Lately I’ve been very hard on lawyers: Which is low hanging fruit at best and… Being bound by some semblance of honesty I must concede that my own preconceived biases are contributing to a lack of trust and fears that are no doubt compounding the problem.

As much as I don’t like admitting this; these problems I am having with my lawyer is quite possibly more my fault than his.

The pace here could be breakneck and hectic if we can ever get started… And ‘If we are lucky’can actually stand up to the hype this might be a good one. However little is actually happening yet.

Abandoned Lawyers are shuffling to get into the starting blocks and yes the gates are closed and we’re off and flying.

Unanswered Prayers are breaking through on the inside rail for the early lead.

Unsigned Agreement is stuck on the outside and seems to be falling back.

Much Ado About Nothing is making a move to the inside and is being blocked by We Have A Settlement.

We are at the half way mark and Fuck You And The Horse You arrived On has come up lame and has left the track.

We are coming down the stretch and the pace is hectic. All Apologies is making a move!

Abandoned Lawyers is fading. We Have A Settlement is gaining ground!

A late change by Will Miracles Never Cease…

They are neck and neck at the wire and…

It’s We Have An Agreement!!

That was one hell of a race!

This thin veil of civility got leaner in the night.

We had the morals of the damned and a view that’s out of sight.

We are living on the inside, deep tunnels in our heads.

The safest place we’ve ever had are the dreams above our beds.

There’s a lesson in this history that the fears are sometimes fraud.

And all sinners loved the saints just before they fade to nod.

It happened at a party, the day after her 50th birthday…

They did have a celebration the night before for such an important milestone, however clearly not Grand Enough!

Her mother and sister were there laughing and dancing the following night, oblivious to the rage their joy and fun were causing.

No one could have known that the smiling woman at the round table who chose to sit with old childhood friends instead of her own family, was raging inside, that her mother and sister had such a wonderful happy loving relationship and that she was not part of that.

One of the most overlooked triggers in people who are miserable is the horror to be discluded. To be separated from; to not be included at the party.

Oh the hell there was and is to pay. They would know what wrath has brought!

Days later she was filling out a report at the police station, citing murderous intent. There must be justice! A warning of the danger to her and her daughter. Her daughter was not to be in the presence of her grandmother.

The fallout from this event has been nothing short of a tragedy.

A mother and daughter who have not spoken in 3 years.

A Sister who feels that she doesn’t have a Sister.

A father who said, “I am not saying my daughter is not welcome in my home however, whenever she is there; I won’t be.”

A child physically and mentally abused.

A mother losing custody of her child.

$100,000.00 in court costs!

A child who has not seen her mother in a year and a half.

False accusations of abuse.

All because of siblings jealousy over a mother’s supposed rejection.

And not a fucking scintilla of accountability for all the harm caused.

Negotiations are over.

Line is drawn in the sand.

Nothing ventured, and so much gained.

All or nothing and little planned.

In retrospect…

I NEVER remember the faces of those people who told me the truth. The cold hard difficult facts about myself, that I needed to hear in order to grow.

I block them out and take the message; it appears…

They are the Gateways.

Seems like a thankless task… so THANK YOU

Monday came early.

The year had began.

I decided on closure.

As a way to a plan.

Monday was surely.

First day of the week.

The sunshine did shine brightly.

On the brave and the bleak.

I recognized Cheryl from my time at the School of Fine Arts. I was working as a short order cook at ‘Bobo’s Bistro’ at the rear of the Cascade Tavern.

She smiled at me and approached. I am the furthest thing from a lady’s man as there is. I refused to use flattery as a matter of principles. I was stuck at the truth. I got that from my mother. The woman who told me my father was dead; when he was alive and well.

We ended up at her place which was the palatial log home of some absent nameless millionaire.

After a few drinks I found the courage to kiss her. She smiled and led me to a bedroom.

I settled in for a few nights until I blacked out, not remembering how I made it back to the rooming house.

Cheryl showed up at Bobo’s a week later and hissed at me. “You bastard! I was in pain for 3 days. I could hardly walk.”

“I’m so sorry Cheryl, what did I do?”

She dropped her fake rage when she saw my real confusion and hugging my neck, she whispered.

“It’s all good dear… You just gave me the fuck of my life.”

I was still apologizing.

