It's just gone 4am today and I'm doing another graveyard shift at the grouphome. This is the 5th one this month on top of working 40+ hour weeks driving a 5 ton.
I can't tell you about the kids at this place because they're minors, suffice it to say that there are not many "good" stories here.
Harry used to work in corrections. He landed a job at Oakalla prison here in BC and after several years there moved on to work out of a halfway house in South Vancouver on Hudson St. in the Marpole area. I couldn't imagine the Blue Bloods in that area allowing a house like that up there now! In fact, the original site is about 7 minutes from my home. Funny how things go.
If you don't know, a halfway house is where convicted criminals live upon release from prison to begin the process of reintegration with society while still providing monitoring and support. The Offenders get meals, a room and a program in addition to whatever their parole conditions are. Some end up back in prison unfortunately.
Opening a new halfway house is often opposed by vocal people called NIMBYs ( Not In My Back Yard ) To be honest, I wouldn't want to live within a community of NIMBY's.
Anyway, the reason I tell you this is that I get lonely on this shift if the kids are away or asleep like tonight and I'm Missing Harry.
Harry was my dad if you didn't know...
Harry did shiftwork for about the last 20 years of his work life. You gotta admire a guy for that don't you?
In my mind's eye as a child and a teen, I can see Harry waving goodbye as he drove off to work in the different cars he owned throughout the years.
A 59 Pontiac Stratochief, 66 Pontiac Parisienne, an "in the meantime" 74 AMC Hornet until his 75 AMC Pacer came in and finally his 81 Chevy Caprice Estate wagon, the last car he'd drive.
He had to wear a uniform in Prison and hated the green colour and the tie. He hated anything even close to formal or military. I come by that formal bit honestly so it would seem.
The 70's were innovative years, so much changing so quickly. As a kid, I'm sure I missed a lot of things but I recall lots!
Harry hated it if mum "kept his dinner warm" in the oven under tin foil. I can still hear him "June (my mum) for Christ's sake, leave it on the counter Love. It's horrible all dried out like this."
He adored her, don't get me wrong! He was a crusty Brit is all. We eventually got a 60 lb microwave in the very late 70's. Probably from Sears...they were loyal to that place.
Harry wouldn't take food to work with him. I suppose they had meals in the house and leftovers like here, but the man was very picky...probably didn't eat. He DID take a little plug-in kettle and a few tea bags though. No tea there? Seemed odd even then. I can still see the fold-over baggie. No ziplocks then.
Somewhere along the line, Harry found a little black and white portable TV to take along. He could get 3 channels. Imagine 3 channels back in the 70's early 80's. What was even on during the lonely hours?
Lonely. Harry had 1 friend. Dave. ( Dave worked at the house and drove one of those very cool 70's Volvo P1800 E coupes. It was copper coloured. Ugly choice.)
I don't know how Harry managed lonely. Maybe he never got lonely? I get lonely. I'm lonely now.
Harry told me a few work stories in later years over beers in strip bars. Like the time he flushed the toilet at the house and the tank seemed "quick" to fill. He lifted the lid and found 2 bottles of Vodka.
Did he fill in a report? Nope...he tipped the spirit down the sink, filled the bottles with water and put them back where he found them. He said he never heard a word about it.
He played tricks on his work mates often, I wish I could recall some to tell you.
Some mornings, when I was still very young, I'd hear Harry get up and put the kettle on and I'd get up too. School was hours away but often I'd pretend I couldn't sleep just so I could sit with him before he left. We didn't really talk about anything. What is there to say to a little kid as you're getting ready for work?
I recall feeling sad for him though. I don't remember why I felt that way, I just recall the emotion as if it happened only yesterday.
A cup of tea and a bowl of Special K cereal, every time I got up...and I did it many times, that's what he was having for breakfast on day shift mornings. He ate, I sat...it was quiet. Damn I wish I remembered if we talked!
You know, I've tried Special K and I don't get the appeal...but sometimes, in a grocery store when I see it there, I look around in case someone is watching and if not...I touch the box.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Why does cerebral drama occur at night?
We've all got our shit to deal with. Unfortunately, others also have our shit to deal with too. You don't get to pick and choose how other people will respond to your madness or selfishness, but you may have to live with it.
Blow out is often seen as bad karma, but really...maybe you earned it.
I had a dream the other night. I don't put too much stock into dreams because as Ebenezer Scrooge says, "you may be the effect of an under cooked potato or a bit of undigested beef"
Never the less, my dreams are telling.
I recently had a dream wherein my wife put down her instrument in the middle of a jam we often attend to walk over to me and point out the 6 men that she had recently slept with. (caveat, she hasn't...)
I woke up mad.
Another nocturnal event had me shouting at my boss for being an utter tit with no clue about the daily goings on. Albeit true, I'd never resort to a public thrashing such as that.
I'm a news junkie. I had a dream that the jet I was on crashed into the sea. Many were lost...horribly. Victims were dismembered, burnt and bloated. I survived via a short swim. The dream was so vivid that I woke with heavy guilt that I survived while many perished.
Another dream, I lost an arm. No idea how...but for a motorcyclist and photographer, this is NOT good news. I just sat in a white room and cried.
So why is it that we can fumble through our respective days oblivious to our deepest fears and anguish?
Why, on our pillow, does all the shit slide down the wall and onto our brain?
What's your poison? Debt, age, health, kids, unfaithful spouse, middle age, aging parents, rebellious kids...
Why do our thoughts overtake us the moment we're meant to recharge...reboot...rejuvenate?
How many books have been written by authors with all the answers? ( we all know that they lay awake at night too! Save your money!!)
We try so many tactics and angles to sleep.
SEX, tea, lavender, reading, yoga, stretching, meditation, prayer, reading, massage, alcohol, snacks...
I may have missed your favourite angle, but I bet you lay awake too.
My brain is a convincing lier. My brain whilst horizontal on my pillow has a way of nullifying the effects of my citalopram and thereby convincingly whispering everything to me in the language I trust, everything I dread or fear about YOU or me! ESPECIALLY what I think of me and what I think that YOU think of me!
This is quite like chasing a feather in the wind.
Blow out is often seen as bad karma, but really...maybe you earned it.
