notanotherphony.

love.  laughs.  caring.  laughing.  hugging and holding.  sleeping but then crying.  playing but then hurting.  painful memories but playful memories too.  dreaming while listening to beautiful songs sung with a beautiful voice and a beautiful soul.  the beauty which is Leonard Cohen.  another beautiful human being gone.
I wake up from my dream and Rylee is staring at me with a big smile.  a big heart.  even bigger soul.  a beautiful person all the way round and I suddenly realize that she is now almost twelve years old!!!  where have all the years gone?  I still clearly remember being at Mount Sinai with Triggy as she screamed while pushing Rylee out into this world.  a beautiful gift from a beautiful person.  a beautiful family of love with all of our ups and downs.  I still clearly remember holding Rylee tightly as well as cutting her umbilical chord.
the years have just gone by way too fast and she has gone through so much for such a small little girl.  various moves to and from the city.  various temporary leaves of absence.  various arguments in front of her.  various levels of complacency while preaching passion and preaching “going for your dreams” has now hit hard and I sit at the age of fifty with a smiling beautiful girl beside me.  my daughter.  MY DAUGHTER.  how I love her soooooooo much but many times choose to avoid her.  what is wrong with me?  love is the most important thing in this life and yet I often avoid it.  I say it but then avoid it.  shame fills me as I see Rylee and Nicole walk away, once again, on a “family trip” without me.  I want to sit down and talk with Rylee about life and her loves and her dislikes and her feelings and her thoughts on school and her thoughts on sports and boys.  I want to sit down and ask her about her dreams and her plans for the future.  I also want to sit on the edge of the dock and hold her tightly as we discuss love and loss and as I begin to dream about this moment tears begin flowing down my red dried out face as I realize that pretty soon Rylee will be grown up and I will see her less and less.  and as I see her less I will regret the lost times of her youth when we could have formed such a tight bond that NOTHING would ever break us apart.  images of funerals then begin to haunt me as time is going by quicker.  another year closer to being gone.  gone from this beautiful earth.  gone from my beautiful wife.  gone from my beautiful daughter.  gone.  gone.  forgotten.  love now.  not later.  be immersed in life with all of it’s ups and downs but be immersed and be present.  do not avoid love but embrace love.  tears once again flowing as I look at a picture of a crying Rylee in her red Christmas outfit.  the tears continue as I see Triggy and Rylee curling up on the hammock or Rylee in her basketball uniform.  tears of joy but also tears of loss.  My Dad never getting an opportunity to meet Triggy and Rylee.  Never getting a chance to see just how amazing one young girl can be.  and how that young girl has then passed down all of her love to another young girl.  a young girl filled with such kindness and love that I feel that somehow someway my Dad must have played a huge part in that.  if only more people were filled with such heart.  such soul.  life passing by quickly as we chase big houses and big cars but life’s most important treasures are sitting right in front of our faces.  do good.  love.  be real.  be honest.  help.  don’t hurt.  there is already too much hate in this world.  don’t add to it.  fight back.  but fight back with love.  not more hate.
“Rylee…I love you soooooooooo much.  You are an amazing human being who, literally, has the world with all of it’s amazing wonders at your fingertips.  YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU CHOOSE AND YOU WILL DO IT WITH SUCH PASSION AND LOVE THAT YOU WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE.  JUST DO IT”.
And with that I woke up from my coma and made a choice to love more.  to be more present.  to hug more.  to kiss more.  to be a father.  a father that I never had long enough to appreciate but one who taught me soooo much in such a short time.
more tears as Leonard Cohen continued to speak.
I wiped the tears away and closed my computer.  I took a deep breath and walked out the front door.  feelings of depression subsiding and being replaced with glowing colours of hope.
love.
love.
love.
“Dad…I sometimes wish I had a brother or sister.  why didn’t you have a second child?”
regrets…guilt…tears…
“I am sorry Rylee…my bad…but I love you soooooo much and I will always be there for you…I promise.  I love you too Triggy.”

