notanotherphony.

Jack Tait sat confused and restless.  depressed and sad.  longing for long lost summer days with his loving daughter and beautiful wife.  wondering where they both were.  wondering if they were both okay.  hoping that he hadn’t fucked them up too much but Jack Tait’s hope’s usually proved fruitless the way that his prayers usually proved fruitless.  wasted mornings and wasted nights praying to a god that never seemed to care.  never seemed to be there.  a god that allows young babies to starve to death and allows old wrinkled white guys to run/ruin the world.  a god that is talked about but never seen the same way that Santa is talked about but never seen.  Jack Tait grabbed his forty of Jack Daniels and sat on his purple reclining chair.  he opened the bottle and poured the liquid down his throat.  his body and mind getting older and catching up to his wrinkled face and wrinkled one ball.  the last thirty years of his life washed away in booze and guilt and now he sits alone and sad once again.  he wonders about other lonely people who sit by themselves at night and watch shitty tv and eat shitty food.  he wonders why they are alone and wonders if they could fix their issue of loneliness the way he has tried to fix his issue of loneliness.  so many lonely people in a world filled with loud obnoxious people and loud obnoxious music.  a world that has forgotten the word love and has replaced love with selfies and phony sad sacked love filled posts about family on facebook.  a world that was once filled with free love and free sex has been replaced by strict rules and strict sex.  too many diseases and too many options leave many people frozen and alone.  longing for a better life but frozen and stuck on facebook and stuck reading long articles about how to better their lives when the easy answer is to get back to being a kid and being free from the shackles that keep us all mired in quicksand and mired in our cluttered heads and cluttered minds.
dull boring people making the rules to suit their needs.  their needs of fake parties and fake tits with fake cars and fake laughs.  Jack Tait took another swig of Jack Daniels to quench his thirst and continued to think about life and all of it’s downfalls.  “WHY DO WE FOLLOW THESE RULES?  WHO MADE THESE RULES?  WHY WERE THESE RULES MADE?  WHO DECIDED WHEN WE COULD GET A LICENCE TO DRIVE?  WHO DECIDED WHEN WE COULD VOTE?  WHO DECIDED WHEN WE COULD FUCK?  WHO DECIDED WHEN WE NEEDED TO FINISH SCHOOL?  WHO DECIDED WHAT WAS TAUGHT IN SCHOOL?  WHO DECIDED MINIMUM WAGE AND WHO DECIDED SALARIES FOR VARIOUS USELESS OCCUPATIONS?  WHO DECIDED SPEED LIMITS AND WHO DECIDED THAT IT IS OKAY TO SMOKE CIGARETTES BUT NOT OKAY TO EAT MUSHROOMS?  NOT OKAY TO TALK ON THE PHONE WHILE DRIVING?  WHO MADE THESE MOTHERFUCKING RULES AND WHEN WERE THEY MADE???”
Jack Tait finished off his bottle of Jack and walked outside.  he wanted to take in the cold bright air.  he wanted to breathe in the cold fresh air.  he wanted to take in life without maggots and rules.  without hateful fools.  he looked up to the sky and smiled.  he then hopped on his blue tricycle and rode up and down his driveway.  he screamed, “I AM ALIVE!!!!!!!!  I AM FREE!!!!  I LOVE PEOPLE!!! SARAH AND TAYLOR PLEASE COME BACK TO ME!!!!!!!!!” 
Jack Tait continued to ride and scream for his long lost family.  day.  night.  he would not stop until they came back.  he knew that love and family were the most important things in this world.  he knew that he wasted many days and wasted many nights chasing the wrong things and the wrong people and now is a free man.  he hopes that it is not too late.  but hope never seems to help him.  he thought about praying but that never helped him either.  he continued pedalling the pedals of his blue tricycle as crickets chirped and the coyotes howled.
Jack Tait is sad.

Jack Tait woke up screaming, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!  LEAVE HER ALONE!!!  DON’T HURT HER!!!  SHE IS A KIND HEARTED LOVING LITTLE GIRL WHO WOULD HURT NO ONE AND LOVE EVERYONE!!!  LEAVE HER ALONE!!!  IN A WORLD FILLED WITH BRATTY FUCKING KIDS AND BRATTY FUCKED UP DULL PARENTS SHE IS ONE OF THE GOOD ONES…ONE OF THE REAL ONES…FUCK OFF AND BRING YOUR FUCKING ANGRY ASSED YELLING SHENANIGANS ACT SOMEHWERE ELSE.  I DON’T CARE IF YOU ARE AN ESTABLISHED COACH WITH LOTS OF TROPHIES AND LOTS OF FEARFUL FOLLOWERS YOU BETTER SHUT THE FUCK UP AND TREAT MY LOVELY DAUGHTER WITH RESPECT OR I WILL FUCKING SMASH YOUR FUCKING FILTHY FUCKING FACE IN!!!”