I had a dream the other night. I don't put too much stock into dreams because as Ebenezer Scrooge says, "you may be the effect of an under cooked potato or a bit of undigested beef"
Never the less, my dreams are telling.
I recently had a dream wherein my wife put down her instrument in the middle of a jam we often attend to walk over to me and point out the 6 men that she had recently slept with. (caveat, she hasn't...)
I woke up mad.
Another nocturnal event had me shouting at my boss for being an utter tit with no clue about the daily goings on. Albeit true, I'd never resort to a public thrashing such as that.
I'm a news junkie. I had a dream that the jet I was on crashed into the sea. Many were lost...horribly. Victims were dismembered, burnt and bloated. I survived via a short swim. The dream was so vivid that I woke with heavy guilt that I survived while many perished.
Another dream, I lost an arm. No idea how...but for a motorcyclist and photographer, this is NOT good news. I just sat in a white room and cried.
So why is it that we can fumble through our respective days oblivious to our deepest fears and anguish?
Why, on our pillow, does all the shit slide down the wall and onto our brain?
What's your poison? Debt, age, health, kids, unfaithful spouse, middle age, aging parents, rebellious kids...
Why do our thoughts overtake us the moment we're meant to recharge...reboot...rejuvenate?
How many books have been written by authors with all the answers? ( we all know that they lay awake at night too! Save your money!!)
We try so many tactics and angles to sleep.
SEX, tea, lavender, reading, yoga, stretching, meditation, prayer, reading, massage, alcohol, snacks...
I may have missed your favourite angle, but I bet you lay awake too.
My brain is a convincing lier. My brain whilst horizontal on my pillow has a way of nullifying the effects of my citalopram and thereby convincingly whispering everything to me in the language I trust, everything I dread or fear about YOU or me! ESPECIALLY what I think of me and what I think that YOU think of me!
This is quite like chasing a feather in the wind.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
the thundering cranial pageant of being Right
Forgive my absence...busy you know?
So I went to Vancouver's 420 "celebration" in order to garner an informed opinion. I don't do weed (drugs) but I'm not opposed to "organics".
Here's the caveat, ANY illicit chemical concoction is absolutely out and I believe, for the record, that the people who abide in chemical drug experimentation are being absolutely reckless, ignorant and stupid. (To my friends that do chemicals, I love you...QUIT IT!)
Where was I?
Right...420. What a pathetic display! I'll get back to that in a shake (pun intended)
So I'm still on that anti-bummer drug citalopram and it seems to be helping. I liken it to a foggy car windshield. You can certainly drive the car with a muggy window but you're basing your operation of the vehicle within an opaque deficit if I can use the term. Drop a few milligrams of citalopram and it's like hitting the defogger switch. Now your decisions are based on clear, accurate information. No more conclusions made in the fog. I also have the balls to clarify information when necessary (insert ovaries if applicable)
I have a friend that has been on a cocktail of anti-depressants, anti-convulsive and anti-psychotic drugs for about 9 years. I really like him...but I often wonder who he REALLY is. Does he remember? Is that pre-dose guy a bastard? A disaster? Does he recall the gorgeous, heady odour of an apple pie cooling on a window sill in August? Do they do apple pies in skid row?
A friend of mine is on 350mg of happy drugs. I really enjoy her company! I love who she is today...
She tells me that she needs that amount. Who am I to say? What do I know. 10mg keeps this Tyro out of the Dark Places.
Like I said, I really like her...would I hang with her if she WASN'T on that dose? I think yes...but that remains to be seen. If anyone has earned Happy Drugs, its her by a long shot!
I stopped over at Steve's place. You remember Steve? Lives rough along the Fraser River, has that tent...well you should see his Shangri-La now! Buddy has a fine squat! I'd live there proudly. He found work and has even allowed a dude named Brock to "live" there for a few days until "his money starts coming in".
I'd way rather my tax money go to these guys BEFORE Harper's millionaire pals....but I digress.
Local news recently reported a fire in East Vancouver along Hastings that claimed the lives of 2 Squatters. 2 visitors to the derelict building slated for demolition to make way for the Strathcona Village condos were however rescued as they dangled from windows. They tried in vain to reach their friends, a 66 year old and her son (to be confirmed)
Every local news station is mute on this story now as backhoes clear the rubble. No flowers, no candles, no marker...no care.
Homelessness
Meanwhile in Richmond, arson claims the life of a woman and nearly kills her son. I keep hearing about THAT story!
Did I mention that the Strathcona fire was preceded by a "very loud hissing followed by a bang in the basement" ? No inquiry here...insurance claim is better than paying for demolition. (oh yes I did!)
I got a friend in the DTES who has a vice. I like him, but I hate his vice. Don't get me wrong, he's a hell of a guy standing in at 340 lbs but he can be as pissy as a picnic wasp after being swatted away from the Mennonite jello salad. The guy respects me, I call him on his bullshit and he threatens me if no one is around. He really likes my wife too.
His vice? Sex Trade Workers. He lives in a SRO hotel that is true shite and he trades a warm safe night for these women for...whatever they negotiate. I liken him to some parasitical crawler you know?
Like I said, I like him...hate the vice!
How best we govern our fondness of other humans only after we have clouded our opinions of them with our own moral code, community standard and prejudices?
To my knowledge, this guy has beaten at least 3 men because they continued to "bum" smokes off of an incredibly obese woman with mental health issues as she sat outside the local Mission. He too has a code that he lives by! He's like a Watcher of the Wretched. I tip my hat to him...but deep down I'd enjoy adjusting his attitude! God help me!
There was a room fire at recovery house for women mid last week. I stopped in as I do several times a week only to read a note on the door in big letters:
SORRY. YOU CAN NOT SLEEP HERE TONIGHT. YOU WILL HAVE TO GO TO TRIAGE, THEY HAVE ROOM. WE ARE WORKING AS FAST AS WE CAN TO CLEAN THIS UP
Ever seen Triage? What a jewell of a resource!
http://www.raincityhousing.org/what-we-do/emergency-housing/
But imagine if you will, coming home to that note. What a kick to the fragile mental well-being! Triage is amazing...but it isn't anyones home I don't think.
