Lost And Found

Hey all, or those of you who still check for a pulse from this space. It's with some contempt (for self) and obligation (to self) that I get re-established in this franchise. It's like leaving someone or something good for no good reason other than cowardice and then being too afraid to look behind at what's left.

Eventually enough time goes by or enough things happen that you just want to tell someone or anyone that will give you enough time and listen. I've been to lots of places that must be cobble stones to the doorstep of Hell but then again I was never that good at following the beaten path so I didn't manage to dance with El Diablo and I'm still waiting to see what tricks the Magic Man has up his sleeves before I slip off those shoes.

Having the load of life/shit that was dumped on and swam in by yours truly at the beginning of the year sure made it hard to see clearly what was in front of me. Surviving was living and that kinda living makes waving the white flag an appealing option. When you're tired of it all, enough so that you pretty much fall asleep at your boss' desk as he's dressing you down, it seems the way to go. Problem is though, when there's that much of __it flowing, there ain't much that stays clean and I needed something to wipe the windshield so flag option was out.

Everything seemed far away and the only things that seemed close weren't friends, relatives or hope. It was during those times when I understood how people who chose not to stay the course could fall prey to the grips of the drugs and drinks. Fortunately I'm Chinese and I have an inborn allergy to some (all) alcoholic products so that option was automatically ruled out for me. As for the other option, I've seen enough of what little substance is left after the substances have passed their course that I left that sleeping dog lie.

I wanted someone to reach out to me and pick me up to tell me things would be ok and know it to be true. I needed something tangible in front of me, something I could count on every time when I wanted it. I was needy. I was selfish. As such, I was left with arms wide open, clutching at anything and everything forgetting to raise the proverbial umbrella only to drown a little further when I lifted my head to curse into the downpour. I've never been one to not "be there" and the times when I needed a fraction returned I grew accustomed to disappointment to the point when surprise greeted a connected call.

Left wanting, I sought the company of quantity as clearly quality was something I found to be beyond me. Who and what I needed wasn't there or just not able to help. Misery shackles you with interesting bed fellows both figuratively and literally and the final disconnect between the physical and the emotion/factu/actu/sexu/spiritu/al had me a step away from being the furthest from who and I what I considered to be "me" I'd ever been. When it gets to the point where the things you love doing and experiencing don't matter, there's something seriously wrong.

As previously mentioned, somewhere between here and Hell I got lost. I can't really remember where it was that happened, I can only say that it did. It started with wanting to get back to writing in an act of re-connecting, but with what I wasn't too sure of at the time so I didn't. The thought was there so I let that count for something. Fools credit, but I had to get it from somewhere.

As it should be for everyone out there, but unfortunately isn't always the case, my redemption started with my family. I've gone on about them before and how much they mean to me and how great they are both individually and even more so as a whole. In their own ways they sunk a few hooks in, here and there, and carried about their unusual awesomeness. Eventually the tides began to recede and I was held far enough out of the undertow to get a foot hold.

We're not always a touchy, feely bunch but we know how to get it done when we need to. I guess if there's ever a group of people you don't want to give up on you, it'd be anyone in my family. Yes, I know there's a certain degree of personal bias there but trust me it only takes us once and we'll have you signed up. Yeah, there are times when we want to kill each other and we each think the others are useless twits but when the time comes we know where to turn.

There's a lot that's happened since my feet were planted again and I look forward to processing much of what has transpired. Hopefully there's still an audience to read about it when those times come.

So if you see any of these faces looking at you and you're wondering what the hell it is we're looking at, we're probably laughing at something but ready for anything.

My Two Pence Worth (an excerpt from the biography of Jimmy Ryan, fallen rock star)

My arrival in London was met with little fan fare. I had gotten used to porn queens and throngs of adoring women showering me in tidbits from their unmentionables drawers as soon as I stepped out, beshaded, from whichever plane I had arrived on.

My disappointment was palpable as grey skies loomed, threatening but failing, like The Bravery, to live up to their potential. My limo was nowhere to be found and I had to sift about the common as though I were but a speck amidst a dripping shower of colourless faces. Had I been forgotten in such a short absence?!?! My agent was so fired.

Celebrity is such a fickle and fantastic thing. The women, the blow, the cars, the complimentary face towels and pillow-top candies. Fick, what the shit was up? Culture had spun and lost me from a 45 to a 74 min crystalline coaster.

Somehow counter culture's 'Cid And The Smack Bunnies had pussied into a putrid slur of rhyme spinners whose talent couldn't amount up to the monetary worth their self-given names suggested. I want my 50p back. If not that at least a 20p spot to use the phone box. What about a mobile you ask, seems if you let lapse a bill payment or 5 they cut you off. Virgin ... Funny how with a name like that, one entity knows exactly how to fuck you.

