There It Is

I had so many things - just little. I cannot recall all of 'em now, but I will press on with what I still have access to before it is too late. Tonite I learned several things, as I usually do in a night's unravelling, but one important lesson was the revelation of one man's life. This man, who shall remain nameless - he is too good to give up, a secret dandy I will guard closely until I can further investigate come the warm blooming months of summer - I have already given too much - leads a lifestyle that I have dreamed of living for almost as long as I started forming thoughts, certainly as far back as I can clearly recall. O, what a life this man leads. He has done with society and so-called norms what I wish to do every Thursday morning with my trash bags; kicked 'em to the curb for someone else to deal with, and, rightfully so (we are both tax payers, I think...I know I am). This man, in his outlandish and desireable dealings and lack of concern for the acceptance of him by others, has become a complete and self-suficient and very rich vagabond. O, saying more would give him away, probably to no readers of this Dream, but taking the chance is not worth risking such a hopeful and very possible prospect for a sit down of breeze and shit and bull shooting. I'll come fully loaded to this man and fire! Bang. Bang. Bang. Get ready, Lil' Darlin. I've got my eyes on you and my life just might depend on it.

I also learned, from a very insightful drunk, that there, on average, is one drunk at every party. I think what he meant, and I have to cut the guy some slack (he was drunk), was that there is always someone drunk before the rest...although I do feel bad for the people whose table and floor (hardwood, luckily) he spilled hot candle wax and decorative pepper all over. But hey, tis the season.

A few days ago I missed out on a free coffee at the nearest Tim Horton's. Turns out somebody felt the need (kudos to him) to pass across the counter one $100.00 banknote as an early gift, leaving instructions for Tim's employees to use it to pay for as many coffees as would be allowed until the money was all gone, into the hands of Corporate Canada. Ok, so it was a great and unselfish and fitting gesture for the times. The young man, slightly older than myself and wearing a long knee-length beige wool coat looking rather bohemian, stuck around long enough to greet the last lucky exiting customer: a surprised and upbeat older man exited the building where the Santa imposter (good human imposter?) was enjoying seeing the benefits of his good deed come to life while smoking a butt in the cold. I only caught the tail end of the man who brightened several dozen mornings for the working dreary, but I was able to piece together the account with lingering talk of amazement and wonder and delight back inside the shop, and I witnessed his quiet and strange exit as he hopped back in his Bobcat A300, tucking in his coattails as he took a seat between the joysticks and bumbled off to face the day. I wasn't as impressed as most were. I do things like this, on a smaller scale, almost daily. I certianly did appreciate his act of kindness, however.

Finally, I have been mourning the loss of Kerouac lately. Four more years and he will have died 40 years ago. Reading Desolation Angels is hard for me in the sense that he defies, at least stretches, all realms of reasonable and acceptable writing style. Stream of Consciousness, Sontaneous Prose, whatever. How does this help in my studying of the craft? Still, Kerouac writes from the heart and soul and very outer edges of the thought producing mind, leaving all behind in place of the truth. I ache for the man - not now, but in his past life. Mostly, I guess, I just ache for my yearning and my self-pity, for the fact remains and always will that in this lifetime I will have only the long written words of he and his friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, along with several films, recorded interviews, and literary criticisms to further develop my understanding of the man, although I don't see how anyone could come up with the latter.

Criticism? Kerouac? No.

I love and idolize a dead man. I love Jack for at the very least giving us this: "Offer them what they secretly want and they of course become immediately panic-stricken."

I can't say for sure what Kerouac was thinking or referring to when he wrote these words in On the Road, but I can say for sure how I apply them in my tiny ripple of existence. They apply to the people who have such problems in life that they must incessantly, and probably unknowingly, use people to make themselves feel superior, or just better. For when I meet people such as this, I simply turn up the juice and give it to them in all the kindness my heart can afford, which happens to be a lot. People see, hear, and feel this kindness and are at a complete loss - they become panic-stricken, immediately. They don't know what to make of your pure and severe kindness. They don't know what to make of your love. They are stumped, and most importantly and hopefully they experience a change, whether slight or large but always significant, inside themselves. This is easy because most people, secretly or not so secretly, desire nothing more than a little love and attention from the things that they can relate to most in this version of lonely life: other people.

It's a shame we have rules and laws that govern most (not most, but some...and that is a lot) of our abilities to love one another. The few ruin it for the many; the brave trod on and love all.