Jack Tait was sweating and lost.  he knew that he once had a daughter but he hadn’t seen her in over twenty years.  his drinking and fucking didn’t sit well with Taylor.  nor did it sit well with Sarah.  Jack Tait had a big heart but he also had a big mind with raging hormones that could not be tamed and thus he sits alone in a rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and looks back not forward.  his love for his daughter was unmatched but even that caused him problems as he wanted to protect her from anything and everything and that seemed to do more harm than good.  many days filled with guilt and shame and filled with fear and pain would become better once Jack picked up Taylor from school.  it would be a running hug at first then just a hug.  but as Taylor got older it became less touch and more talk.  no more hugs.  no more kisses.  late night struggles and early morning fights combined with thoughts of growing old and losing Taylor altogether filled Jacks brain but like many addictions he could do nothing to stop the downward slide.  he knew that he LOVED her more than he loved anyone before but he felt her pulling away from him the way many girls eventually pulled away.  Jack Tait even thought of his Dad pulling away.  some planned.  some not planned.  rejection nonetheless.
the years quickly moving by and the wrinkles coming faster than success, Jack Tait wondered daily about his long lost daughter.  he knew how great she once was and knew how much promise she once had but he also thought of all the damage that he may have caused her.  damage caused without knowing it was being caused.  damage caused by loving someone too much and caring for someone too much but not allowing that person to grow and think for themselves.  wanting to control and fix things but never able to control and fix his own life.  Jack Tait dreamt daily of his long lost daughter.  beautiful nightmares but loneliness never leaving him.  he wondered if Taylor was married.  he wondered if she still saw her Mommy.  he wondered if she still played basketball.  he wondered what she did for her career and he wondered what she looked like.  LOVE SO IMPORTANT BUT NEVER ABLE TO FULLY BE EXPRESSED.
Jack Tait is a lonely man in a lonely world but only wants the best for everyone.
He knows that life is moving too quickly.
he knows that people have become sickening shells of their former selves.
he knows that there is shitty music and shitty movies and shitty tv and shitty sports teams and shitty politicians and shitty coaches and shitty teachers but he also wonders why they have to be shitty and who puts these shitty people in positions of power.
Jack Tait is horny.  he is always horny and wishes that he fucked more girls when he was younger and somewhat attractive.  more opportunities squandered.  more regrets in a life filled with regrets and losses.  loss of games but major losses of love.
jack tait sits back and listens.  he hears crickets and coyotes.  then he goes to bed…again.  he is afraid because he will have more nightmares of his long lost daughter and long lost LOVE.
why do we put the wrong people on pedestals.

Jack Tait sat on his blue tricycle and couldn’t move.  not one step further.  a tired and lonely man filled with shame and filled with pain.  too many drunken nights.  too many hungovered mornings.  too many nameless fucks and too many beatings by angry men filled with angry booze.  Jack Tait wanted more out of life but he no longer could move.  his mind wandering around in his old head the way his penis used to wander around.  early years filled with fun and freedom slowly and painfully turning to older years filled with regrets and sore body parts.  sore back.  sore head.  stuffy nose.  sore hands.  sore knees.  sore feet.  sore soul knowing that life is slowly winding down.  days moved slower back when Jack was a kid.  now the days are moving faster.  days filled with boredom.  early morning hopes shifting quickly to wine induced sleeps on his shitty purple reclining chair in his rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.  art mirroring life Jack moves around in circles accomplishing nothing but periodic glimpses at beautiful girls that set Jack Tait deeper into his depression.  sleepless nights turning Jack Tait deeper into depression.  shitty jobs turning Jack Tait deeper into his depression and most importantly, shitty people turning Jack Tait deeper into his depression.  shitty people with zero heart and wrinkled up souls offering nothing to society except some “yes’s”, moving along with smiles while artistic people (real artists not fluffy phony assed pansies) struggle in piss and dirt looking for a way out but wanting to stay and endure more.  fucking and sucking becoming illegal while lying and stealing becoming legal making Jack Tait even more depressed.  Jack Tait could no longer formulate thoughts.  he could no longer formulate plans.  he has become a simple man on a simple bike.  hopes and dreams a distant memory along with his deceased Dad and deceased dog.  Jack Tait sits on his blue tricycle and waits…and waits…and waits…but nothing comes except for a few smelly farts and a few smelly burps.  he is now drooling and his one nut has lost all of it’s strength.  he has become a pathetic.  tired.  lonely.  dirty.  guilt ridden.  shameful.  heat flashed.  wrinkled.  old.  lost.  sweaty shell of a man.  he closes his eyes and falls off of his tricycle and lands on his right shoulder.  he does not wake up as the rains come pouring down and washing his drool down the dirty drain filled with piss and shit.
