Tuesday, July 28, 2015

That burning sensation of your personal business

I was asked to marry a couple about 3 months ago. I was flattered and teary eyed. Of course I said YES!
I met her HIM just before they asked me but I've known her for about 15 years. She's 25 now I think and the closest its been to marrying my daughter. I wept controlled tears of joy during the outdoor ceremony, I lost it in private.
Time waits for no one! Was I ever 25? Who was I 27 years ago? Did I have dreams? Was I merely surviving a mental barrage of information based on stupid life choices and no game/life plan?
Is my suffering today a direct result of being a dumb shit with no council so long ago?
My (no) money is on YES!
So the wedding...I was asked to wear to my Utilikilt (look 'em up and get your guy one) and of course I agreed happily!
It was 30+ degrees C in Okotoks that day and I was nervous. I wear the kilt in the tradition of Ancient  wearers of old...on it's own!
But man did I sweat that day! Nerves you know?
So yeah, the wedding was a brilliant success and all is well! People danced into the night blah blah blah.
The next day, I went on an 11 km hike along side a river that disappeared now and then as we climbed small mountainous trails.
More sweat...no kilt freedom for me!
I could feel my discomfort growing as the temperature between my thighs began to rise. It wasn't pretty I can assure you! How on Earth did the Scots ride horses let alone fight?
 Anyway, I was with 2 people half my age, even so I kept up with their enthusiasm along the intermediate trails...but secretly I was suffering. I'm sure any bear that chanced by would turn his nose up to this well-done morsel!
It became apparent to me that the Gods of Moderate Endowment were playing a trick on my pride with every step, they blessed me with a nasty rash!
Oh to squat in that river! To feel it's cooling embrace...but no. Soldier on! Walk in the fire!Stagger through the sting!
I eventually made it through that trip and the short work week of driving truck (in agony) before my motorcycle trip with my wife for our 25th.
Our bike trip was brilliant! Sunshine Coast, Gibsons, Davis Bay, Powell River, Port Alberni, Tofino, Ucluelet, Maple Bay etc. We saw many friends and had loads of fun, but my rash increased in fury!
Oh how I wish I was making this up!
Afterwards, I returned to work on the hot truck with slightly teary eyes replacing the usual spring in my step, that bloody rash was migrating regardless of creams, air, ointments and petitions to the gods that cast it upon me in the first place. I had given in. Without knowing the game, I surrendered to them.
Alas...they've not yet granted me audience nor given any relief 4 weeks on.
So today, I'm down in Vancouver's "skid row" doing one of my usual drops and I chat with one of my usual acquaintances. He lives in one of those 12X12 rooms that cost over $500 month. They call them SRO's... dumps in Single Room Occupancy hotels that the City of Vancouver and Her Mayour Gregor Robinson continue to allow to exist. (must be a profit thing or cash promises from future Developers)
So I'm grumbling the way I usually do and my guy grabs at his crotch unapologetically and violently scratches it a few times as if he's on fire...
 I tell him "Dude, I know that dance step..."
He says "Yes...fucking bed bugs. I hate them!"
Suddenly my non-parasitic rash earned outdoors in the country whilst breathing fresh air taking exercise isn't all that bad!

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

take stock.


I was with my friend Red today. I'm not allowed to tell you his real name because the police and some other guys want to talk to him. I know a bit of the story...I know too much.
I can use his nickname because you won't meet him unless you walk around those nasty areas in Vancouver's DTES and bump into him.
My wife has met him and likes him. He likes her. My 21 year old daughter met him today...I think she likes him but to be fair, she doesn't mind "those people".
Red punishes the scales at 356 pounds, has a bald head since he was 19 so he says (he's 47) several Confederate Flag tattoos and uses words to describe people of colour that I won't repeat here or anywhere...you get the idea.
Red has a HUGE heart! He looks out for the Sex Trade Workers that (we) know and lives in the battle zone. I get to go home every night.
One day, my daughter was on the truck with me helping out and hanging out doing my usual route. Red caught wind of some of what some of the local guys said about her (unheard by me) What they'd like to do with her...
Red went off the rails!
He's a good guy to avoid if he's in a bad mood. (today, when Red met my daughter, he said "If ever you have any problem when you're down there, say my name...you'll be ok") I think I believe him.
Red lets the local women sleep at his place when they're scared, sick or hurting. He's described the arrangement but you don't need to know that.
I've met several of these women who are deeply trapped in addiction leading to horrific poverty and daily doses of hell, they all have stories. They all had dreams. They're not just "whores"!
Facebook trolls give more passion towards beat dogs and starved kittens then they do towards these fellow humans.But who am I to judge? (oh right...)
I met a young woman today who is addicted to heroin. She says she hits 3 or 4 times a day but doesn't know how much money it is. She gave a guy a blow job for $1.35 last week. I'd love to meet him after sunset.
I'll do you one better...her friend did the same thing for a car ashtray full of cigarette butts.
I don't make this stuff up. You want more?
Catch these women when they're not "hurting"
So normal sounding, so many dreams....
Are you ashamed of anything you've done? Don't judge these women for God's sake!
I gave LB a chocolate bar the other day, she couldn't beleive "no strings".  This woman is stunning! Great personality, hoarse voice, full figure, big eyes, strong legs, big smile...HIV positive, persistent cough, delusional, bruises everywhere, teeth missing, staggers as she walks, drifts in and out of consciousness, and needs dope.
I quite like her. Honestly, she must have been a knockout before dope...she still has glimmers of "oh damn" but they're fading fast.
Brandy (regular local woman) ate a 5 lb bag of gummie bears in about 15 minutes today. That was quite a feat. Sugar you see. I kinda thought they'd last her. Lesson learned. (is that even a bad thing?)
Another woman stole a roll of paper towels from Red's room (SRO) the other day...she didn't have any tampons. He forgave her.
Every week end Red sprays "the raid" around his room and door because no one else on his floor does. Red is bed bug and cockroach free.
At $575 month, the room is clostrophobic. But hell, he has a window!
Times are tough! My house lives paycheque to paycheque. If we're careful, we can waste money on beer and the odd meal out.
 In saying that, we have a rented home, insurance, a van, a motorbike both insured, health benefits, internet, iPhones, clothes, foods, hobbies, family, friends...the list goes on.
No real reason to bitch!

