notanotherphony.

still struggling to find the right medications but some days are much better than others and other days are much worse than others.  but I am very aware that what is needed most in my life is to fulfill my purpose.  to fulfill my dream.  to allow my passions to take over and fight for every inch of that passion.  every minute of that purpose.  a purpose that has been with me for years but having adhd my mind wanders and my passions expand.

in the midst of chaos and noise and speeding cars and dangerous trucks with loudmouths running countries and facebook experts on politics and environment and one side calling the other side “racists” and the other side calling the other side “snowflakes” some much needed human heart and human soul is my answer.  my purpose.  TELL POWERFUL STORIES THAT MAKE PEOPLE FEEL.

REAL PEOPLE.

REAL STORIES.

REAL EMOTIONS.

plain and simple.  we have too many distractions in our world.  too many people chasing TOO MUCH.  and this TOO MUCH is getting in the way of the human heart.  human soul.  our world is too fast.  one tragedy is forgotten while another begins.  then the politicians fight among themselves and try to use their power and so called intelligence (mostly bluster) to get across their useless message that avoids heart.  avoids soul.

human stories over big explosions.

human stories over comic books.

human stories over super heroes.

less fighting and more loving.

there are better stories in our own lives than a year full of fake Hollywood productions.

fast.  fast.  fast.  noise.  noise.  noise.  elections running rampant.  political ideologies.  mass shootings.  poverty.  racism.  sexism.  anger.  hatred.  lack of love.  lack of connection.  lack of communication.  facebook likes and IG followers more important than real love.  real connection.

texting is NOT communicating.  it is not connection.  hiding in fake houses with fake cars and watching fake shows with fake friends and fake neighbours.  fake hair.  fake face.  fake bodies.  fake words coming out of fake mouths with shattered hearts and non existent parents who have been lost in their own minds.  their own fears.  their own struggles.  struggles everywhere but never changing.  a never changing life that leads to old age and then death.  sometimes regret kicks in and many times you just die.

I need to block out the ridiculous amount of distractions and tell my powerful stories that are smothered in REALITY.

REAL PEOPLE.

REAL STORIES.

REAL EMOTION.

FUCK THE PHONIES.

FUCK THE FAKE.

FUCK THE LIARS.

FUCK THE STATUS QUO.

DEATH.

DULL.

CONNECT.

another week down.  how many more left?

fight.

love.

connect.

listen.

engage.

challenge.

communicate.

open up.

speak the truth.

LIVE.

so everyone tells me to stay off of social media and stay away from the television and get off the internet and so on and so on but then I miss major events like the horrific shootings in Pittsburgh and feel cold.  lost.  unaware.  selfish.  are we being taught to be selfish?  are we being taught to not care?  we have average leaders.  we have average sporting associations with average coaches.  an average school system with many average teachers who are either average because of the system or were always average.  average acting.  average singing.  average movies.  average music.  so many events and so little real empathy.  facebook empathy and rip posts come daily but real love and real connection is lost.  human connection is being squandered as we move further and further away from cities.  away from people.  away from excitement.  away from art.  away from life.  crammed into tiny houses with tiny yards all fighting for the few parking spots available on the street.  and yet we don’t know our neighbours.  never had drinks together.  know nothing about them.  all of us going through life as if we have nine lives but all of us getting closer and closer to death without a fight.  without a fire.  without a desire to change.  changes needed but complacency winning and lost lives are becoming more lost and more sad.  more complacent.  less fire.  more food.  more facebook and IG and less real connection.  less real talks.  less real emotion.  less humanity and less love.  less thought.  less talk.  less hair.  less balls.  less FIRE.  less FIRE.  LESS FIRE.  do not let the puppets drag you down.  drag me down.  fight for what you believe in but fight.  I live in a small town where people elect an average mayor who vows, like every other politician, that he will lower taxes.  lower taxes.  that is all he said.  that he would lower taxes.  an average man with an average goatee and an average mind with an average heart and an average soul.  but this man beats out another man.  a younger man with bigger dreams.  bigger ideas.  smarter ideas.  bigger charisma.  smarter.  more passionate.  more fire.  a man with a plan.  a real plan to make this town better.  more vibrant.  more alive.  but NO.  the peasants vote for the average.  the dull.  the sad.  the dull.  four more years of average in a town filled with average.  filled with complacency.  filled with rule abiders and church goers.  a town filled with people pleasers and McDonald eating Coors Light drinking men in big trucks but small penises.  women in fake lululemon pants and sagging tits.  hair salons and churches more prevalent than real theatre.  real art.  real music.  a small community of Outliers squashed by big trucks with small minds and smaller souls.  and we put up with this in this small town.  but then I think about our country and our friends to the south and our premier and realize that we are all fucked.  all lost.  less reading.  less human connection.  less conversations.  less passions.  less activism.  less accountability.  less passion.  less fire.  less life and now we sit in tim hortons with our so called friends and we pretend to have fun.  pretend to laugh.  pretend to care.  all pretending.  pretending to live in a life that is meant for living.