Jack Tait dreams of better days.

rules.  regulations.  traditions.  religions.  Sunday School and fake weddings and even faker funerals.  Jack Tait has seen it all in his sixty one years on this earth.  he once followed silly traditions and silly rules.  silly religions and silly fools but he decided awhile back that none of it really mattered.  it was rules and traditions made up by fools who put themselves on pedestals while they ruined the very world we all lived in.  incessant wars caused by greed and ego.  religious leaders being charged with rape.  political leaders being charged with rape.  political leaders being charged with tax evasion and fraud.  adulterous behaviour by sickening people pretending to be friends of the people while being enemies of the people and friends of the foe.  fake debates and wasted conversations after the debates.  all of it distractions for the average person living an average life in an average job with an average opinion.
Jack Tait decided awhile back that he needed to be a real thinker.  a free thinker.  a bringer of noise and a bringer of chaos to the mundane world that surrounded him.  he tried many times to help his friends get out of their mundane routines and mundane lives filled with following dumb mundane rules made up by old rich white mundane men filled with mundane semen.  he tried and tried but no one wanted to listen.  they were caught up in their fears.  their traditions.  standing for the national anthem was their duty.  acknowledging remembrance day was their duty.  acknowledging the Sabbath day was their duty.  wearing suits and dresses to weddings and funerals.  wearing suits and dresses to family gatherings and work gatherings and workdays and weekends.  suits and dresses acting as business cards and acting as shields for the real human being behind them. 
Jack Tait moved away from it all but it wasn’t easy.  nothing hard ever is.  he left the distractions.  he left the family.  he left his friends.  he left his lovers.  he left hope behind in a cloud of smoke filled with lies and phoniness.  he left it all behind as he jumped on his blue tricycle and rode away from the cities.  he rode away from the towns.  he rode away from annoying judgemental family members.  he rode away from annoying judgemental authoritarian figures.  peasants that will all die.  death cannot be escaped.  some die early like Jack Tait’s Dad.  some die late like Jack Tait’s Dad’s Dad.  one a great guy (Jack Tait’s Dad).  the other a racist lying rule follower (Jack Tait’s Dad’s Dad).  “Only the good die young” another lie fed to people yearning for meaning but yearning for The Bachelor and The Kardashian’s as well. 
Jack Tait continued to ride into the cold Autumn air.  he was naked.  his one ball dangling in the cool wind.  Jack Tait was free at last to live the life he always wanted to live.  he arrived at his rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and walked inside.  he sat on his purple reclining chair and looked up to the dirty ceiling.  he saw nothing.  he then got up and opened the front door and looked outside.  NOTHING.  cold winds.  blue skies.  leaves flying somewhere in the sky but not at Jack’s house.  no trees.  no leaves.  no people.  no cops.  no bats.  no dogs.  no rules.  no followers.  no pain.  no rain.  a man seemingly insane but a man never waiting in vain.
Jack Tait took a deep breath and let out a big sigh, “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…this is the life.”
way off in the way off distance he could see smoke and mirrors, bloodshed and fears.
“that is NOT life.”

Jack Tait sat beside his old rundown mattress on his bedroom floor in his rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and prayed.  he hadn’t prayed for over fifty years.  he hadn’t prayed since his Dad suddenly died one cold night in February.  but Jack Tait couldn’t take life anymore.  life had become so dull.  so predictable.  politics and the housing market and the incessant wars were constant topics of discussion with the sheep who inhabited this once beautiful world.  Trump supporters and Hillary supporters and Trudeau supporters and Harper supporters.  “all entitled rich cunts who do nothing for the good of this world except look after their rich friends in high places.”  Jack blurted out without fear of judgement.  Jack Tait didn’t give a flying fuck what people thought of him.  he was a free thinker in an unfree world.  “Most peasants pretend they are free but they live in fear and live by following dumb rules that are in place to keep the sheep down and keep the fearful under control.  NOBODY CONTROLS A FREE THINKER.  A FREE THINKER IS NOT A CREATURE OF HABIT.  NOR IS HE A FOLLOWER OF RULES OR ANCIENT TRADITIONS.  I DON’T RESPECT AUTHORITY JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE AUTHORITY.  THAT IS FUCKING LUDICROUS!!!”
