool.  Even though your parents warn you not to, you dont listen.  But after awhile, you will question how (and why) you ever started to begin with.  Some of the best advice I could ever give is to never start... smoking.

You forgot?

Allow me to refresh your memory...

I smoke.  I drink.  I get stoned. 

I forget where I live. 

I have to pay attention and remind myself to eat or it wont happen. 

I have no shame. 

I swear. 

My teeth could use a good cleaning and fixing. 

My clothes are all old and dirty. 

I dont think.  I feel. 

I try to never use the words sorry, should or fault. 

I dont really understand the concepts of time or money. 

I drink my coffee instant, strong, black and no sugar. 

I have afternoon naps. 

I eat leftover scraps. 

I feel alone all the time, even when Im surrounded with people who love me. 

I get along best with animals, the mentally handicapped, children and senior citizens.

I am from an exploded star.

I have no excuse and I refuse to take responsibility for any of this. 

I act like a child who never had a mother or father.

I require alot of constant loving attention.

Remember, now?

I miss you so much

"I miss you so much", she types.  Surely, she is not typing to me. Of course, she is not.  Thats rediculous.  I mean, I am a wonderful man and it is a tragedy to have thrown away such a blessing.  But, how can you miss something you never wanted to begin with?  No.  Surely, she is not missing me.

"I miss you so much", she types.  No, she's not missing me.  All she ever did was try to get away from me.  All she ever did was push me away.  How could she miss me when all she ever did was ignore, neglect and reject me?

Well, I maybe wrong......

Her father left when she was a young child.  So, she made me go away forever, as well.  An attempt to explain that almost forgotten childhood memory.  Maybe she does miss me.  It maybe all she knows how to do.  She is most comfortable when expressing herself through a filter of sorrow.

I dont want to be missed.  I want to be loved.  Beyond everything and no matter what.  Totally only and forever fully.  Come to me, running as fast as you can, with arms wide open and full of hope.

You see, it is hard to miss someone when you do that.  So, maybe she does type "I miss you so much" for me to read.  As long as I have been loving her, all she ever wanted to do was miss me.  No, I want to be loved.

She also types, "What I dont miss... I forgot.".

The Krac between Us

I know you dream of me, still.  I dream of you, too.  Imagination is a powerful place.  In fact, it is where all reality sprouts from.

However, there is so much more that goes on beyond the edge of imagination.  So much more patiently waiting, in order, at the outskirts.  So much is waiting for a turn to step into the light of comprehension.

The division between imagination and reality is a small Krac.  It is not very wide.  But, it runs very deep.  Many dreams will not step over this Krac.  Even though it is narrow, they fear its dark and unknown depths.

How easily the words, "beyond everything and no matter what" are forgotten in attempt to justify these fears.

You cant see the wind, itself. You can only see the effects of its presence.

I've gone swimming in the pacific ocean every day for the past week, now.  The ocean is 3blox away from my house.  Im moving on the 15th of this month.  The ocean is literally across the street from my new place.

Today, when I threw myself into the pacific ocean, I found myself wondering about who else maybe floating in this same enormous body of water.

I feel pure love coming to me like I've never felt before.  She is sending me shooting stars and shrinking the ocean to the size of a teardrop.  This love that is being sent to me is so complete and secure, it envelopes my imagination with clairvoyance and waking dreams.

However, it feels like telepathy into the unknown. I can tell you who I imagine she is. I cannot tell yet with absolute certainty who she is.  But, I think she was in the pacific ocean today.  The waves reminded me of how she dances to PJ Harvey.

Dear Universe.....

Dear Universe,

Thank you for all the love that you so generously give me daily.  In your time, I am always provided for, I know.

I dont desire to break from the rythm of life that has been rewarding me with this constant flow of blessings.  So, if there could be a way to fit my selfish human wishes into The Plan, that would be sooo great :)

My human desire is for the pure and honest true love of a irresistablly beautiful, pleasant, respectful and dedicated woman.  This woman is running to me rite now, from where ever she may be, with arms wide open and full of hope.  She is going to show up on my doorstep, give me a warm hug an' tell me, "Everything is going to be ok".  She will hold my hand and share everything with me.  Without fear or expectation or condition.  Unlimited patience and compassionate acceptance.

Love has taken me to many places and I dont regret, even for a moment, a single choice.  But, maybe this time, love could come blazing a trail straight for me, instead?  