Phone coinage in hand, its method of acquisition un-mentionable lest some equal rights, pro-soy milk conglomeration throw up their arms and hang me from the dangling pit hair, I rang up the only stupid c*nt I figured would be half arsed to pick me up. Funny enough, that's exactly what his nickname was in China when we lived there 6 years ago.

Jason answered and agreed on one condition, that I find him a father's day card for a man whose style I can only describe as Sahara-esquely dry. I acquiesced half thinking it would be fun to sort him out with a picture of a tot hugging his father with a caption underneath sayin, "this is a hug you rigid sod, would it have killed you to give me one growing up?"

After some consideration I decided against it, but had I known it would have taken me back into the bowels of Heathrow to find one, I might just as well have xeroxed my own middle finger and sent that off instead and watched with glee when the envelope was opened. The devil, I know.

After settling with a classic hot rod driving in gray and white glory into the desert, I set about finding my ride. I was half expecting him to have some sort of luxury sports car or something fancy so imagine my surprise when I found him with his car in all its green Mini glory. Mildly shaken, yet somewhat not stirred, it all seemed par for the course.

He hadn’t changed one bit since the last time I saw him; Disgustingly good build and looks of mixed heritage, a familial fortune waiting in the wills. Every friggin’ reason in the world to loathe him, yet a clown prince melded with panache and utter absurdity he was, and God was it good to see him.

I’d heard also that he’d gotten a proper gig with some degree of professional responsibility but I just couldn’t see it. This comedy of errors shackled with propriety… Like me given another chance, a fist full of money, locked in a room of sexy and seductive vices on one side and redemption on the other, it just didn’t seem at all plausible.

After a warm welcome and genuine hug (possible the only real thing I've experienced in at least a fortnight. Well there was Angelique and those were lovel... oh wait, nope.) I was loaded up, luggage wise, and we were off along the M25 to the house in Henley.

Before the all mind numbing, "how're you doin" could get asked, I was informed that it was my duty as passenger to keep my eyes open for any nursery that was open. I even had my limits when it came to a potential dating pool and I was in no way going to participate in anything that could see me back in the hag rags for all the wrong reasons. (again)...

After my slightest "what the fuck" protest, he explained that we had to find a flowering plant or two for his father's present. I thought the card would have sufficed especially since I had been the one to find it, and didn't even want to think of what I'd have to go through to la-botanize myself...

As we drove I began to wonder if strapping myself in was enough protection. I'm a firm believer in putting on a helmet when the situation deems it necessary... but I figured a trip down the motorway to pick up plants was a safe bet not to be one of those. As we flung again and again through the round-about while Jason consulted his mother which exit we should take, I nearly opted for the open door... surely death would be the end result either way.

After shopping for orchids and the what not we did the next most non-gay thing possible and hit up the vendors outside the nursery for ice lollies... "Ah sorry, out of money at the moment, do you mind?"... "Fuck you, Ok".

TBC'd

Caught In A Web The Spider Left Behind

I gave her my heart, take it she (w)could not.
Wondering if I hadn’t, what fate may have brought.
Circumstance cut us down.
Thoughts of her I try to drown
Out my mind as has often been the case,
My own reflection I avoid to try and save face.
The world I would have given,
Cruel reality, my world has taken.
Reminded each day of what once was,
Fond memories mask some of our hidden flaws.
Move on I try yet still she remains,
I hated and hardened with contempt and disdain.
For why had I fallen with nothing to hold?
My hands searched deep finding only fool’s gold.
The anger, a façade lasting but a few days,
Set forth on a new path to find a better way.
So let go of her I did with nary another sight,
Looking from afar as her wings took flight.
It stops me dead to know I may not have mattered
Dwell on it I won’t, lest my mind get tattered.
I am a better man through my time with her,
That feeling I’ll know again in the future.
Though further away with each new smile I meet,
Every time I see her name my heart still skips a beat.

If Everything Were Easy...

Have you ever sat down and tried to write something meaningful and have it come out a broken toilet's load of crap? Ok, that in and of itself was rather er... shitty, but I digress. So many things to think about... Should I worry about the person I'm writing about reading this? Should I worry about what people reading it will think about me or the person I'm writing about?

*Wow, I just saw a maxi pad commercial where the tag line was "Have a happy period". *
REALLY!!!???!!!???

The rawness of it all goes down a few layers despite my best attempts to outwardly portray it as a superficial knick. Everytime I start up on it, I run away from it like a coward facing the truth. So here's to hoping I get it right the next time I try, lest I end up pulling a Homer.

: )