major changes needed.

human connection needed.

less sitting.

more doing.

more loving.

more drinking.

more experimenting.  stop saying “NO” and start living…again.

life will be gone in a flash.

we can sit on a couch.

sit in a garage.

or we can FIGHT.

PLAY.

HAVE FUN.

DO.

LIVE.

WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

lost.  confused.  frustrated.  frustrated with myself.  frustrated with family.  frustrated with the system we live in.  frustrated with my brain.  frustrated with life.  a never ending cycle of mental issues.  emotional issues.  car issues.  work issues.  love issues.  life issues.  parenting is not for the faint of heart.  nor is marriage.  nor is working for yourself.  challenging the system.  fifty one years old and still trying to figure out the proper medications to focus my brain.  focus my life.  uppers.  downers.  sidewinders.  back to uppers.  back to downers.  then a sidetrack to nothingness.  nothing but hikes and tea and exercise and hugs and kisses and reading books and meditating and taking classes and watching TED Talks and then more tea and then sleep.  attempt to sleep.  toss and turn.  toss and turn.  toss and turn.  then more classes.  a few successes but the successes still filled with extreme fears and extreme anxieties no matter how much chamomile tea I drink.  no matter how many pills I take.  the cycle continues.  the hikes continue. the frustrations continue.

I am tired.  I am sick.  I am hopeful but the hope slowly falling to the ground like a leaf falls to the ground in the Fall.  slow and winding but still falling.  the beautiful music helps.  the incessant speeders do not.  driving becoming a health hazard with so many fast cars and big bold trucks driving like it is their last day on earth.  riding your tail.  then riding mine.  then speeding up to the next car.  the next truck.  in.  out.  in.  out.  up the ass of this car.  up the ass of that car.  and all for what?  to get to their shitty jobs that they hate to make half assed money that they then spend on their trucks and their shitty houses and possibly shitty vacations.  such sad lives.  such meaningless lives.  such typical lives in a typical society.  so depressing as everyone is so depressed.  lost art.  lost community.  lost passions.  lost love.  lost communication.  everyone is lost but instead of connecting they are drifting further and further apart due to facebook and Instagram.

where are the real artists?

where are the activists?

where are the crazy ones?

where are the lovers of life?  the lovers of love.

one life to live.  one life to love.

at the moment it appears sad.

sad.

scattered.

confused.

hope.

hope for less politics and more art.  but REAL ART.  not shitty Canadian tv shows and shitty Hollywood films.  zero art.  ALL COMMERCE.

but the puppets fall into the dark hole.

but the dark hole is still wide open for the artists.

more feeling.

less thinking.

take in life.

take it in without fear.