So...420
I've heard about this in the Grouphome, from guys on the street, the media blah blah blah but I'm a cynic. I had to see for myself. WHO is dying to get weed legal? WHO is using weed openly? WHO is hoping for change?
So I rode to the Art Gallery from work and spent 45 minutes trying to find parking. Our Mayor has really allowed City Hall to convert Vancouver into a NO CAR city. What a tool! Hard to park my motorbike? Really? ( I pay the same meter price as a car...only the City has given us designated spots. Not at a third the whack...full grab)
My heart sank as I walked thru a crush of under 20's smoking joints IN THE FACE of cops. They knew they'd not be bothered, so they acted quite appropriately like KIDS. I pressed on towards the band playing Bob Marley tunes (colour me shocked)
I passed a booth where 3 heavily tattooed clowns wearing American basketball attire amped up the sleepy crowd as they tried to keep their 1/2 pound joint lit. Is this the equivalent to chugging cokes? All I could think about was their resumes. They claim the weed has NO EFFECT on their abilities etc. So why smoke it? I'm so square! I've smoked weed once in over 2 decades. I'm talking out of my bum.
Tell ya what, tell me that you enjoy getting baked like a fresh caught trout in a cast iron skillet along the river and I'll give you my blessings...excuses? Isms? Piss off!
So on I squish.
I came upon the food trucks. What a display! I saw guys and pretty young women...girls really, attacking tacos, grilled cheese sandies, burritos and hotdogs like hyenas on a warm carcass blotting in the Serengeti Plain sun. There wasn't a crumb left on the pavement and I'm certain I heard growling! The seagulls overhead lamented at the spectacle.
Allow me to mention the Medicinal Dope Pushers.
Marc Emery didn't see this coming I'm sure! I lost track of just how many booths were set up with Medicinal Carnies calling their product. So many promises, so many jokes, so much smoke...
Who creates the names of this stuff? I can't even recall any but boy was I giggling. (contact high?)
Marc my words (sic) Walmart is gonna offer weed right after Starbucks and LuLuLemon.
So WHO was there? Best estimation has been at 15,000 humans.
I'm not a total washout at guessing ages...good grief, I've woked in the humanities for over 20 years...
I'm going to estimate that 90% of the people I saw between 4;15 and 5;35pm were under 30.
I'd go "all in" betting that 75% of those people were under 20 and 80% of THOSE people have She-Shes. I was surprised.
I was expecting Bikers, Deadheads, Hippies, and Surfbums. Nope, totally blindsided.
I'm 51 years young, I don't do drugs (mmmmm beeeeer) and I now have an accurate portrayal to support my fear of the deteriorating health of Canada. If these people are next in line to Govern, either it's gonna be a slow summer Alabama slumber or a dazed, lackadaisiacle takeover by a clever clan of cronies that don't smoke weed.
In any event, I'm sure I'll be too old to give a shit!
Peace
CAVEAT
Feel free to disagree, challenge, comment, send accolades or death threats...I'm in no way 100% correct on anything I ever write! But in THIS case....I'm right!
So I went to Vancouver's 420 "celebration" in order to garner an informed opinion. I don't do weed (drugs) but I'm not opposed to "organics".
Here's the caveat, ANY illicit chemical concoction is absolutely out and I believe, for the record, that the people who abide in chemical drug experimentation are being absolutely reckless, ignorant and stupid. (To my friends that do chemicals, I love you...QUIT IT!)
Where was I?
Right...420. What a pathetic display! I'll get back to that in a shake (pun intended)
So I'm still on that anti-bummer drug citalopram and it seems to be helping. I liken it to a foggy car windshield. You can certainly drive the car with a muggy window but you're basing your operation of the vehicle within an opaque deficit if I can use the term. Drop a few milligrams of citalopram and it's like hitting the defogger switch. Now your decisions are based on clear, accurate information. No more conclusions made in the fog. I also have the balls to clarify information when necessary (insert ovaries if applicable)
I have a friend that has been on a cocktail of anti-depressants, anti-convulsive and anti-psychotic drugs for about 9 years. I really like him...but I often wonder who he REALLY is. Does he remember? Is that pre-dose guy a bastard? A disaster? Does he recall the gorgeous, heady odour of an apple pie cooling on a window sill in August? Do they do apple pies in skid row?
A friend of mine is on 350mg of happy drugs. I really enjoy her company! I love who she is today...
She tells me that she needs that amount. Who am I to say? What do I know. 10mg keeps this Tyro out of the Dark Places.
Like I said, I really like her...would I hang with her if she WASN'T on that dose? I think yes...but that remains to be seen. If anyone has earned Happy Drugs, its her by a long shot!
I stopped over at Steve's place. You remember Steve? Lives rough along the Fraser River, has that tent...well you should see his Shangri-La now! Buddy has a fine squat! I'd live there proudly. He found work and has even allowed a dude named Brock to "live" there for a few days until "his money starts coming in".
I'd way rather my tax money go to these guys BEFORE Harper's millionaire pals....but I digress.
Local news recently reported a fire in East Vancouver along Hastings that claimed the lives of 2 Squatters. 2 visitors to the derelict building slated for demolition to make way for the Strathcona Village condos were however rescued as they dangled from windows. They tried in vain to reach their friends, a 66 year old and her son (to be confirmed)
Every local news station is mute on this story now as backhoes clear the rubble. No flowers, no candles, no marker...no care.
Homelessness
Meanwhile in Richmond, arson claims the life of a woman and nearly kills her son. I keep hearing about THAT story!
Did I mention that the Strathcona fire was preceded by a "very loud hissing followed by a bang in the basement" ? No inquiry here...insurance claim is better than paying for demolition. (oh yes I did!)
I got a friend in the DTES who has a vice. I like him, but I hate his vice. Don't get me wrong, he's a hell of a guy standing in at 340 lbs but he can be as pissy as a picnic wasp after being swatted away from the Mennonite jello salad. The guy respects me, I call him on his bullshit and he threatens me if no one is around. He really likes my wife too.
His vice? Sex Trade Workers. He lives in a SRO hotel that is true shite and he trades a warm safe night for these women for...whatever they negotiate. I liken him to some parasitical crawler you know?