why do women need to be so angry at life?  why do women feel the need to put down men?  what is their problem?  we offer advice but it goes unturned.  advice that would help gets left behind like their confidence gets left behind.  then the blame game appears.  a game that they never win but always want to play.  fix yourselves.  fix your life.  you have one life to live so do what you can to be the best person you can be.  don’t be miserable and don’t blame your unhappiness on your husband.  also do not put your daughter in the middle of your fights.  unacceptable in an unacceptable life.  fix yourselves.  find the mirror and look into it.  do not blame.  stop the cycle.  be happy.  be free.  if you need help we are here to help you but do not blame men.  I am here for you but stop pinning our daughter against me.  it is NOT my issue.  I am a free man trying to live in an unfree world but your hatred of me needs to stop.  you are following the wrong people who never loved you but you still want their love.  self centered people who will die lonely and alone but you still want their love which is sad but understandable but then NOT understandable at the same time.  too many lives are filled with too little hearts and too little souls.  then these same family members get old and want love from their kids but the love is forgotten as it should be as these self centered pricks deserve to feel shame and guilt.  “FUCK THEM ALL!!!”
then the husband and wife and amazing little daughter who is no longer little but grown up looks at her Daddy and says, “Daddy…I always love you.  I hope you never die.”  and with that,  human connection and human humanity has been restored.  love conquering all but love needing to weed itself through angry women who refuse to look in the mirror and hope that Ellen will fix all of their problems.  news flash…Ellen DOES NOT give a fuck about you.  so buckle in or buckle down and stop blaming men for your issues and move on.  help your daughter become the best girl that she can become.  better than both her Mom and her Dad.  help her grow.  and help her love.  and help her feel.  and help her think.  she is the most important person in this family so let’s think about her.
LOVE…always LOVE.  mirrors.  blame.  bad parents and non existent love and non existent feelings getting in the way of growth.
why???

Jack Tait needed money and so he called his good buddy Ralph who ran an “extras agency” for film and television. 
“any work out there Ralph?  I need some cash for booze.”
“There’s a new Canadian show called Detour or something like that.  I’m sure I can get you on it.  Do you still have that huge beard?”
“yeah why is that a problem?”
“well these tv shows don’t seem to like beards.  they think that beards portray rebellious behaviour and the networks feel that beards may affect ratings.”
“really?  what a hunk of shit!!!”
“I know Jack but that’s the way the industry is these days.  they don’t want men.  they want little pussies who pretend they are men.”
“so can you get me in or what?”
“yeah…it’s just background work.  nobody even sees you.  you will be like a blur on the screen but get paid 200 bucks to do it.”
“amazing!!!  thanks buddy.  appreciate it.”
and with that call, Jack had a gig.
he went to bed drunk and woke up hungover but this was no different than any other day except this day Jack had to work…or walk…or whatever the fuck extra’s do in the film and television business.
Jack hopped on his blue tricycle and rode down the long driveway.  he turned right onto the long barren road and continued pedalling.  after three hours Jack Tait arrived on set.  he knew that he had to wear clothes so he wore clothes.  he even brought an extra set of clothes.  his buddy Ralph told him to do this.
Jack jumped off of his blue tricycle and walked into the big building where all the “extra’s” were being held.  sort of like prison with prison guards yelling orders and looking down on the “extras”.  the prison guards on this set were the costume dressers and the first and second and even third assistant directors.  so many people for such shitty shows.
anyway, Jack Tait arrived and gave his name to the third assistant director.  he then sat down and checked out all the other “extra’s” who were all talking about their dull lives and cracking dull jokes.  such a cast of misfits.  they came in all sizes and all shapes.  all ages and all genders.  all dull.  maybe one who wasn’t but ALL wanting to MAKE IT and doing anything they could to be noticed.
after twenty minutes the costume dresser spoke, “alright all “extra’s” line up outside and show me what you brought.”  her name was Starr and she thought she was.  but in reality just an old washed up puppet for a shitty industry with shitty hours and shitty pay.
“Okay what did you bring…hurry up…hurry up.  we don’t have all day.  the director wants to start.”
this line was repeated over and over to all the extra’s and they didn’t question the rudeness.  they took it in the ass the way they had always taken it in the ass.  all done with the hopes of “making it” in a shitty industry which produces shitty people and shitty product.
then Starr came to Jack Tait.  “what did you bring?  let me see.”
“okay I brought what I’m wear-“
“good.  good.  what else?  what else?  we don’t have all-“
“You’re not letting me finish.”
“Hurry up.  hurry up.  the director wants to start.”
“well then he should have brought us down earlier.”
“Just hurry up and get ready.”
“I am ready.”
“I mean show me your other outfit.”
“there…right there.  Good?”