Arite Universe, there ya have it  :)  Of course, no pressure :P  

Thank you,

       Your child.

In response,

You say you were never truely in love with me.  No duh!!!  I truely loved you, though.  Even though you cheated on me and lied to me and kept secrets and neglected me, I dont talk trash about you, Diana.  Maybe it is your own guilt that is trying to convince you that I am.  Maybe I should be talking trash about you.  But, all I can do is be thankful.

Yes, thankful.  If you had not kicked me out of Mexico so you could finally fuck your boss, I would not be living in this wonderful city or this awesome condo that looks out over English Bay .  I would not have this amazing job.  I would not be living a life that feels like every day my dreams are coming true.

I check your blog (http://galadiana.blogspot.com/) becuz I hope to read that your life is going well, Diana.  Buenos Aires.  True love.  Your art.  Your passion.  I read your blog becuz I hope to see that, these decisions you've made, are making you as happy as they have made me.

You have influenced my life in ways, I wonder if, you may never understand.  Thank you for so much.  I wish you well.

Polly Part2

Polly is my very close and good friend.  I believe her when she tells me everything is going to be ok.  I trust her becuz she is always honest with me. Never hurtful.  Always gentle.  Polly knows.  Polly understands.  As well, Polly has been the excuse you'd been looking for.  The excuse you needed to explore your fantasies without having to face the shame of throwing away a good man who truely loved you.

Love is the most powerful and abundant resource known to mankind.  More powerful than the sun and more abundant than water.  The only reason a person would not have success with love is becuz she would not step out from her shell to feel the warm sun shine on her bare skin.  She would not strip down naked and jump into the refreshing lake, head-first.

I am a frog, resting on a lillypad and basking in the sunshine.  As I sit and enjoy the scenery, I watch many a princess walk the path that circles this lake.  They are all searching for the same thing.  True love.  The first princess brave enuff to swim out here and give this frog a kiss is going to have a prince on her hands.

Save your breath and your words.  I can barely see you along the waters edge, anymore and I cant hear a word you are saying from out here in the middle of this lake.  Your apology means nothing to me.  Unless you are the princess that is going to swim out here and give me that magic kiss, I couldnt care less about what else you do.

Triangles: Welcome to The New Perspective...

I am a triangle.  Grounded soundly on my broad side. From opposite ends of my line, two points incline towards one another to meet(3points make a triangle).  

Imagine,

You and I are the opposite ends of a line. Above us, in the middle, is Love. As we both reach for Love, we form a triangle.  The further away we make opposite ends, more energy is required to travel a further distance to connect to Love. The further away our line is from Love, the steeper our climb becomes to connect Love.

The same thing happens when 2points that form the baseline become too close.  The incline towards love becomes steeper.  

But, when we lift our line closer to the point of Love, our triangle becomes sturdier. Increasingly unshakable.  When our triangle's stance is wide and Love is close, this triangle formation of energy becomes increasingly solid. 

Prisms.  Spectrum of color.  Light.  Sight.  Perspective.  What direction will I tilt my triangle today?  How will I choose to allow the pure light of Love to refract through my prism?  Will I choose to reveal only certain colors?  Id like to place my triangle in just the right place.  Just the right angle so every color shines together and displays a full, proportionate and wonderful rainbow of life. 

This is a 3D world. Length, height and depth. A line is not 3D.  It is of popular opinion that connections between 2people involve only 2points.  Zero and One. You or me.  Us or them.  It is when we connect to Love that our view is lifted and awakens a truely 3D world.  

Happiness is....

Polly doesnt judge me.  Polly accepts me for who I am.  Polly doesnt think there is anything wrong with me.  Polly doesnt become frustrated and annoyed with my unique nature.  Polly prefers me no other way than how I am.  Polly and I want the same things.   Polly doesnt push me away and she doesnt hide.  Polly makes time for me.  Polly shares.  Polly tells me about her day.

Diana, you knew from the moment you laid eyes on Polly that she was going to be a very special part of my life.  So did she and so did I.  Some things are bigger than explanation. 

As well, I knew you would become involved with your boss.  I knew this mainly because you would stay out all nite, not answer your cell phone, come home in the morning wasted drunk and tell me about how your boss wants to sleep with you and you think about sleeping with him, too.

As Polly and I grow closer and deeper every day together,  I wish for you and Chris to find everything your selfish materialistic lil heart ever wanted.  Im sure his expensive lifestyle will please you more than folding my ripped jeans ever could.