notanotherphony.

Jack Tait has resurfaced after a few months of hibernation and still is feeling a never ending need to live a more fulfilled life.  his mind racing faster than ever but his body filled with aches and pains and nagging injuries and a broken wrist.  he’s finding it difficult to wipe his ass as he has always wiped his ass with his left hand but with his left wrist broken and in a cast he has to switch to his right and his back no longer contours the way it once did and thus the struggle.  he has a hard time jerking off too even though he is a right hander.  his right hand stroking finer than ever but his left hand unable to catch all of the white juice flowing from his massive cock.  just another struggle for Jack Tait as age becoming a bigger factor in his life.  at one point a man seemingly invincible now becoming weaker and weaker.  his mind becoming filled with worry and filled with fear.  fear that he is on the downside of life.  he sits in his rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and attempts to remember his crazy dream from the night before but as always the dream eludes him.  he remembers bits and pieces.  he remembers his buddy Jim Gilbert and he remembers a procession of cop cars and he remembers hiding from the cops while they drove by and he remembers that there were drugs involved and some sort of criminal activity but that is it.  “why do I always remember bits and pieces of my crazy dreams but can never piece the whole thing together???”
he gives up on his mind and decides to work on his body so he exits his farmhouse and jumps on his blue tricycle.  he is stiff and cold but he always seems to pull through.  his body, despite the aches and pains, always working better than his fast mind.  fast but scattered.  a scattered mess filled with drunken half memories of fucking girls and fighting guys and wrongful arrests and SHAME.  a mind that, if opened up, would offer up many insights into mankind and the lack of love.
Jack Tait rode his tricycle to the end of the long driveway and headed west along the long barren road called Blindline.  he rode past barking dogs and dead smelly squirrels filled with big black birds.  he felt the wind threw his thin hair and felt an easiness of freedom.  his mind now slower and able to see the beauty of nature.  beautiful trees and beautiful rivers.  a world filled with beauty but ruined by old rich greedy men with small penises but BIG BALLS.  BIG BALLS of testosterone but the higher levels of testosterone not helping the way it once helped BIG BEN win the 100 metre sprint in Seoul, Korea thirty years ago.
a beautiful world ruined by dumb people with dumb opinions.  greed combined with stupidity making a once beautiful world ugly.  Florence is more beautiful than Vegas but Vegas makes more money and has more visitors.  fat visitors with fat heads but no brains and little hearts.  maggots with baggy shorts drinking shitty beer.  Bud and Coors Light and Molson Canadian and Labatt’s 50.  all shit.  all piss.  pissy water that tastes like shit but making shitloads of money while offering up the shit.  typical in a typical world.
Jack Tait continued to ride his tricycle and continued to observe the smells.  continued to observe the nature.  time always slowing down when Jack rode his bike the way the world once slowed down when Jack fucked.
Jack Tait turned one last corner and was on the back end of his long ride when he noticed 120 cop cars.  “stop and put your hands up.”  one of the cops yelled threw a megaphone.  Jack Tait took off.  he pedalled faster than he could think.  his body faster than his brain for once.  the sirens turned on and screeching the way the ambulance sirens once screeched as Jack Tait’s Dad lay motionless in the back.  Jack Tait never forgetting the night that he died.  February 17, 1978 forever ingrained in his memory.  he thought of his Dad as the cops continued their pursuit.  he never wondered why they were chasing them but he knew never to stay around waiting to find out.  the good die young and the good get fucked by the bad who seemingly live forever despite their abhorrent dull behaviours.  more proof that there is no god and there is no karma.  just a world for the taking and you must take your’s just like every other human being must take their’s.
Jack Tait eluded the cops and made it home alive.  alive but beaten down.  how much more life left to live?  he opened the front door and fell down into the puke that was left from the night before.  too much Jack and too much wine.  always a good combination.  Jack Tait lay motionless in his old puke as the sirens continued to be heard in the distance.  the sirens began to be erased by the sounds of the howling coyotes and the annoying crickets.  aside from the sounds just a peaceful night in a remote town.
dreams can come true.

tired.  always tired.  eyes burning a bright red while my eyelids are heavy and under my eyes there are big bags and reddish blotchy skin.  the dreams are fading and the promise of prosperity and a fulfilling life filled with a loving family and a loving dog are hanging on by a frayed piece of dried skin off of my dried up lips.  the sun burning my already old skin and making it appear older and uglier.  more wrinkles.  less hair.  less money and more debt.  while many people with less talent or no talent are living in beautiful houses and travelling to beautiful places and eating beautiful food, I am STUCK searching internet for fun and travelling to my local Starbucks for a taste of a better life.  i look around and see other depressed souls busting their collective asses for minimal pay and a chance at a better life but they are fooled by crappy commercials and crappy politicians telling them the answer to a better life is to work hard and buy “things”,  fat ugly people putting on fat ugly clothes and plastering on crappy make-up roam the streets talking to other fat ugly depressed people.  they discuss the weather, their kids, the taxes, the real estate market and then throw down some Big Mac and complain that as they get older the weight becomes harder to get off.  they can’t afford the gym but can afford take-out and crappy movies and expensive cars and expensive bbq’s.  you ask these people about the world and their only knowledge is of Florida and Vegas.  they follow shallow celebrities on twitter and Instagram and yearn for the day that Justin Bieber would go down on them and suck up their flab.  I wonder if these overweight slobs still fuck but then I get sick of the image and move onto something more pleasant like pretty twenty one year old girls with no stress and no stretch marks.  girls who are still filled with passion and fire.  filled with love and desire.  girls who have hope and dreams and who still smile and laugh.  not beaten down by the mundaneness of life but the mundaneness that was caused by following fat ugly politicians and fat ugly parents who always tell you the wrong things to follow.  the wrong rules to follow.  the wrong people to follow.
my eyes are burning but my soul is burning even more.  burning for discussion and burning for passion and burning for love and burning for excitement.  always burning but trapped in a small town filled with small people.  fat but small.
life slowly passing by but getting quicker as I get older.  change needed but mind racing too fast to change.  slow down and smell the roses but the roses are no longer alive.
stuck.