“Yup good.  hurry up let’s all get out there.”
so all of the sheep (extra’s) walked outside to the big park area where the big shot director was sitting on his ass under a tent watching a screen and barking orders to all of his minions which included assistant directors,  grips, camera operators, production assistant’s, paid off duty officers, etc, etc, etc.
so many people for so little quality.  typical.
all the extra’s lined up and were ordered by some director to “walk this way.  walk that way.  then turn around and do the same thing.”
Jack Tait did as he was told for once and walked towards a bench.  he then turned around and walked back.
“cut.”  the first assistant director yelled.
“back to ones.”  he continued.
all the extra’s walked back to where they started from and got prepared to do it all again.
“camera rolling.  speed and background action.”
Jack Tait and all the other extra’s walked the same way they did on the first take.  the sun was shining bright.
“cut…you…the guy with the straw hat.  walk the other way away from the camera.”
“okay.”  said Jack Tait and on the next few takes he walked away from the camera.
after one or two takes of walking away from camera the first assistant director yelled “cut” again and walked over to the second assistant director who then spoke with the costume dresser who then walked briskly and anxiously over to Jack Tait.
“hurry up we have to go back and change.  the director doesn’t like your hat and beard.  he thinks you should be on a beach.”
“what?  this is what I always wear.  we’re in a big city.  people wear all kinds of different clothes.”
“well that’s what he said.  he wants you to look more conservatively like a detective.”
“am I a detective?”
“no.”
“then why does that fucker want me to look like a detective?”
“i don’t know but hurry up.  hurry up.  let’s go.”
Jack Tait walked extra slow mumbling some obscene words under his breath.
Starr continued to push and jab Jack Tait.
“hurry up.  let’s go.  what’s taking you so long?”
“why can’t I have a beard?  sooooo stupid.  such a stupid fucking cliché.  this show will be shit like all the other shitty Canadian shows!!!  Nobody watches this shit.  how does this shit even get money to shoot this shit???  such garbage.”
“well tell that to the director.  I’m just taking orders.”
“I will…where is he?  such a fucking puppet.  where is he???”
Jack Tait stormed over to the director who was still sitting under the shitty tent.  he was clean shaven and wearing glasses.  he looked like he was probably an accountant before some rich cunt told him that he should be a film director.  or a tv director.  or a commercial director.  or a puppet.  or a maggot or whatever other synonym there is out there to use on such a tool.
“WHY CAN’T I HAVE A BEARD?  WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEARDS?”
“who are you?”  the accountant asked.
“I”M JACK TAIT.  BACKGROUND PERFORMER.”
“are you serious?  sit down and shut up or I”ll call the union.”
“FUCK YOU YOU PIECE OF SHIT.  DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD SHIT IS?  HAVE YOU HEARD OF CASSAVETTES?  OR VON TRIER?  OR TERRENCE MALLICK?  WHAT ABOUT KUBRICK OR SCORSESE?  HAVE YOU HEARD OF ANYBODY GOOD?  YOU ARE A PUPPET MY FRIEND.  A PUPPET WHO GETS PAID WELL TO PRODUCE SHIT.  SHIT THAT NO ONE WATCHES.  NO ONE TALKS ABOUT.  IRRELEVANT DRIVEL.  YOU WILL BE ON YOUR DEATHBED AND BE IRRELEVANT.  FUCK YOU!!!”
and with that outburst Jack Tait calmly walked back to the prison to get his clothes.  he laughed at all of the inmates who listened to people calling them “dumb” and “stupid” and “you’re just a prop so such up and walk.”
he couldn’t believe people accepted such rudeness.  rude peasants in a rude industry.  an industry that produces garbage but makes money for it’s circle of friends. 
“FUCK ALL OF YOU!!!”  Jack Tait yelled as he hopped on his blue tricycle and rode away.  naked.  alone.  his one ball scraping the ground.
he rode and rode and rode.  he had a big smile as the cold wind hit his red face.  a good effort ruined by peasants.  peasants constantly getting in the way of good work.  Jack Tait arrived at home and still had no money.  no booze.  he jumped into his dirty bed and tried to meditate his way to sleep but it did not work.  in fact it never worked.  nothing ever worked except booze.  but the peasants always telling Jack that booze is bad for him.
a never ending life of bullshit that only gets better when Jack Tait sees people less.
no people.  no lies.

