Curiosity killed the cat?

Damn, sometimes I scratch my head in wonder at my thoughts. I can lie awake at night at times, not able to sleep, and my mind just races like the Autobahn. Continuous circles of an endless road that stretches on for what seems forever. Then I wake up, albeit groggily, and give thanks for the coming day; it just always seems that my raceway seems to follow right along. Most of the time though, my memories have a way of forcing their way in, and for a while the race heads in for a pitstop. Then I get the opportunity to remember a time when, and eventually put that into print. This would be one of those times. Here you go, and may you enjoy...

It's like you hear a timer being rotated in circles, and you know you only have a small amount of time in a place, before you hear the ding of the bell. I speak of travelling all the time, but that is only because it is good for the soul, and that so many of my friends feel the same. Brasil is going to Miami, California is in Thailand, Canada is headed to New Zealand, and Newfoundland is going to America. We are all searching for the ring that I feel is close at hand for this cat; all it depends on now is not "if" it happens, but when it happens. When my forehead slammed into the ground, I could almost hear the ding going off in the background...for my race was only just beginning, and so no time limit can ever be enforced on me. Scattered images of a broken body, confused mind, and an insatiable thirst in those days. There was a hunger to heal, to rebuild and mend what was willing to be remade.

I knew my back was okay the day I flew off the lip on Mount Washington in Vancouver Island, and ended up catching my edge on the take-off. I was roasting at the roller and was in mid-rotation when it happened. It sent me about 8 feet in motion until I slammed into the solid groomed snow below. The collision was hard, quick, and I landed straight on my bankroll; sending my jacket up over my chest, and exposing my once-broken-back to the cold snow. I slid another 10 feet at high speeds, upside down, and laughed the whole entire time. I could feel the quickly heating snow all along my lower posterior, but didn't care about the burn...I was riding again, and nothing else mattered anymore. I remembered how I stood at that same base in the opening days of season, and how I gave thanks that I would be able to go snowboarding again. Then, had the same lifestyle show me that things are always going to be fine. Just trust, believe, and enjoy the ride. The freedom it allows, the soft surf on the wave of snow, and the timer is always on for the search. I can only compare it to travelling to a new beach, surfboard in hand, and finding a break so sweet that you ride it everyday that you are there.

Now, here I sit at a computer on the East Coast, coming back to the present day and time. The sun breaks through the clouds, showing promise for the coming night. Blink, and a day passes; open them and another begins. It all comes down to friendship, people, it all comes down to friendship. From there, you grow the confidence to explore and reconstruct your comfort zone, ready to head out and lay your own tracks. For me, it all comes down to this - if you are feeling like selling everything you own, storing the rest, and taking off into the dawn like a bandit in the night...then what are you still doing here? Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it will never dent the soul of the survivor. I mean, forward progression is the link to survival, is it not? It's all good, my man, it's all good.

Hold on McGinty. Hold on.

"Every man ought to be inquisitive through every hour of his great adventure down to the day when he shall no longer cast a shadow in the sun. For if he dies without a question in his heart, what excuse is there for his continuance?
- Frank Moore Colby

Perpetual chaos...

This is the story of a man on a quest, of a journey full of low roads, and high valleys. It is of a writer's concept and the memory of a boy's life; both worthy of being heard. What he learned along the way is not the main focus anymore, or the dream he chased across oceans and mountains...to realize that it was not to be. No, this particular epic has to do with letters, words and images sent out to a person who knows what I write; and what really lies between the lines. Life is all about the paths we travel, the friends we meet, and the search for a soul to share. They say only fools rush in, and many times I have proven that theory to be true; my heart forever the innocent bystander. But, not so long ago, I gave that same heart to one I knew I could trust, and through it all, has never been one to let me down. What is left behind is shut-down, resting, and will one day be ready to search again. For now, I can only stay the burn of time, and not blindly rush where fools trod. I have no idea exactly what it is that I am starting, I only know that a moment is upon me. Here you go, and may you enjoy...