Like I said, I like him...hate the vice!
How best we govern our fondness of other humans only after we have clouded our opinions of them with our own moral code, community standard and prejudices?
To my knowledge, this guy has beaten at least 3 men because they continued to "bum" smokes off of an incredibly obese woman with mental health issues as she sat outside the local Mission. He too has a code that he lives by! He's like a Watcher of the Wretched. I tip my hat to him...but deep down I'd enjoy adjusting his attitude! God help me!
There was a room fire at recovery house for women mid last week. I stopped in as I do several times a week only to read a note on the door in big letters:
SORRY. YOU CAN NOT SLEEP HERE TONIGHT. YOU WILL HAVE TO GO TO TRIAGE, THEY HAVE ROOM. WE ARE WORKING AS FAST AS WE CAN TO CLEAN THIS UP
Ever seen Triage? What a jewell of a resource!
http://www.raincityhousing.org/what-we-do/emergency-housing/
But imagine if you will, coming home to that note. What a kick to the fragile mental well-being! Triage is amazing...but it isn't anyones home I don't think.
So...420
I've heard about this in the Grouphome, from guys on the street, the media blah blah blah but I'm a cynic. I had to see for myself. WHO is dying to get weed legal? WHO is using weed openly? WHO is hoping for change?
So I rode to the Art Gallery from work and spent 45 minutes trying to find parking. Our Mayor has really allowed City Hall to convert Vancouver into a NO CAR city. What a tool! Hard to park my motorbike? Really? ( I pay the same meter price as a car...only the City has given us designated spots. Not at a third the whack...full grab)
My heart sank as I walked thru a crush of under 20's smoking joints IN THE FACE of cops. They knew they'd not be bothered, so they acted quite appropriately like KIDS. I pressed on towards the band playing Bob Marley tunes (colour me shocked)
I passed a booth where 3 heavily tattooed clowns wearing American basketball attire amped up the sleepy crowd as they tried to keep their 1/2 pound joint lit. Is this the equivalent to chugging cokes? All I could think about was their resumes. They claim the weed has NO EFFECT on their abilities etc. So why smoke it? I'm so square! I've smoked weed once in over 2 decades. I'm talking out of my bum.
Tell ya what, tell me that you enjoy getting baked like a fresh caught trout in a cast iron skillet along the river and I'll give you my blessings...excuses? Isms? Piss off!
So on I squish.
I came upon the food trucks. What a display! I saw guys and pretty young women...girls really, attacking tacos, grilled cheese sandies, burritos and hotdogs like hyenas on a warm carcass blotting in the Serengeti Plain sun. There wasn't a crumb left on the pavement and I'm certain I heard growling! The seagulls overhead lamented at the spectacle.
Allow me to mention the Medicinal Dope Pushers.
Marc Emery didn't see this coming I'm sure! I lost track of just how many booths were set up with Medicinal Carnies calling their product. So many promises, so many jokes, so much smoke...
Who creates the names of this stuff? I can't even recall any but boy was I giggling. (contact high?)
Marc my words (sic) Walmart is gonna offer weed right after Starbucks and LuLuLemon.
So WHO was there? Best estimation has been at 15,000 humans.
I'm not a total washout at guessing ages...good grief, I've woked in the humanities for over 20 years...
I'm going to estimate that 90% of the people I saw between 4;15 and 5;35pm were under 30.
I'd go "all in" betting that 75% of those people were under 20 and 80% of THOSE people have She-Shes. I was surprised.
I was expecting Bikers, Deadheads, Hippies, and Surfbums. Nope, totally blindsided.
I'm 51 years young, I don't do drugs (mmmmm beeeeer) and I now have an accurate portrayal to support my fear of the deteriorating health of Canada. If these people are next in line to Govern, either it's gonna be a slow summer Alabama slumber or a dazed, lackadaisiacle takeover by a clever clan of cronies that don't smoke weed.
In any event, I'm sure I'll be too old to give a shit!
Peace
CAVEAT
Feel free to disagree, challenge, comment, send accolades or death threats...I'm in no way 100% correct on anything I ever write! But in THIS case....I'm right!
Monday, March 16, 2015
Live for Self
Adherents to LaVeyan Satanism changed the Golden Rule into "Do unto others as they do unto you" so that (they) are only to give compassion and sympathy to those who (in the individual's estimation) deserve it. They do not believe in Satan or God, in fact, to the Satanist, he is his own God.
Hollywood has done a real disservice to the Satanist by always falsely portraying him as a sex crazed murdering psychopath. Some Evangelical teachings have quite a different opinion altogether. The Satanist is seen as the #1 enemy of the church. In fact, I'm willing to bet that even a good majority of Satanists don't quite understand Satanism or adhere to it "rules" properly.
You know, in my humble opinion, most North American churchgoers, particularly in the USA appear to be closer to the actual definition of a Satanist rather than living out Christ's demonstration of unconditional Love for your neighbour. Dying to self (as opposed to living for self) is all but unseen in Christian circles. At least the real Satanist admits it!
And now, with THAT can of wormy Pandoric box opened, let me continue...
Surrey (given City status in 1993) has been in the News too often lately. You know, that kind of News that makes "good copy". Negative News, Horrific News, Frightening News, unsettling News etc. Surrey will never, so it would seem, let us down with sensational News.
Whats your flavour? Gang drive-by shootings, gang murders, drugs, arson, murder, sexual assaults, B&E's, child abduction, grow-ops, illegal suites, corruption, 4 hour wait times at Surrey Memorial Hospital, random violence on transit, car chases, races and crashes? In fact, CTV News named Surrey the car theft capital of North America in 2002. It's all there amongst half a million Surreyites packed neatly into 122 square miles of area that was not too long ago, mostly farm land.
To be fair, not all of Surrey is bad (so I'm told) in fact, some of Her ethnic gang mentality seems to have crossed the river into my area of East Vancouver. Groups of South Asians (proven by news/police charges not based on prejudice) are beginning to fight and race around South Vancouver hurting each other and Asian gang members from Richmond. (again...verified).