freezing.  frozen.  cold.  damp.  eye twitching.  bones wilting.  skin sagging.  mind blowing.  hair falling.  hair growing.  belly getting smaller but flabbier.  patience waning.  balls sagging.  toes hurting.  Achilles heal hurting.  lower back hurting.  knees hurting.  everything hurting.  nothing working.  days wasting.  weeks wasting.  months wasting.  years wasting.  everything hurting.  everything wasting.  the world growing.  but minds shrinking.  getting old is pleasant for the dull as they have lived in treachery and dullness their whole lives that they just want an escape from death.  death on earth.  the dull working shitty jobs for shitty people.  day after dreary day.  living in the suburbs and travelling with all the other dull peasants on dull highways and dull rural roads.  working five days a week to earn a paycheque that can buy them average hockey registration and average soccer registration for average teams in average towns.  WHY DO SOMETHING IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO GIVE IT YOUR ALL OUT EFFORT TO BE THE BEST???  WHAT IS THE POINT?  so much average in our society.  average school system with average teachers (good ones STUCK behind old rotted union protected lumps) and teaching an average curriculum to average students in an average building in an average town.  then the average kids go home to their average house to eat average snacks before eating an average dinner with their average parents and then they rush to their average soccer field to play average soccer with all the other average people with average parents.  the players play averagely while the average coach screams and yells average directions that the average parents applaud.  the average parents also have average conversations about average topics such as real estate and taxes and then the average game ends and the field filled with averageness becomes empty and interesting again while the sea of averageness disappears back to their average homes to watch average tv and eat more average snacks before retiring (average word) to their average beds for the night.  sleep the most important and most interesting event of the day for the average peasant.
a society that applauds average and rewards average will continue to be average which is perfect for the average person because they are the norm in this world filled with average.
unique and interesting always being squashed by the sheer numbers of averageness.

fake.  fake.  fake.  everything is fake.  things have gotten so fake that people think they are being real when they are actually being fake but no longer know the difference.  everyone feels they are a star in a dull and starless society.
“WATCH ME.”  “WATCH ME.”  “WATCH ME.”  dull and uninspiring people are posting dull and uninspiring videos of absolute and utter shit but the peasants hit “like” and pretend that they find it interesting just to be liked themselves.  society has become one big bad fucking popularity contest that no one wins.  sick.  sad.  dull.  boring.  dumb.  lazy.  unintelligent.  fat.  bad taste.  bad breath.  bad style.  everything bad.  everything dull.  the dull with their unintelligent opinions on life but haven’t read a book since high school.  “let me post a video of me doing nothing but licking the balls of some fake no name celebrity and watch all the puppets “like” it.”   fucking losers with nothing to offer but having a fake platform such as facebook or Instagram to make them feel like they are important but they are actually sick and dull with sick and dull opinions that have neither shaken anyone nor stirred anyone.  safe boring opinions on life but they make sure as fuck that no one is offended by their opinions.  I watch and snore.  I listen and snore.  I read and snore.  everyone having fake orgasms while I snore.  and snore.  and snore.  FAKE.  EVERYONE FAKE.  EVERYONE DULL.  DULL AND FAKE.  IS THERE ANYTHING MORE DULL AND FAKE THAN A DULL AND FAKE VIDEO LIVE ABOUT ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING??????????????????????????
maggots.  peasants.  sheep. 
WONDER WOMAN???
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
ANOTHER FAKE SHITTY HOLLYWOOD MOVIE THAT IS FOOLING ALL THE FAKE AND PHONY PEASANTS.  FOOLING THEM ENOUGH TO RUN OUT TO THE THEATRES TO CATCH THE EPIC TALE OF NOTHINGNESS.
MYSOGINISTIC???????
NO…IT IS A FUCKING SHIT MOVIE.  PERIOD.  JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHER SUPER HERO MOVIES.  SHIT.  SHIT.  AND SHIT.
applaud the real artists.  the shit disturbers.  the bringers of truth.  the bringers of controversy.  the outliers and the restless.  NOT THE DULL AND PREDICTABLE.
FUCKING PHONIES ARE DISGUSTING AND IT IS ONLY GETTING WORSE.
AT LEAST I AM SMART ENOUGH TO SEE THROUGH ALL THE BULLSHIT AND PHONINESS THAT MOST OF YOU FALL FOR.
THINK.
THINK.
THINK.
FUCK THE PHONIES.