CREATE.

tired.  depressed.  slow.  feelings of hopelessness.  feelings of despair.  feelings of loneliness.  feelings of abandonment.  lost.  confused.  cluttered mind.  cluttered heart.  sweaty then cold.  horny.  manic.  afraid.  constantly afraid.  immobile but constantly moving.  daily planner going unused.  frustrating to family but frustrated myself.  same issues.  same problems.  constant cycle that leads to nowhere.  back to square one.  back to the books.  back to the pills.  back to the meditations.  back to the booze.  back to slowing down and feeling dull.  feeling bored.  but the dull and boring feelings are better than the manic depressed feelings.  and one more day down the drain.  how many are left?  where is the love?  where is the support?  love and support falling by the wayside the way my dad once fell by the wayside.  back to the psychiatrist.  back to talking and talking but remaining in a vicious cycle of shame.  cycle of pain.  stuck in a remote town in the middle of nowhere offering up hikes, runs, cycles, and Starbucks.  but I remain frozen.  frozen in pain.  frozen in fear.  frozen in lost loves and long time memories.  reading books that I never finish.  writing scripts that I never finish.  skipping auditions.  skipping my medications.  skipping through life as life passes me by.  lost.  still lost.  still confused.  still abandoned.  still tired.  tired.  alone.  forgetful.  weak.  realizing that I have never learned how to do anything.  I can’t cook.  I can’t change a lightbulb.  I can’t put on a spare tire on my car.  I can’t really do much and yet I try to pass my great knowledge onto others.  I try to help when I can’t help myself.  adhd.  anxiety.  depression.  manic depressive.  hypo manic.  dyslexic.  ptsd.  are these all excuses?  are they real?  mental illness still so confusing to so many including myself.  shame sets in again as people look at me with disgust in their eyes.  coldness in their hearts.  years ago my dad suddenly died.  so did my nana.  she died a month after my dad.  a month after that my Mom collapsed on our upstairs bathroom floor.  too many tranquillizers.  too much pain.  a few years later I was sexually abused.  a few years after that I drank way too much.  I ended up in jails and addiction facilities.  I experienced lots of frustration.  lots of shame.  I felt shit about myself.  others thought that I was shit.  life constantly going on for everyone.  my dad buried underground.  long forgotten by most.  love.  where is the love?  where is the love?  where is the love?  what happens to people when they get older?  do their hearts shrivel up?  do they get shattered.  pain and drama and anxiety and stress and bills and children issues and car issues and hair issues and school issues and more money issues and more family issues but life keeps moving.  it never stops until you stop.  until you die.  and death is closer and life is more confusing.  lists and lists and lists and goals and goals and goals.  life goals and daily lists and at the end of the week…NOTHING.  just wasting my life away   wasting it away with bad shows and bad food.  a life that once had so much promise getting pushed further and further into defeat.  solutions?  answers?  hope?  mental illness or excuses?  shame?  guilt?  head still cluttered.  heart still cluttered.  everything sore.  everything cluttered.  cluttered house and cluttered life equals zero productivity.  LOTS OF FEAR.  LOTS OF FEAR.  LOTS OF FEAR.  FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS?  FEAR IN LOATHING IN ORANGE VEGAS?  everyone has an answer and yet I see no answers.  talent wasted.  but I am dizzy.  I am confused.  I am frightened.  I am lost.  I am sad.  I am afraid.  I will now go to bed and try to fall asleep.

I really really really feel bad for Taylor.  such an amazing kid.  “I’m sorry.”

I’m fifty one years old and sitting in a small town with a small family.  I have a beautiful wife and a special gift of a daughter.  I am healthy.  so is my family.  I exercise daily.  I drink daily.  I read daily.  I am constantly in need of excitement and constantly in need of touch.  sound, smell, taste, and sight also play a big part of my life.  I try to be the best husband I can be.  I try to be the best Dad as well.  I love life.  I love friends.  I love family even when they are annoying.  I love misfits.  I love chaos.  I love music.  I love LOVE.  I can still get a hard on without pills and that brings a smile to my face.  I am fifty one years old.  still married.  no divorces.  many close calls but hung in for better or for worse.  family.