Back to that tenant of Satanism: "Do unto others as they do unto you." AS YOU SO DECIDE WHO IS WORTHY (author's addition) This is left wide open to interpretation isn't it? Give compassion to those you decide are worthy of it. Give mercy only to the Ones deserving it based upon your own prejudice of skin colour, type of motorbike they ride, wealth, religion, former home on the planet, job status whether or not they stand up to piss....
Seems silly and arbitrary when you ponder it doesn't it? Alas, thats what a true Satanist does...so my research suggests.
Now, back to the nice people in the church. Whenever there is a need, a true "hey, can you come out and lend a hand" kind of need, you can always count on the same 8% to muck in. Believe me, I've seen it first hand in 4 different churches in 4 different areas where I was heavily involved with the people of the community.
So, why is it that the church points to Satanists as a threat and Satanists point to the church as archaic and failed?
Why do we really care what others think?
What of the people that are not involved in any "faith group"? Do they muck in more or about the same as everyone else?
There was a guy pushing a shopping cart of belongings along a road at 3:30 am and he was hit from behind by a Semi truck and trailer. Yes, he was in the road...but the truck driver didn't stop! Better still is the PT Cruiser driver that passed by the carnage all across the street less than 10 minutes later. Rest easy gentle reader, CCTV footage has been able to help Police locate the truck driver. The PT driver is next.
Lots of Love displayed there huh?
What about me? I must admit, if you're having difficulty in any kind of situation, I won't hesitate to help you. Rain or shine, day or night, Surrey or Disneyland...unless you're in a luxury car dressed to the hilt!
So yeah...I identify with this problem, too.
My ignorant rationalization is that if you've got that much money, you can pay someone to help you out which in turn helps them out. I'll stick to assisting the slob that barely makes ends meet (unless of course I know you and Love you, then I don't care if you're rich or poor) The snag here is that I must first generalize and assume...
What about you? Where do you fit in? Do you help everyone? No-one? Some people? GASP! Are you a Satanist or Surreyite?
This thing called life sure is tricky isn't it?
Peace
Hollywood has done a real disservice to the Satanist by always falsely portraying him as a sex crazed murdering psychopath. Some Evangelical teachings have quite a different opinion altogether. The Satanist is seen as the #1 enemy of the church. In fact, I'm willing to bet that even a good majority of Satanists don't quite understand Satanism or adhere to it "rules" properly.
You know, in my humble opinion, most North American churchgoers, particularly in the USA appear to be closer to the actual definition of a Satanist rather than living out Christ's demonstration of unconditional Love for your neighbour. Dying to self (as opposed to living for self) is all but unseen in Christian circles. At least the real Satanist admits it!
And now, with THAT can of wormy Pandoric box opened, let me continue...
Surrey (given City status in 1993) has been in the News too often lately. You know, that kind of News that makes "good copy". Negative News, Horrific News, Frightening News, unsettling News etc. Surrey will never, so it would seem, let us down with sensational News.
Whats your flavour? Gang drive-by shootings, gang murders, drugs, arson, murder, sexual assaults, B&E's, child abduction, grow-ops, illegal suites, corruption, 4 hour wait times at Surrey Memorial Hospital, random violence on transit, car chases, races and crashes? In fact, CTV News named Surrey the car theft capital of North America in 2002. It's all there amongst half a million Surreyites packed neatly into 122 square miles of area that was not too long ago, mostly farm land.
To be fair, not all of Surrey is bad (so I'm told) in fact, some of Her ethnic gang mentality seems to have crossed the river into my area of East Vancouver. Groups of South Asians (proven by news/police charges not based on prejudice) are beginning to fight and race around South Vancouver hurting each other and Asian gang members from Richmond. (again...verified).
Back to that tenant of Satanism: "Do unto others as they do unto you." AS YOU SO DECIDE WHO IS WORTHY (author's addition) This is left wide open to interpretation isn't it? Give compassion to those you decide are worthy of it. Give mercy only to the Ones deserving it based upon your own prejudice of skin colour, type of motorbike they ride, wealth, religion, former home on the planet, job status whether or not they stand up to piss....
Seems silly and arbitrary when you ponder it doesn't it? Alas, thats what a true Satanist does...so my research suggests.
Now, back to the nice people in the church. Whenever there is a need, a true "hey, can you come out and lend a hand" kind of need, you can always count on the same 8% to muck in. Believe me, I've seen it first hand in 4 different churches in 4 different areas where I was heavily involved with the people of the community.
So, why is it that the church points to Satanists as a threat and Satanists point to the church as archaic and failed?
Why do we really care what others think?
What of the people that are not involved in any "faith group"? Do they muck in more or about the same as everyone else?
There was a guy pushing a shopping cart of belongings along a road at 3:30 am and he was hit from behind by a Semi truck and trailer. Yes, he was in the road...but the truck driver didn't stop! Better still is the PT Cruiser driver that passed by the carnage all across the street less than 10 minutes later. Rest easy gentle reader, CCTV footage has been able to help Police locate the truck driver. The PT driver is next.
Lots of Love displayed there huh?
What about me? I must admit, if you're having difficulty in any kind of situation, I won't hesitate to help you. Rain or shine, day or night, Surrey or Disneyland...unless you're in a luxury car dressed to the hilt!
So yeah...I identify with this problem, too.
My ignorant rationalization is that if you've got that much money, you can pay someone to help you out which in turn helps them out. I'll stick to assisting the slob that barely makes ends meet (unless of course I know you and Love you, then I don't care if you're rich or poor) The snag here is that I must first generalize and assume...
What about you? Where do you fit in? Do you help everyone? No-one? Some people? GASP! Are you a Satanist or Surreyite?
This thing called life sure is tricky isn't it?
Peace
Sunday, March 8, 2015
left out but important none the less
Theres a guy I know that i've nicknamed The Undertaker which is very fitting if you see him and the bonus is that he really likes the handle. We're friends and he asks if he can come with me on the truck as my swamper regularly. I don't mind the company. I buy us 7-11 coffees and the occasional "kiss me quick" lunches. I can't afford to get us lunch every day but I would if I could. He rants about fast food. A rare treat for him...a pleasure to watch him salivate over food I usually target for some slanderous Facebook posts.
You've met him in past posts.
