The fight happened at what was supposed to be a dance. 

The irony can’t be lost here. 

I probably had the exact proportion of alcohol required  to neutralise my fears, I was a chemist like that🤣

Then all hell broke out.

I don’t know what I said; but I was throwing my jacket over my head with a lung full of rage directed at the melee and everyone just stopped what they were doing  and were staring at me.

The band stopped playing and all eyes were on me, mouths agape. 

Many years later I told this to a warrior trying to get some clues. 

He smiled and said, “They were looking at their own fears… you scared them.”

I don’t think I ever went back. 

Dennis Mantin 

 I was like a fly on the  Wall… 

Almost invisible, an annoyance at best. They showed me their true selves… exposè.

An advantage of growing up in the Foster System. 

Among the gifts of the  unwanted, is the view of humanity in their natural habitat unencumbered with expectations of natural civility.

The faces change on the revolving stage and in time you  begin to wonder if everyone in this unhappy tragedy is really this savage and cruel? 

My mother returned in the second act when I was  5, which I have been told is miraculously rare.

This taught me about love and vigilance and her very presence was a demonstration to the power of prayer. 

The delusions of power and control swim nervously through  the noise of their minds, grasping, clawing, searching their own sufferings.

I am right here, a child.

I won’t hurt you. 

Dennis Mantin 

I am afraid to go there.

My daughter wants to see my mother’s grave, so I must

So much buried there.

Dennis Mantin

I move more quietly now, not unlike a contented baby, except now the grey has taken hold. 

I have suckled from the breast of knowledge and have grown bloated… heavy in my contentment. 

I am preparing for the transition away from middle world  towards the unknown.

This will hopefully take much time as I am fond of life here, breathing, touching, seeing, loving. 

I may seem less passionate however it’s a mask covering the truth that I am not so eager to change others. 

Or maybe I have learned to steal from the sociopaths that surround me, or have I lost the will to care?

I don’t know. 

Dennis Mantin 

There’s a sandbar that stretches 12 miles into a Great Lake, and if you walk far enough down that sandbar, approximately 8 miles, is where you will find a nude beach. It’s a paradise of nature…
I have seen the sky here filled with Monarchs by the thousands, for here is a migration point for things that fly, like monarchs and ladybugs and many types of birds. However, the migrations are later in the year, in September, and this story was under a much hotter sky.
I took a woman who never experienced this and was curious and after what could only be described as a perfect day of sun and nature, it was time to walk back into the real world where people wear clothes.
She was happy and beautiful and relaxed and free, and I even saw humor in her inability to stop staring at the other nude bodies. The sun began to set on a perfect day, and I suggested we go back.
There’s a sign in the sand that leaves no doubt that beyond this point lies civilization and where I put on my shorts.
A mile on and several strong suggestions to the point that it MIGHT be time to put some clothes back on went ignored. Several people gave glances her way and returned their eyes to the sand.
By the time we reached the parking lot, I had reached a boiling point, and this is where that relationship ended.
On the drive home, I ranted and pined.
“What the fuck were you thinking about!?”
“How do you find it necessary to turn a perfect day into me yelling and wondering if it’s safe for me to take you anywhere, because I don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do!?”

Later in therapy in an attempt to understand my rage, and her behavior my therapist said.
“You may owe her an apology… your anger is understandable however I suspect she didn’t want, what you described as a perfect day, to end.”
Dennis Mantin

You tell yourself, “I could do this forever.” It’s not true. 

Magnificent wave after magnificent wave kissing golden grains of crystal sand under sun drenched blue horizons gets old after 7 weeks on a beach in Bali.

I remember the moment I realized I had had enough…

My daughter was 5 months old when we arrived and the beach was a 5 minutes walk from the villa and when we got close enough where she could either  hear or smell the ocean, I was never sure which, she would begin to shake and jump around in my arms with excitement and anticipation of that magnificent Indian Ocean. 

I hope everyone gets the opportunity to spend long enough at the beach to the point where you can say, “That’s it! I’ve had enough… I’m satisfied. ”

Dennis Mantin 

I remember the fears…

Shoulders hunched awaiting the smacks Sphincter tight, head down to avoid the inevitable wrath brought on by a look… How much more of this shit do I have to take from these monstrous psychotic pricks?   

An inner voice” Fight! Go for their eyes, their throats, fuck them up…”

The nervous smiles as I pass. The whispers… Now I’m the monster. 

Finally some peace 

DENNIS MANTIN 

Back in a time when I worked for the Stained Arrangers I did what was expected and at first they seemed pleased. I was their Shiny Doer.

I, at the time was of the opinion that there were 7 types people, those that could and those that couldn’t, those that do and those that don’t; those who would and those who won’t and those that don’t give a fuck. 

I definitely saw myself in the light of those that do, could, and would, with strong leanings towards not giving a fuck… 

In time I have learned empathy towards the Stained Arrangers, which is felt from the safe distance of a long time ago in a land far away. 

DENNIS MANTIN 

They’re not that cool! 

It’s in your head fool, all that chitter chatter…

DENNIS MANTIN 

The passion of Kevin Clark was apparent and written in charcoal black letters at his sidewalk home at Adelaide and Bay in Toronto in 1999.
“You’re standing on my home.” Kevin said to me as I waited for the light to change with the others.
“How would I know it’s your home?” I asked.
“Because my name is written right there.” He pointed to the letters written on the sidewalk.
N.I.G.G.E.R.
Kevin smiled as he watched the look of shame that crossed my face…

Rising from some ancient conscience.

He said, “What nigger means to me is probably different than what it means to you.”
“What does it mean to you?”
“Never is God giving evil respect.”

Dennis Mantin