I can no longer take the abuse.  the lies.  the refusal to look in the mirror.  the lack of fire.  the lack of purpose.  the neediness.  the abuse once again.  do not pit my daughter against me.  i have done lots of wrong in my life but I refuse to give in to the neediness.  i do my best to juggle life and friends and responsibilities and passions but do not ever drag me down to your mundane life.  your lack of passions.  your lack of purpose.  this is called abuse and I will not take it any longer.  i can walk away now but DO NOT TALK BADLY ABOUT ME TO MY DAUGHTER.  DO NOT TALK DOWN TO ME IN FRONT OF MY DAUGHTER.  DO NOT PLAY THE VICTIM.  i refuse to give in to your neediness.  i cannot fix you no more than I can fix my Mom.  i am tired and have only twenty good years left on this planet.  do not drag me down.  walk away and better your life.  prove me wrong.  do it.  i will applaud you but I will also respect you and vote for you while chasing your dream.  i do not understand why people feel the need to shoot me down.  put me down.  drag me down.  i am a man filled with passion.  filled with a hunger for life.  a hunger for love.  a hunger for connection.  a hunger for love once again.  my life is already filled with guilt and shame and I definitely do not need more.  i also refuse to see more psychologists and psychiatrists.  especially ones with a feminist agenda.  a feminist agenda filled with phoniness and blame.  accept your flaws.  accept the truth.  i will no longer look in the eyes of old washed up therapists who tell me what is wrong with my life while sitting in an old shack in the middle of nowhere and preaching the same bullshit that Jesus preached a thousand years ago.  the world has changed and I refuse to be guilt ridden.  i refuse to be affected by your judgements and anger. your lies and deception.  I AM A GOOD MAN.  AN HONEST MAN.  A REAL MAN WITH REAL NEEDS AND REAL WANTS.  I WILL TAKE WHAT IS MINE AND WILL NO LONGER HAVE PASSENGERS.  MOVE OUT OF MY MOTHERFUCKING WAY AND LET ME BREATHE.  LET ME DRINK.  LET ME CONVERSE.  LET ME LIVE!!!!!
I will go to bed alone once again but I will no longer feel guilt and shame.  I will figure out life much easier without the burden of my second mother in the way.  i will listen to few and fuck even fewer but I will love more and be engaged longer.  i will die a free man. a happy man.  a real man.  an angry man.  an angry man who will no longer cave in to the bullshit.  the phoniness.  the lies.  the boredom.  the boredom of boring towns filled with boring people talking about the same societal boring issues.
FUCK EVERYONE WHO DOES NOT ASPIRE TO BE FREE.
FUCK EVERYONE WHO LIES.
FUCK EVERYONE WHO IS PHONY.
FUCK EVERYONE WHO DRAGS OTHERS DOWN.
FUCK THE DULL.
AND FUCK YOU!!!

I HAVE A MAJOR FUCKING ISSUE WITH PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND PLAY THE BLAME GAME AND THE POOR ME GAME WHEN ALL I EVER FUCKING DO IS LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND TRY TO BETTER MYSELF.  ANGER ISSUES.  ABANDONMENT ISSUES.  ANXIETY ISSUES.  CONTROL ISSUES.  ISSUES EVERYWHERE BUT NEVER A MIRROR TO LOOK AT…WHY?  WHY NOT ATTEMPT TO BETTER YOURSELF?  BETTER YOUR LIFE?  LIFE IS SHORT AND SHOULD BE LIVED TO IT’S FULLEST BUT IF YOU REFUSE TO LOOK AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR YOU WILL KEEP PEOPLE AT BAY AS YOU BLAME THEM WHILE PRETENDING TO BE HAPPY ON FACEBOOK AND INSTAGRAM.  A VICIOUS CYCLE NEEDS TO BE STOPPED OR YOUR CHILD WILL END UP THE SAME DESPITE SO MUCH PROMISE.  SO MUCH PASSION.  SO MUCH EXCITEMENT.  SO MANY SKILLS AND SUCH A BIG HEART.  DO NOT FUCK THAT UP!!!
LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND SEEK THE CHANGE THAT IS NEEDED.  GET HELP.  SEEK HELP.  FIND A MIRROR.  BECOME VULNERABLE.  BREAK DOWN THE WALLS OF ANGER AND SMILE…BE HAPPY…LOVE DO NOT JUDGE.
WHEN YOUR PARTNER WANTS TO DISCUSS LIFE DO NOT SAY THAT YOU ARE TOO BUSY AND WALK AWAY…STOP…LISTEN…OPEN UP…RESPOND.
BE AWAKE AND SMELL THE ROSES.
LIFE SHOULD BE LIVED.  LIFE SHOULD BE FUN.  LIFE SHOULD BE FILLED WITH LEARNING AND LOVING.
LOOK IN THE MIRROR.
 