The reason I mention him is because he's lonely. He has no friends and is left out of absolutely everything. He suffers depression to a degree that makes my own diagnosis seem like a bad passing memory by comparison. I'm on meds, he's on disability, plus a cocktail of meds, regular specialist visits, MIR's and regular scans to monitor his brain activity.
He used to have seizures, LOTS of them but brain surgery has made them dormant for the time being.
When he isn't with me, he walks around Vancouver looking at buildings and girls while being genuinely nice to all comers. Or he lays on his bed in his room for hours on end wishing that he had somewhere to be. Go pace out a 12x12 area in your home and think about living in that space for 3 years. He does that day in, day out. His space is tiny. He is 6 foot 4.
Every work day, I go to this one grocery store in a chain to pick up day old pastries that they donate to the organization I drive for. The staff are friendly in spite of dealing with many rude entitled customers day in day out that seem to have all but forgotten kindness. Difficult for this blabbermouth to hold his tongue most days.
Anyway, theres this older woman in a tiny kiosk selling BC Lottery Association tickets and misnamed Scratch and Win cards. She looks pathetically lonely! Her starving eyes scan passersby but her tractor beam doesn't engage many. I see her 5 times a week and occasionally save my weekly lottery ticket for her to check. She's very friendly, professional and is always smiling...when someone is with her. Otherwise, to me it looks as if she is on the verge of tears. Maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it!
When was the last time that you were left out of something? Friends didn't call but went to a movie, family members got together for a meal, mates from work went to lunch, the guys hit the pub, coffee with the girls that you didn't hear about...
It sucks doesn't it? Those moments when you're on the outside, not included even though you know for a fact that you're very important and likable.
I know what that feels like. Worse still, is that I know that I have friends that know what that feels like! We al get lonely!
Theres a guy that hangs outside my local Government liquor store begging for coins. He gets pretty chatty when you let him and he greets every single person with a "hello" or a "good day" He has a tin plate on his lap for coins should you feel gracious with any change, but he NEVER asks.
I've spent time chatting with him. Sometimes it's difficult to understand him but his eyes are always beaming. He says that he gets cold and lonely.
Saying that he hangs out at the liquor store is misleading, I'm sorry.
He's confined to a mobile bed/chair and can only move his head, right arm and hand. He's usually wrapped in blankets. I'll ask him his story next time, after all, he knows that I see him.
It's a new week tomorrow, we've sprung ahead! Bright eyed and bushy tailed! Call someone, visit someone. Go outdoors and sit with a pensioner and ask them how they are. You may want to take a pad and pencil...I'm guessing they'll be a story to retell.
Peace
You've met him in past posts.
The reason I mention him is because he's lonely. He has no friends and is left out of absolutely everything. He suffers depression to a degree that makes my own diagnosis seem like a bad passing memory by comparison. I'm on meds, he's on disability, plus a cocktail of meds, regular specialist visits, MIR's and regular scans to monitor his brain activity.
He used to have seizures, LOTS of them but brain surgery has made them dormant for the time being.
When he isn't with me, he walks around Vancouver looking at buildings and girls while being genuinely nice to all comers. Or he lays on his bed in his room for hours on end wishing that he had somewhere to be. Go pace out a 12x12 area in your home and think about living in that space for 3 years. He does that day in, day out. His space is tiny. He is 6 foot 4.
Every work day, I go to this one grocery store in a chain to pick up day old pastries that they donate to the organization I drive for. The staff are friendly in spite of dealing with many rude entitled customers day in day out that seem to have all but forgotten kindness. Difficult for this blabbermouth to hold his tongue most days.
Anyway, theres this older woman in a tiny kiosk selling BC Lottery Association tickets and misnamed Scratch and Win cards. She looks pathetically lonely! Her starving eyes scan passersby but her tractor beam doesn't engage many. I see her 5 times a week and occasionally save my weekly lottery ticket for her to check. She's very friendly, professional and is always smiling...when someone is with her. Otherwise, to me it looks as if she is on the verge of tears. Maybe I'm wrong, but I doubt it!
When was the last time that you were left out of something? Friends didn't call but went to a movie, family members got together for a meal, mates from work went to lunch, the guys hit the pub, coffee with the girls that you didn't hear about...
It sucks doesn't it? Those moments when you're on the outside, not included even though you know for a fact that you're very important and likable.
I know what that feels like. Worse still, is that I know that I have friends that know what that feels like! We al get lonely!
Theres a guy that hangs outside my local Government liquor store begging for coins. He gets pretty chatty when you let him and he greets every single person with a "hello" or a "good day" He has a tin plate on his lap for coins should you feel gracious with any change, but he NEVER asks.
I've spent time chatting with him. Sometimes it's difficult to understand him but his eyes are always beaming. He says that he gets cold and lonely.
Saying that he hangs out at the liquor store is misleading, I'm sorry.
He's confined to a mobile bed/chair and can only move his head, right arm and hand. He's usually wrapped in blankets. I'll ask him his story next time, after all, he knows that I see him.
It's a new week tomorrow, we've sprung ahead! Bright eyed and bushy tailed! Call someone, visit someone. Go outdoors and sit with a pensioner and ask them how they are. You may want to take a pad and pencil...I'm guessing they'll be a story to retell.
Peace
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Peaceful Resting
So I was driving the truck the other day. I had the Undertaker as my swamper. You remember the Undertaker. He stands 6' 4", weighs about 220, and frightens children the minute they see him in the dark. He's the guy that had his skull surgically removed so they could remove 2 grams of his brain in order to alter whatever it was that gave him chronic seizures. He actually told me about the procedure. He was awake the whole time. He felt nothing, he told jokes, but he did feel pressure as they stapled his skull cap back together. Anyway, I digress. The Undertaker lives in the Laurel Apartments. This building should probably be burnt down due to rats, bedbugs, lice...you get the idea...but the Undertaker is happy.
So he's in the truck with me the other day and we dropped lunch program goods at a school in Burnaby. As we're coming down Royal Oak I mention that Oakalla Prison Farm used to be on the right, and Harry worked there. Harry BSed them on the interview and ended up in a tower with a shotgun and a sidearm as the inmates grazed cattle, herded pigs, and whatever else they did on the farm. The prison is long-gone and there's townhouses there. I wonder if the tenants hear voices at night crying, wailing. One of our last executions occurred in Oakalla, if memory serves correct. They shut this archaic building in '92.