Jack Tait kneeled down beside his mattress and prayed.  “Please Father we need help on earth.  I am surrounded by fearful people who pretend to not be fearful but they are unhappy people living unhappy lives and working shit jobs and wish their weekdays away to get to the weekends so they can mow their lawns and go on useless shopping sprees to buy useless items that they do not need and then feel guilty and shameful and then bitch and moan about all of their struggles and bitch about men and bitch that they do not see their family enough and then bitch about their shitty jobs and bitch about taxes and bitch about politics and bitch about their sisters and their exes and generally bitch about every fucking single thing they can possibly bitch about all the while doing sweet fucking nothing to fix their lives.  in twenty years these sick depressed fuckers will be on their deathbeds and FINALLY look in the mirror and wonder why they never looked in their motherfucking mirror before and attempted to change things.  they will wonder why they ALWAYS blamed everyone else for their sad and pathetic lives.  they will wonder why they focused on useless elections about useless topics.  they will wonder why they NEVER read a book or NEVER exercised.  they will wonder why they ate shitty foods and, then, periodically went on useless diets or drank fake ISOGENIX drinks and looked to some fucking thing called facebook for approvals and affirmations.  these people NEED help as they are all sad and pathetic and if they only looked in their motherfucking mirror…just ONCE…they might get better.  but they don’t father.  they get more depressed and more depressed and then they claim that they have clinical depression but how does anyone know that they have clinical depression when they refuse to visit doctors?  refuse to visit psychiatrists?  these people watch shitty shows and eat shitty foods and then they get fat and then they go on a diet and then they go off of their diet and then they sit in shame and then they go upstairs and CRY.  they CRY Father.  cry.  cry.  cry.  but these people refuse help father.  they say that they are fine and they say that they are happy and they say that they want to be alone when everyone on this motherfucking earth knows that these type of people who don’t read and don’t go on adventures NEED a “partner” to be happy.  a fake happiness but a happiness nonetheless.  Please Father pray for these sad and pathetic souls as I have lost all patience and empathy for them.  I have my own motherfucking troubled life to figure out.  Pray for me Father.  Pray for them too.  In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.”
Jack Tait then jumped up and ran out of his shitty house.  he jumped on his blue tricycle and rode down the long narrow dirt road driveway.  he rode as fast as he could.  he rode right and then he rode left.  he rode down hills and then rode up hills.  he was clearly on a mission to find someone or find something.  he was sweating.  he was panting.  he was not going to be stopped today the way he had been stopped many times before.  he rode and rode and rode.  through stop signs and red lights.  he rode until he finally could not possibly ride anymore as his inner thighs were bleeding from chafing skin.  he jumped off of his tricycle and nakedly walked up to 11 Lindaway.  a townhome where he grew up in Unionville.  a townhome where he lived when his Dad died.  a townhome filled with many memories.  some good.  some bad.  “isn’t that what life is all about?”
Jack Tait opened the front door and walked in.  he walked up the front stairs and into the kitchen.  he looked left and saw his Mom smoking a cigarette out the kitchen window.
“hi Mom.”
his Mom turned around.  “Oh hi Jack.  what brings you here?  I haven’t seen you in twenty years.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I love you.  I miss you.  I wish we could bring back Dad and I wish we could start over again and I wish that life wasn’t so hard on you and I wish that we could all live forever and I just want you to know that I really appreciate everything you have done for me.  you are an amazing woman and I don’t ever want you to die.”
Jack Tait then ran over to his Mom the way he ran to her when he was four years old.  unconditional love not conditional at that time.  a time when love and innocence had not been scarred by life.  they held each other tightly and both cried.  the clock was ticking.
“I love you Mom.”
“I love you Jack.”
“Where have all your friends gone Mom?  Where are they?”
“They have all died Jack.  They have all died.”
Jack Tait and his Mom continued to hug and continued to cry.
Life slowing down one last time.
memories.  some good.  some bad.