Comments

[michael wrenshall]

Hi pigger... i am not talented enough to critique...but here is what i think anyways.

interesting content all the way through. had to re read several times to join the dots...

found out that your writing is the most appealing when you are doing a narrative of a situation... like describing the drunk at the party... same as beofee with the beggar soutside the golden arches... that is when i cant put it donw.. and wnt to read more and more.

loved you r words on turning the juice higher... it makes sence... and it s a great prinicple to live by.. i should try that more...

till next time

[Jonathan]

its just a theory, and I dont always turn up the juice. I still can get flip and cross and saucy. but the bigger and better thing to do is just turn up the juice. give it to them like they would never expect. they dont know what to make of it. its not a sarcastic kindness either, but pure and true. Most people are good. they become bad only when something terrible has happened to them somewhere down the line. Someone mean might just be having a bad day as well, perhaps their dog died or their mother or father, or perhaps they just lost their house to a fire, how can we ever know. That is why kindness should prevail, just in case. I did this with the monkeys at table 12 a few years back - not enough, but some - it should have been more to make a real stand, but I was just learning then, as i am now. i thinkthis (kerouacs quote) fits in hand in hand with the fact that people maybe tell 40 or 50 percent of the truth. There is so much truth inside that is left behind or brought out in disguise or changed slightly out of fear. A lot of things are governed by fear. The lady at table 12 couldnt tell me her problems and i couldnt tell her to shut her face - that alone was about 50% of our truths being held back - she even lied, obvioulsy, when she called me a very little, little man and I lied when i said thanks. However, had she let me in on her pain I would have been 100% kind and honest. See, there are still some kinks I have to work out to make this a sound theory and philosophy, but it's coming along. anyway, its hard to tell or show or give the truth 100% of the time, because it takes some time and some knowing to find the deepest things inside of us. and the truth wont hurt anyone anymore...remember, we are all basically good...unless that is a huge front/smoke screen we have developed by telling half truths for the past thousands of years. go raptors!

[Eric Blair]

Flying back from Kelowna I sat beside an old friend, or a complete stranger. Our time apart and the development we each experienced over the years could easily place him in either category. His academic advancements had been in the field of international policy. He told me about a school (in Africa) he worked at that educated young women, and gave them the tools to do something other than prostitute. It costs $300 per annum to run the school, yet the community struggles to find the money each year. Everyone going into Tim Horton’s that day had the $1.50 for his or her Large Double Double. Merry Christmas.

[Jonathan]

...and so goes the way of the World. Avoid it by becoming an anchorite for the rest of life thereby removing any social responsibility from your lone shoulders and avoiding money and any possible guilts associated with the use of it - saving or spending (in this case both are just as worthy of guilt), or ignore it by creating a world within yourself which you live, eat, sleep, breathe and do all other things that make up such a place and time, and carry on in the other struggles that aren't so much to do with as important issues, and may be downright paltry and trifling, but comprise life anyway. C'est la vie, or Change the World; the way the cookie crumbles, or clean up those bits and cookie pieces that have fallen to the floor to find themselves the brunt of heavy treading feet. Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'. Get out and make a difference, for someone, for something, or create a safe haven - although not wrong by anymeans - and dwell thereby for the rest of time, where having that morning coffee may be the best part of your insignificant day. I dream for the simple life, a shack on the beach, perhaps for lack of greater knowledge and experience. Somewhere, on the other side of the world, a family yearns for the life I know, with all of its complexities and money and troubles and freedoms (where I see little). Would we be happy to trade places?

[michael wrenshall]

these viewpoints are somewhat black and white; the world is made of more colours...

though an expression does come to mind... are you part of the problem? or part of the solution? .... and still think there are many shades to it all... most people have a conscience when pricked....tsunami in thailand...etc... but as for core values; not sure where generosity and helping fellow humans rates in the rankings

[Jonathan]

I understand the contrasts here, but that was kinda my idea...at least in the last comment. filling in the gray area is a matter of a lifetime. I was just playing the Satan's buddy, the Devil's Advocate. Anything, good or bad, can be argued here, especially on such opposing extremes, but i think you are right, but then, which solution or which problem are you are a part of. DO you contain a certain and general view regarding all things which you see to be part of a general and wide-spread solution; less war, less hunger, more peace; can't we all just get along. I agree, the world is full of colours, it isn't simply black and white, but it's hard to be closer to one white or one black than the other. Should we feel guilty for having a morning coffee, an addiction perhaps, a joy for sure, albeit small, knowing that parts of the world are being bombed, still have no homes after great natural disasters, or have no food. What should be done? I guess those colours are the basic content of life's stuff. O, I dunno. Now my mood has changed and I see so many stupid expressions, not because of anything you said. I just see 'em. Live and learn. Pfff, no crap?

Sometimes I want to delete everyword written. One futuristic day that option will be a living suicide of a jargon-filled slate.

[eli]

every time i read this stuff i want to print it and show it anyone and everyone that might be able to spread your wealth somehow. I feel that more people should know about you and your talents bud...gimmie the go-ahead and i'll get my surprisingly connected step dad to get your name out - plant the seed, if you will, in the minds of his high-up arts friends...just a thought

[Andrew McFadyen]

Your dad's critique is pretty crazy....
I totally agree...I don't think I will ever be as enthralled with reading about Eddy Vedder's droplets of sweat (and the like) then in this Dream.

Eli, Eli, Eli, what a smart guy...