credo quia absurdum est*

Some where between the paradise that’s promised to the holy

And everlasting fires where the wicked suffer slowly

There’s a soul sanctuary where the would be saints unwind….

That’s from a song by John Carroll , it’s a nice portrait of a bar we both would go to , him more often than I would.

I have found myself considering more and more the time I spent in Ottawa,

I actually think it may have been some of my best times, and because I’ve been thinking about dickens as well …

Some of my worst times.

I was performing, it was my sole income, it was long days, exhausting summers, and then killer winters that would make me hole up in my home and pingpong around like ice on acid. But mostly I was okay. There was a balance of keeping to myself and having a fantastic circle of friends. They were a bit elitist, but so was I. they drank too much, and I drank with them. But when the season was over , and I retired back home, they let me be. Until the next season and we would start it all over.

We sang and talked and got high and got drunk, we ate Chinese food and had parties and worked and shilled the tourists, we earned honest dollars and dishonest change. We always kept an eye to the sky, cursed bad weather, and had bad waether curse us. We were sunburned and dishevelled and a little notorious, our own piece of the center of the city carved along the streets in the pavement. Cops knew us and would chat, Drug dealers tipped us and street people watched our backs, and we answered in kindness and sandwiches and 2 litre bottles filled with pennies. We got ripped off, and we got even and we got what we deserved. There were beaver tails and sushi and redbull and beer and wine and tequila and now… memories.

Winter in the valley was all snow and ice and cold and dark. The first one almost took me, there were thoughts of razor blades or pills… there were tears and sadness, and there were girls, a slow procession of them , each as sweet as they were bitter. It was the winter and the girls that taught me about self reliance. About keeping people at arms length and needing only what I could get myself. This is an overly harsh lesson to learn to begin with but turns into a calm and kind thing.

Some lessons fade with time, and you forget the burns that made them real. Everything fades, scars and memories. And they need to be learned again. Until the memories criss cross your skin with the layers below forgotten.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a world where the people who I wanted to like could read my mind and know when I need to be held, and when I need to be alone. I wish the people who come to me for a reaffirmation and help and support and that rush of blood to their skin, didn’t all take their arousal to someone else.. Like I’m a pimp who pays the price and everyone around me ends up covered in sweat and lost in lust. I wish .. I wish.

Truth is I can give myself what I need. And I need to be reminded of that, the universe has a way of telling you what is important. After a while it’ll start again.. But right now I’m okay. And wishing isn’t bad, but remembering the line between a wish and a goal is important.

* i believe it because it is absurd