So the Undertaker is looking at the townhouses and the lower grassy meadow that used to be farmland, and he wonders if there was any rehabilitation. As you begin to drive uphill northbound on Royal Oak, Forest Lawn Cemetery is on your left. Harry used to call that hill "The hill of the dead and the forgotten". There are so many flowers and wreaths and flags and momentos in this graveyard. I have to do mental gymnastics to look upon hundreds and hundreds of dead with beauty laid on top of them. The Undertaker wondered why anyone would want to be buried in the dirt. He figures we should all be recycled in organ donor scientific study.
As we carry on our way, we ended up in Vancouver's DTES. This is where the Undertaker lives and this is where he walks around and tries to inject happiness into other people's lives. He laments because he understands that so many people down here have 2 options. They've come out of prison and they are heading to that graveyard. He wonders why in one of the richest countries, in one of the most prosperous provinces, the current government turns their back on human beings. The Undertaker usually talks endlessly, continuously...it's all to do with his meds and his surgeries, but as we drove past the hurting, invisible desperate people he fell silent. I have never heard him say nothing.
Peace.
So he's in the truck with me the other day and we dropped lunch program goods at a school in Burnaby. As we're coming down Royal Oak I mention that Oakalla Prison Farm used to be on the right, and Harry worked there. Harry BSed them on the interview and ended up in a tower with a shotgun and a sidearm as the inmates grazed cattle, herded pigs, and whatever else they did on the farm. The prison is long-gone and there's townhouses there. I wonder if the tenants hear voices at night crying, wailing. One of our last executions occurred in Oakalla, if memory serves correct. They shut this archaic building in '92.
So the Undertaker is looking at the townhouses and the lower grassy meadow that used to be farmland, and he wonders if there was any rehabilitation. As you begin to drive uphill northbound on Royal Oak, Forest Lawn Cemetery is on your left. Harry used to call that hill "The hill of the dead and the forgotten". There are so many flowers and wreaths and flags and momentos in this graveyard. I have to do mental gymnastics to look upon hundreds and hundreds of dead with beauty laid on top of them. The Undertaker wondered why anyone would want to be buried in the dirt. He figures we should all be recycled in organ donor scientific study.
As we carry on our way, we ended up in Vancouver's DTES. This is where the Undertaker lives and this is where he walks around and tries to inject happiness into other people's lives. He laments because he understands that so many people down here have 2 options. They've come out of prison and they are heading to that graveyard. He wonders why in one of the richest countries, in one of the most prosperous provinces, the current government turns their back on human beings. The Undertaker usually talks endlessly, continuously...it's all to do with his meds and his surgeries, but as we drove past the hurting, invisible desperate people he fell silent. I have never heard him say nothing.
Peace.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Whats it all abut Alphie
I saw a new Lamborghini with the graduated BC drivers licence mandatory "L" designation on it today. Lime green, the colour of the sleek unit, isn't my favourite choice of the hue, but then again Ferrucci Lamborghini's followers don't design cars that interest me. To each his/her own I guess.
So I'm guessing the Lambo comes in at $400+K and buddy is a new driver in BC.
He may be young or mature, seasoned driver or novice...but in BC, he's new and he drove as if he was.
The thing boasts between 500 and 700 horsepower which means 0 to 100km in like 2 seconds...but I digress.
Buddy didn't signal when swapping lanes on Hastings and he raced to every red light. My work truck chugs along and I don't speed...we met at each light. Maybe I'm an idiot, but if I spent large bank on a car, I'd drive with loads more deliberate care! In fact, I do!
A&W is running a special, Mama burger combo for $5. I had The Undertaker with me swamping today. You recall him yes? He's had brain surgery, suffers depression and lives in a shitty manky SRO in Vancouver's infamous DTES...anyway, I bought him lunch.
Again, with all due respect to Allen and Wright, that food isn't amazing...but The Undertaker LOVES it and it's a treat.
He's been to the restaurant twice in about 10 years due to lack of money. I've been with him on both occasions.
I had root beer, he had coffee with the combo.
GRAPHIC ALERT
The Undertaker used to have on average, 60 seizures a day and the brain professionals couldn't figure out why. After much thought (ironic) they decided to poke at his brain. Whilst he was awake and aware, they sawed a portion of his skull off to expose his gray matter. He tells me that he heard the "crunching" but felt nothing.
Anyway, his brain is 2 grams lighter than when he went in. Seizures continued, blah blah blah.....
Then one day, they stopped! The Complete Brained people can't figure out why. He doesn't care. He has "normal life" to show for it and hand tremors. ( I love buying him overfull coffees to watch him shake and spill them)
He suffers major depression but has decided to be my unpaid Truck Monkey 5 days a week because " I help him see things better". Brother...you're teaching me!
He stirs his coffee counter clockwise. Who does that?
Last week along the bitter portion of Hastings street, 2 guys approached him in order to sell him some hash. (I didn't know that hash was still around. My go-to drug 20+ years ago) He took a look and asked how much. They said $30 and he laughed and said maybe $10 and walked away. He smokes weed when he can afford it. A guy in skid row sells him shake. He's found hair, a penny, twist ties and crumbs in it. He suspects the shake is swept up off of some kitchen floor. Works for him he says, low tolerance...
Anyway, these 2 idiots stat following him taunting him at 6:15 in the blessed am. He turns and politely says "go away"
The undertaker is 6 foot 5 and the nickname I've given him fits like a glove! He LOOKS like a mortician. So these guys carry...and he gets agitated. Those Happy Drugs that we're both on can't always mellow out adrenaline.
He throws one guy rolling into the street (too early for heavy traffic. Bad planning) and bounces the other guy off of a brick wall. He continues walking to meet me whilst these tuff guys are licking their wounds.
The reason I tell you this is because I want you to see how The Undertaker dealt with it.
He was sad. Filled with remorse. He hated that he raised his hand to these two guys. He didn't come on the truck that day. He walked home to his bedbug infested room and lay on his bed for about 17 hours.