I finally hit fifty years old (who would have thought?) and first wonder how I made it this far.  too much booze.  too much drugs.  too many fights.  too many arrests.  too many blackouts.  everything is “too many” except for family.  family very rarely there when you need them most.  most people I know talk about how great their family is.  they talk about how great their family was.  their childhood memories are filled with smiles and fun and love and great trips and great talks.  they talk about how their families helped them buy their first home which led them to buy more homes and be ahead of the game of finance.  they talk about their Sunday dinners together.  and their parents elation at their huge accomplishments and then their parents elation at their grandkids’ huge accomplishments.  they talk about the joy their parents had when they had their first grandchild and further joy when the second came along and so on and so on.  they talk about the help their parents give them when they fall on tough times or the love their parents give them when they just need a hug and someone to tell them that “everything is going to be alright.”  they talk about the tree of life and how they look forward to growing older and seeing their kids have kids and looking forward to helping them get on their feet.  family love.  unconditional family love is something that can’t be bought nor is it something that just appears or is just “there” because you call your Mom “Mom”.  family love should be unconditional but what happens when it is not?  where do you go for love?  do you find love from your friends?  do you find love from your enemies?  from your teachers?  coaches?  girls?  booze?  drugs?  sexual conquests?  arrests?  cops?  aa meetings?  rehab meetings?  temporary accomplishments?  temporary accolades from your peers?  but what kind of love is this?  it is or rather it can be great but it DOES NOT match the love that you should automatically receive from your parents.  UNCONDITIONAL FAMILY LOVE…not fake surface bullshit “love?” that comes out of the mouths of blocked people who never ever wanted to look in the mirror and unblock themselves.  the “poor me” syndrome constantly in full effect while life and family fade away into the cold dark air.
Mom’s who always have the answer but the answers come from blocked brains and blocked hearts.  lack of love for family but lots of fake love for acquaintances who come and go like sexual conquests in my twenties and thirties.  “come” then “go”.  metaphors filling my brain.  filling my world.  love.  where are you?  how bad is your relationship when you are afraid at the age of fifty to ask your Mom for help?  and when you finally get up enough courage (50 but act like 20) to ask for help you get back a look of DISGUST.  the same look that you received when you were twenty years old and drunkenly falling through the kitchen window.  glass everywhere.  cops too.  judgements of the worst kind but never EVER wanting to have a conversation with your son to see just what he is all about.  what makes him tick.  what are his loves and what are his goals.  a son that has passionately performed in over thirty plays and thirty films but never EVER receiving a “great job son.  I am so proud of you.”  how pathetic is it that your Mom has only seen maybe five performances of your over eighty plus performances?  and when she does come to see you perform, she immediately comments on how great the other actors were in the play.  a still ten year old boy only wanting some genuine love and approval from her now eighty year old Mom but, instead, getting the look of disgust and disappointment back.
a fragile almost broken relationship now completely broken and a great boy once filled with so much love for his Mom now filled with “nothingness” for his Mom.  the forgiving and forgetting no longer part of his vocabulary.  life filled with so much hope and so much promise but a Mother who sees none of it.  a Mother who has lived in her own prison cell for forty years but never attempting to escape.  a sad life becoming sadder and instead of reaching out for more connection is constantly pushing the only real connections in her life away.  pushing them so far away that it is now a major chore anytime there is a family get together.  a fake family get together because everything is surface.  everything phony.  everything filled with bad memories from the past but incapable of forgiving and incapable of LOVE…REAL LOVE.
while there continues to be horrific terrorist attacks across the world and facebook is filled with “positive vibe” posts and “thoughts and prayer” posts I find it genuinely hard to mourn for these people.  I attempt to feel sadness and I attempt to feel empathy but I have lived in my own pain for so long that nothing comes close to not having loving parents.  loving caring parents who care so deeply about you that they would put their world on hold for the chance to HELP their son.  their daughter. 
money.  fame.  cars.  toys.  big houses.  big boats.  fancy shoes.  fancy clothes.  “sunshine club”.  presidents.  prime ministers.  we chase all of this.  we want all of this.  we feel we NEED all of this.
you may but I don’t.  I want LOVE.  unconditional love.  it is too late for me with my Mom but, at least, I am aware of it.  it has fucked me up in many ways but I survive.  I struggle at times but I LOVE LIFE AND NOTHING WILL STOP ME FROM LOVING LIFE…EVER…
except death…and I never want to die…ever.