Monthly Archives: June 2019

Got tired of writing…

…so I’m writing this instead. Straight from the hip, cut to the chase. I am going to be asking for a big favour soon and I feel good about that. I think I have a good shot of it being granted and I think I am wise enough to express myself truly and without artifice. As far as goal-setting goes, I said something today: I want to work so hard and so smartly and so successfully that when this favour is granted it will be irrelevant. HIgher things will have availed themselves to me. That’s a tall order but its puts this favour in proper context as one step in a staircase. The better a stairclimber I am, the less relevant one missing step is going to be in my progression upward.

Its gonna take time and attention; the two spiritual commodities. I can work and apply myself so hard and so diligently in the direction of mastery in one domain that proximal domains become lower rungs, helpful, but not necessary.

I can do this. I am as good as I have ever been. I can do anything. Mine is the drill that will pierce the heavens. #prettycorpseblues I gotta say it more because its my life. Its what I do. It’s who I am. Its the delicate balance of submitting to the universe but keeping a rebellious spark in my open, watchful eyes. If I keep my gaze trained on reality, it will eventually blink and then all bets are off.

But until it blinks, I watch it and outwardly submit to it. Learn its rules, play its game, biding my time like Nat Turner.

Reality is like a rude bitch; she wants to be taken by a man who knows when and how to strike and cow her. To fuck her?….forcefully? Maybe…

Hatefully? Definitely!

Reality wants you to put her in her place.

*Read this in Patrice O”Neal’s voice*

“Listen you, you…goofy bitch. I know what you’re tryina do. You tryna pimp me -And I AM gon’ LET you. You wanna come out at me callin’ me limp dick this or pathetic failure that? That’s cool, baby! I ain’t gon’ in’errupt you. But pretty soon you gonna run out of dumb shit to say, and plates to throw at me, and you just gonna stand there looking retarded….looking at everything YOU DESTROYED…and I. Am. Going. To. Simply smile. And hug you and you will feel like the idiot dum-dum you are and can’t help being and you will. Want. To. Fuck. Me. Then. And your dumbass is gonna feel guilty for your performance earlier and you will beg me to punish you. And because I am a man and I love I will. And then when we are done and you walkin’ stupid like a chicken, you are going to go into the kitchen and get me something to eat.”

Patrice didn’t say that, but I feel its a fairly faithful recreation os something he might say if he was talking to a woman…or reality.

Sleep now.
-Dre

RIP Patrice O’Neal

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This is What Fire Feels Like

I feel like I’m losing my mind. Unraveling. I’m scared(?) Yes. Scared of what?
Dying?
Fucking up. Having what family I have left disown me.

But I know there is no other path. I have to do this. I have to go back to Europe and play music. Get energized by the city. Berlin. I need to get to. I need to focus. Pick one thing and go for it. But first there something I have to attend to, when my body screams to focus on one thing and go for it, to stop wasting my time.

I am staying in Canada to make up a high school course I need for successful application to college. Its going to be hard but good to have it done and be registered.

As soon as its done I want to be gone. Perfecting my street show. Touching people with my music. I’m so good. And I’m getting better every day. The practicing is getting so high-level and sophisticated. My fingers are getting more adept, dextrous and deft. I really enjoy the sound I’m making.

I met with an old friend this evening. He, like many people who care about me asked me if I had ever thought about seeing a therapist. I told him I had, but I also told him there were two reasons I had not.

First, and it bears mention, I am not in the Canadian health care system. This is an obstacle that I have not surmounted, but it is surmountable.

Why haven’t I surmounted it?

I’m not convinced that I am wrong. I’m not convinced that I should pack up and go home on my aspirations, my higher ones. True, massage has a place in my life and I want to develop that over the longer term. So I will do this course. I need to do it, to pave a more streamlined future track for myself down the road.

In the interim, I can still live in Hamilton I think. It’s not Berlin, or Paris, or Amsterdam, but it has something. And there is family here; my military regiment.

I love to spend hours at the cenotaph, playing by the new monument for the war in Afghanistan. As I play, improvising over the same few chords over again, and really going for it musically, the guitar migrates to my right side, I pull my right shoulder back to accommodate the new position and I feel waves of release pulsing through my arm, shoulder and back. A healing is taking place at a deeper level and I work through things mentally and emotionally. Clarity comes.

My guitar is going to be all I have for a while. I think I am ready. It’s not the biggest piece of debris scattered around the shipwreck but it will float my weight.

It may not be the biggest cross on the hill but I think I can die on it.

-Dre

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