I am still learning.  I am still growing.  the life skills that I have I try to pass down to my daughter.  life skills based on fuck ups and living.  loneliness and lost loves.  life skills based on many fights but also based on many friends and many talks.  life filled with so much love and so much pain at the same time.  but life still beautiful.  still wondrous.  life continuing to move at an alarmingly fast rate and even though I try my best to slow it down the inevitable still stares at me in the mirror.  age.  old.  older.  closer to death.  closer to loss.  breathe and feel.  more interested in feeling than thinking.  yoga becoming more important.  ego becoming less needed.  less clutter.  more love.  more get together’s.  more music.  more conversation.  less arguing.  more vulnerability.  more human.  I love my daughter so much.  but I also love my wife.  I love my brother.  I love my Mom.  I love my friends.  and even the people I seemingly hate, I actually love.  I would prefer one big happy family instead of smaller fractured groups with fractured minds and sawed off penises.  love.  touch.  hold.  hug.  cuddle.  cuddles.  memories constantly pounding my head.  pounding my heart.  pounding my soul.  I love memories.  even the painful ones.

I look back on my youth and forget which hospital I was born in.  I forget my first house.  my first words.  my first cut.  my first poo.  I forget much of my early childhood.  does anybody remember their early years?  I remember living at The Heights Drive with my Mom and Dad but I don’t remember my brother being born.  I remember him with horn rimmed glasses and a dirty face but I also remember his beautiful blond hair and tanned face.  but where was he born?  why do I remember some parts of my youth and not other’s?  I remember my first school.  my first teacher.  my first hockey team.  but I don’t remember my first friend.  my first kiss.  I remember my Mom and Dad going to lots of parties with lots of interesting people.  I remember playing soccer.  I remember playing indoor soccer and outdoor soccer.  I remember my first erection.  But I don’t remember jerking off for the first time.  I then remember moving to Unionville.  But I don’t remember my first day of school at John XXIII.  I think it was Grade 3 but it may have been Grade 2.  I remember playing hockey for The Jets and all of the travelling and all of the goals and all of the excitement.  I remember playing tennis and baseball.  I remember playing hockey card games at recess.  I also remember playing road hockey.  watching hockey games on tv.  taking the bus to school.  Screaming “Marge is an asshole” with all of my misfit friends.  good misfits.  not “fucked up” misfits.  Rylee is growing much too fast.  her childhood has ended and now she is a teen.  memories.  so much heartache.  so many struggles.  social media destroying real relationships.  real life.

I remember so many good things from my childhood.  so many great friends.  great memories.  great experiences.  ups.  downs.  so many memories but also so many forgotten events.  forgotten friends.  forgotten experiences.  life.  love.  family.  loss.

my Dad died on February 17th, 1978 and that put a damper on my youth.  my life.  my family.  my friends.  such a devastating event that many people do not experience.  cannot comprehend.  but then I don’t experience other devastating events in people’s lives.  so much beauty.  so much love.  so much life.  SO MUCH LOSS.

my Dad left for work on Friday and as he drove by Dom and I in his ugly brown station wagon he rolled down the window and waved at us and had a huge smile on his face.  we would never see him again.  and such is life.  in a split second life tears people apart.  tears families apart.  tears lovers apart.  tears friends apart.  I was 10.  Dom was 7.  My Dad was 36.  brain hemorrhage.   collapsed on the gym floor of Cassandra Public School.  His good friend, Tommy Moulsdale, doing anything and everything to save him.  the kids of his soccer team watching in fear.  shock.  rushed to North York General Hospital.  but that is where his life ended.  North York General Hospital.  my Mom devastated.  Tommy and his many friends devastated too.  Dom and I also devastated but we didn’t find out until the next day.  very vivid memories.  painful.  clear.  such love.  such family love.  such love from friends.  why does it take such a horrific event to bring us all together?  we are all human.  we are all one.  we are all filled with love.  why?  why?  why?  why can’t we all just get along?

I’m tired.

the wine is kicking in.

I am now too relaxed to write.

memories.

loving memories.

painful and beautiful.

life.

big heart.

big soul.

my Dad is a tough act to live up to.

but I will make him proud.

human connection.