The other day, I went with Paula to the Cannibal Cafe on Commercial drive. Wing Wednesdays. $5 wings and beer. For a moment I agonized over what flavour I wanted my pound of chicken arms. I eventually made my choice. The beer was an easy one to make.
(there's a theme in this post)
We hired a guy that said that he had several years driving truck. Nice guy, worked hard in the warehouse and he seemed to be keen. You needn't be a genius to drive truck on hi ways, but in the inner creases of Vancouver, it takes a bit of skill. I log 60km every day in the city and I love it. I could have swapped my run for hiway/warehouse loading when they hired the new guy, but I declined. My day is full of humans, traffic and hand bombing product. No warehousemen loading pallets on my truck.
So the new guy is on day 4 and my boss lets him drive hiway while he sits shotgun. Success! I get in early but have1 more pick up to do. I ask if he can come to see where yet another vender is, granted.
I let him drive because the boss did earlier.
11 minutes later during a right turn into an alley, he peels off the front end of a $46K Mercedes.
I've driven professionally longer than not, I'm thinking he wasn't a truck driver.
They let him go.
Choices.
We all make choices hundreds of times each day, from picking cherries or corn flakes to lying to the awkward friend and telling him you're busy tonight.
But who else is affect by our choices? Can we have a prejudiced mind over the choices of others?
Lime green exotic car. Really? Bright pink Liberty Mowhawk? LuLuLemon for everyday wear?
A&W for lunch?
Or our BIG choices, think of those ones...
Throwing a large rock into a pond is harmless...it's the ripples that warrant concern.
Peace
So I'm guessing the Lambo comes in at $400+K and buddy is a new driver in BC.
He may be young or mature, seasoned driver or novice...but in BC, he's new and he drove as if he was.
The thing boasts between 500 and 700 horsepower which means 0 to 100km in like 2 seconds...but I digress.
Buddy didn't signal when swapping lanes on Hastings and he raced to every red light. My work truck chugs along and I don't speed...we met at each light. Maybe I'm an idiot, but if I spent large bank on a car, I'd drive with loads more deliberate care! In fact, I do!
A&W is running a special, Mama burger combo for $5. I had The Undertaker with me swamping today. You recall him yes? He's had brain surgery, suffers depression and lives in a shitty manky SRO in Vancouver's infamous DTES...anyway, I bought him lunch.
Again, with all due respect to Allen and Wright, that food isn't amazing...but The Undertaker LOVES it and it's a treat.
He's been to the restaurant twice in about 10 years due to lack of money. I've been with him on both occasions.
I had root beer, he had coffee with the combo.
GRAPHIC ALERT
The Undertaker used to have on average, 60 seizures a day and the brain professionals couldn't figure out why. After much thought (ironic) they decided to poke at his brain. Whilst he was awake and aware, they sawed a portion of his skull off to expose his gray matter. He tells me that he heard the "crunching" but felt nothing.
Anyway, his brain is 2 grams lighter than when he went in. Seizures continued, blah blah blah.....
Then one day, they stopped! The Complete Brained people can't figure out why. He doesn't care. He has "normal life" to show for it and hand tremors. ( I love buying him overfull coffees to watch him shake and spill them)
He suffers major depression but has decided to be my unpaid Truck Monkey 5 days a week because " I help him see things better". Brother...you're teaching me!
He stirs his coffee counter clockwise. Who does that?
Last week along the bitter portion of Hastings street, 2 guys approached him in order to sell him some hash. (I didn't know that hash was still around. My go-to drug 20+ years ago) He took a look and asked how much. They said $30 and he laughed and said maybe $10 and walked away. He smokes weed when he can afford it. A guy in skid row sells him shake. He's found hair, a penny, twist ties and crumbs in it. He suspects the shake is swept up off of some kitchen floor. Works for him he says, low tolerance...
Anyway, these 2 idiots stat following him taunting him at 6:15 in the blessed am. He turns and politely says "go away"
The undertaker is 6 foot 5 and the nickname I've given him fits like a glove! He LOOKS like a mortician. So these guys carry...and he gets agitated. Those Happy Drugs that we're both on can't always mellow out adrenaline.
He throws one guy rolling into the street (too early for heavy traffic. Bad planning) and bounces the other guy off of a brick wall. He continues walking to meet me whilst these tuff guys are licking their wounds.
The reason I tell you this is because I want you to see how The Undertaker dealt with it.
He was sad. Filled with remorse. He hated that he raised his hand to these two guys. He didn't come on the truck that day. He walked home to his bedbug infested room and lay on his bed for about 17 hours.
The other day, I went with Paula to the Cannibal Cafe on Commercial drive. Wing Wednesdays. $5 wings and beer. For a moment I agonized over what flavour I wanted my pound of chicken arms. I eventually made my choice. The beer was an easy one to make.
(there's a theme in this post)
We hired a guy that said that he had several years driving truck. Nice guy, worked hard in the warehouse and he seemed to be keen. You needn't be a genius to drive truck on hi ways, but in the inner creases of Vancouver, it takes a bit of skill. I log 60km every day in the city and I love it. I could have swapped my run for hiway/warehouse loading when they hired the new guy, but I declined. My day is full of humans, traffic and hand bombing product. No warehousemen loading pallets on my truck.
So the new guy is on day 4 and my boss lets him drive hiway while he sits shotgun. Success! I get in early but have1 more pick up to do. I ask if he can come to see where yet another vender is, granted.
I let him drive because the boss did earlier.
11 minutes later during a right turn into an alley, he peels off the front end of a $46K Mercedes.
I've driven professionally longer than not, I'm thinking he wasn't a truck driver.
They let him go.
Choices.
We all make choices hundreds of times each day, from picking cherries or corn flakes to lying to the awkward friend and telling him you're busy tonight.
But who else is affect by our choices? Can we have a prejudiced mind over the choices of others?
Lime green exotic car. Really? Bright pink Liberty Mowhawk? LuLuLemon for everyday wear?
A&W for lunch?
Or our BIG choices, think of those ones...
Throwing a large rock into a pond is harmless...it's the ripples that warrant concern.
Peace
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