“Stop it! I want you to come over tonight… can you?”

Cheryl had numerous lovers and I was too needy to tolerate that. She also seemed to get off on making her other lovers jealous. I didn’t play this game either.

Cheryl faded to memories… In my weakest moments I wished I had tried harder.

In reality I realized a relationship was not possible. I didn’t know how. I feel to hard. I wanted to much. No one could tolerate that much weight. Solitude wasn’t the answer however it would do until something better came along.

I knew I had to find my father. I knew he was alive. I knew he was in Toronto. I was born in Toronto. It would be like going home; I told myself. I had $500 when I arrived and headed to the nearest Tavern.

1980.

I lacked the confidence to shut up and listen. 

The drink helped with the paralyzing fears I was always dealing with. The reliefs came in short bursts of drunkenness and hangovers. I instinctively knew that one day, someday, this way of dealing with fears, would have to end. I just didn’t know when or how.

I feared almost everything, however what I feared most of all was humiliation. The drink always brought humiliation; which accompanied the shame which was followed by the drink. It was a vicious cycle.

I sat transfixed on the most gorgeous of women I had ever seen; an art student, early 20’s, with shoulder length brunette hair.

I feared I’d get an election in front of the class and refocused on someone less appealing.

A bizarre mix of art, horror and dread ensued.

The nude modeling gig came with $900.00, a room at the school for 2 weeks and an unlimited pass card for the school cafeteria.

In 2 weeks it was all over and I was unemployed again. I got a room in a rooming house in town, paying for a month.

During a question and answer session with the Artist in Residence, the brunette shared. “I thought the male model would be more masculine.”

My fears of getting an erection at the modeling gig ended there. The Artist in Residence smiled and said, “Dennis and Jackie have the same body types with the obvious differences of male and female.”

I looked over towards Jackie the female model to see she was still ignoring me

before returning my attention back to the teacher who continued.

“Recognize tone. Dennis is red. Jackie is green… if you get nothing else from this course, recognize tone.”

I looked at Jackie and her large beautiful green toned breasts. I saw tone for the first time. I saw my own red hues. Color was everywhere! My eyes were opened.

I left the mountains and traveled east. I bought paint and left the bars. Eventually the fears faded…

I lacked direction. How tall I had grown. I knew so much. I lacked direction and how to stay in touch. Travel west young man.

I met a man with a plan on the train traveling west. He got off the train in what he referred to as a ‘work town.’ It seemed rough or dangerous to me. Alarm bells were going off. So I stayed on the train traveling west.

The Rocky Mountains came into view. I thought of who I’d left behind and grew emotional. I needed a drink and found my way to the bar car.

My money was fading fast. I didn’t care. I just needed the embarrassments to leave me.

I don’t remember leaving the train. The feelings were gone with all sense of past taken with it.

The sun was bright, the temperature was perfect. Cool crisp mountain air. The sense that anything was possible swept through me for the first time. I paid my tent fees on Tunnel Mountain for a week. I hadn’t eaten in days guided by a moral compass based solely in Christian ethics: I would starve before I would steal.

My head refilled with memories of all those high-school friends I had left behind and most of whom I would never see again. We were all out here, somewhere, bumping into whatever came our way. Directionless.

At some point I realized that they all possibly had a plan. That is what they were doing back there. I got it too late.

I revelled in the freshness of it all. The air was perfect indigo blue and the water that ran from the mountains shone a strange emerald green in the river valley below.

I was filling out a job application for a dish washing job at the ‘Arts Center’ when this young woman approached me smiling. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a pink T-shirt that read, Art Matters… She was a beautiful strawberry blonde with green eyes

I looked behind me to see that there was not someone else she might be looking at.

“Would you like a job as a model?” She asked.

“Sure.” I answered. “I need a job.”

“I’ll be right back.” She said.

I put the application down and looked at the bloke beside me.

“Sounds good.” I suggested, hoping for the best hopeful response.

The bloke smiled at me and leaned in. “You know that she means nude, right?”

I felt my face grow red. The bloke laughed and the beautiful strawberry blonde returned.

“Let’s go meet the Artist in residence, shall we? See if you have the job.”

I followed her down a hall.

“Don’t you think I’m too skinny to be a model I asked.”

“No. You will do fine.”