I remember lying in front of my fireplace one night, and I was running my hands over the lower back of the girl laying next to me. She held a presence I had never felt before, and her company was a welcome retreat. I thought she was asleep...then I heard a voice ask, "Have you ever had a threesome?" I won't bore you with the rest of details, but, suffice to say, my reply was, "Well, yes...but, technically, no."

Love can play such games on us. Just when you think it has arrived, it is showing you the door. My row of impostors still stand strong and clear, now so much the more that I am coming near. I am coming to the truth of knowing that we all play games; some we win, some we lose. The game of love is one in which we all play, and sometimes the stakes are higher than we bargain for...but is it not the same result we all play for? If you were to ask me what my love is, I would answer, "I have not met her yet." If you were to ask me what my passion is, I would answer, "I want to be a writer." It is my obsession that can sometimes seem to be the trouble that rides both their coattails.

I think love would cause nothing but havoc now, since it seems I am falling into perpetual chaso again. I am shutting down old beliefs, reworking new plans into future goals, getting back to a feeling of living my life as my own again. Amazing experiences always seem to follow suit with that feeling...good times in the Maritimes.

Hold on McGinty. Hold on.

"And ours is a road that is strewn with goodbyes
As it all unfolds; as it all unwinds
Remember your soul is the one thing that you can't compromise."
- David Gray

Forgotten friends...

Well, well, well...so a friend of mine, oh let's call her Emily, said that my last couple of writings were not the same as my originals. She mentioned that she is a fan of them, but that she prefers when my words are more exposed, more raw, and open for interpretation. Here is one about friendships that come and go, some that stay the ages, and others that fall to the wayside even after you thought they would forever be there...and then there are others that always continue to amaze and comfort the soul. Here you go, and may you enjoy...

So many souls have come and gone in this man's life, and as they pass through, I always sit back and wonder...do they know how they take a piece of me everytime they say goodbye? That my heart grows stronger with their presence, and misses their words when they are not around? To you who have broken and slipped through my walls, have gotten to see the person I really am versus my facade, to those who want to make the road trip through life with me, I say thank you for making my life that much sweeter...

But to those who chose to disregard me, and think that I would forget them, I have this to say: you seem to have forgotten who I am. To those who misunderstood me, mistook me for a punk, or even thought they were better than this cat, y'all need to stand back and look in the mirror. I did one day, stood there and gazed upon my countenance, eyes all blacked out, nose shattered, a body cast on my frame, and an ugly gashed up scab in between my eyes. I can still feel my hands gripping the porcelain sink, holding my body straight, without shame, and only a little shock...and coming to a realization that although they tried, they cannot kill my soul. Pain? What is that but weakness leaving your body...sadness? Only a reason to cry and still be a man; to know that although the body may break, it is the soul that allows for survival. Through the years since, I have come to see that we need not always walk alone; that at times it is okay to lean against a strong shoulder and rest my tired bones.

So, an old friend has come back into my life after a fourteen year absence. He stopped me on the street in recognition, where others who only saw me a year ago couldn't recognize me. I have been called a chameleon, and a person always in the process of reinvention. Yet, here was my man taking the time to perceive what it is not always apparent, and stop an old friend once forgotten. He is one who has seen much death, much stupidity of human actions, and has dealt with loss of his own. So, it now only makes sense that we would become tighter than tight, hang like time never passed, and I hold bond that he has my back...because he feels mine strong against his, ready to back up whatever calamities may come our way.

Nights of silly debauchery, smoky roads of future paths, and an understanding that what came before only lays the foundation for what comes next. Head up, shoulders straight...now march. It is only with our heads held high that we see what is ahead of us, no matter how foggy the view, no matter how rocky the road, no matter how many times we feel alone...maybe that is when we are being carried in the arms of a friend.

"We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, what do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence."
- Joseph Roux