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Slap in the face like a 2x4

I'm a bitchy cuss, I admit it. I have to LOOK for the good during each breath or I see the bad. What the hell, I'm British...I come by it honestly. Harry was a brilliant professor and I was a remarkable pupil!
So, in the vein of negative shite, have you ever read something someone wrote about you that they thought you'd never see or would fold like a cheap Walmart tent if they knew that you DID read it? Was it an ad? A reference? A comment on social network that slithered into your sight unbeknownst to the author...or worse? Something penned by a loved one or dear friend??
How do you deal with it? How DID you cope?
I don't give a rip about what strangers think or say about me. In fact...I could care less what acquaintances say or think.....
The thing that stings is what CLOSE friends or Family say. The stuff that they don't have the balls to say to your face...but write it down, gossip about it within family circles or they try to shroud it on social network sites (use your friggin' skulls, people)
During a recent trip to Alberta to perform a wedding ceremony between a couple I've known from a youth group I led years ago, I recalled the horrific gossip that oozed around the County about me in several towns as I drove past my former neighbourhood.
Three Hills, Acme and Linden.
All the shite said ABOUT me (never in direct earshot) apparently occured while I served as Associate Pastor at a very busy Alliance church for several years.
(Thankless gig. I DO NOT recommend any kind of "job" within a Christian organization!)
The BS one particular 40+ woman conjured up about me without witness or corrorborating testimony could have landed me in jail! I asked the bitch for proof in front of witnesses...she couldn't deliver, but the local, gutless, faceless Kangaroo Court she rallied together had already deliberated without any incriminating fact. I guess as Pastor, I wasn't doing what she wanted and she rallied her mindless friends. Such are closed-minded Christians focused entirely on themselves.
So, my bit? I pray I never set eyes on her again! I wish her no ill will, but I hope she fades away to BLACK.
I pray for her kids...God help them remove her teaching from their hearts....
I was driving the 5-ton around Vancouver today. I'm a professional driver but I still manage to daydream at the odd red light. Today, my thoughts centered around how Family see me vs how Friends see me vs how Acquaintances see me.
Acquaintances: Binners, Strangers asking for money, Humans in wheelchairs, Addicted Sex-trade Workers, Welfare Bums, Mentally ill and Criminals that I chat with daily vs Friends that have known me for years vs Family that have known me forever...
You wanna know the truth? I think Acquaintances peg me most accurately. I don't hide a fucking thing from them.
So...the title of this post: Slap in the face like a 2X4?
I was chatting with a guy asking for coins that I often SEE outside a Government liquor store (he doesn't want me to use his name)
He saw and heard my motorbike.
He used to race dirt bikes. Modified dirt bikes. He talked like he's either lived it and was highly skilled or rehearsed it to the point that he's 1970's current and trying to gain street creed. Buddy is in a motorized wheelchair! Legs don't do what his brain asks and arms and hands protest every order.
I think he raced in the day.
Buddy pegged my heart, he identified a few of my passions and thanked me for chatting with him again (as possible spare change walked by)  he challenged me (I'm not telling what he said) and shook my hand with his. If I shut my eyes, I'd describe the sensation as holding a bare tree branch in a storm. But you know what? I felt Love, Compassion and Sincerity.
So...all this to say that I really don't care what you write about me in secret, whisper in the shadows or veil in snide social network comments.
I'll breathe deep with the people you may not see...because you know what?
THEY SEE!!!!!!!