My guide

He's the coast in my ocean. The reason I'm kept inside. Surrounding me. Healing me, he's his own ocean. A sea. We are seas. Seeing myself being a father.

I am a father.

My son means enough to me to have changed the world.

It's incredible. He's on his own journey now. He always was.

it only has so much to do with me. He's gone through more than most youth his age. There will be time needed for his life to settle in.

The things we all live through, that rip us into our own path. Our own life. He's presence guides my balance. We are so set to see. He's balancing on his own and it's scary for me.

 I'm back, to be here alone.

That's ok. We're all alone. Life is a chance to connect. Life is gentle and healing and .... a Mother.

gut

Jungle Bed

Toby

Jeff, Jeff! What did you do today?

Jeff

What the fuck are you talking about Toby I was right here with you.

Toby

The Two of us just walked around circles, we didn't even clean the kitchen.

Jeff,

Fuck man it's clean, like what the fuck do you think is happening? did you think we we're going to get everything done by this afternoon?

Toby,

Kind of, like come one we need that money in like a week,

Jeff, 

we won't make it that quickly, that's a crazy idea, 

Toby,

what that fuck are you talking about we're geniuses. You know it and I know it,

Jeff,

yeah, but we have to stick to the plan.

Toby

I am.

The two of them sit in the living room. Both stoned and the apartment is smoky.

Toby, 

we're both so stoned,

Jeff,

doesn't change the fact that we're prepared. I ve done this stuff. I've thought this threw.

Toby,

"Laughing"

yeah right, Jeff "thinking"

Jeff 

yeah, like what the fuck are you talking about, totally yes. I m right and don't laugh at me. 

Toby,

you know what, I don't want to wait, give me my money back.

Jeff

"looking up at Toby squinting stoned"

Shut the fuck up, you're not getting that money back for at least three months!

Toby,

what? three fucking months

Jeff 

Like I said

Toby 

oh yeah, you did 

Practice

Been getting up later and later, the jet lag has moved along.

It's been a great week, all I do is think about shit day in and day out.

I want to organize the thoughts and put them somewhere so they become more coherent in general.

Im able to manifest them to a certain extent. Im using my idea that if I put my dreams on the internet they'll manifest themselves into something that's real.

The digital world is a pre curser to what's to come. I use it to cut through the jungle of reality. To pave the way.

Blogger is the BossBlogs BossVlogs Itsyourphoto.com so much of me was born on Blogger, and I have to say that I like it.

Life has been a roller coaster though, but not in a bad way, in a fun way.

I seem to create more space in the writing then I used to.

I double space and I wan a donair. It's been years since I drove the taxi. I miss it but I don't think it's for me.

I threw up in the back of an Uber, an AMG in Monaco. It was crazy.
Fuck me what did I do today.

I spent time with my mom.

and I'm going to practice writing a screen play.

&69798

drawing the bluebrint out on all levels. Everything seems to be coliding, but then again it always has.

Our life has a meaning we are the direction we set for ourselves. Looking back I became that young cabby who wrote his dreams out in a blog.

Looking back I realize I was just learning how to dream.

Dreams are not monetary. Our lively hood relies on something. Spellcheck.

I can't spell naturally, or at least I write that, but I'm writing that'll cure the spelling issues.

Back to the Blue print, I want to meet the Wolf of walls tree! He's an author an con artist and he's worked with people that I admire. I am going to meet him. 2013 I remember the film. I went to see it.

Leo is one of my favourite actors.

The Jordan Belfort is a favourite protagonist.


2020 the Boss Fam Manifesto ..


we're going to meet the bosses of our world, and ask them one thing.

What did they want to do when they were a child.

I can remember being young, I never wanted to be alone. I always wanted to be with my friends. It was a weakness thinking back. I always felt so vulnerable being alone.

Then again there were the times when I was happy to be alone. On those days where I stayed home from school and I was all alone until everyone came home,

Those were the days where I found myself now.

Thinking about what it was I was doing.

Playing, imagining, being happy not to have to be in school. School did not matter in hindsight.

I think I need to read a manifesto before I try to mimic one. I may not like it. This is just a ramble.

Not fiction either but also not a diary post. What is this shit... fuck. It's rarely re read and its published before I know it.

Chemo life!

There was yesterday when I found out that my mom is going to have to go through Chemo therapy. It was so harsh because she's going to have to go through it twice. Once before they cut out her lung and then once right after.
My mamma is so important. she made me. and I love her.

It hurts to have to know that she s gonna have the meanest surgery

I think of the doctors that are doing the cutting.

My mom has always adored doctors.

 I don't like them so much.

I think my mom liked them and they were always just bullies, spoiled fuckers that didn't respect her like she should have been.

They better be tender with my mom. because she's beautiful and so amazing and sweet.

If you ever met her you'd like her, all my friends did. Always, even tho I tried to scare them.

My mom is so attached to my soul. It's scary to think about her dying... being sick.

I can think about offing myself so much easier then what the world would be like if she wasn't here.

In a lot of ways that speaks volumes about me. Who the fuck do I think I am.. only reason I'm not scared of dieing is because I'm still so lucky to be attached to those that love me.

I can't imagine what it would be like to be cut off ....

there are so few moments where we fear for our lives. People are cradled, wrapped and held in this blanket that lets you forget about the fragility of life.

Life grows just like that cancer I want to kill, it spreads with such ease it almost

There was the two of us. "It's been over a year since we started going with each other" I mentioned to her. She was lovely sitting in the sun on the patio of the cafe. It's been a year and I feel like we should  be getting married.

Looking up at him made her sick. She was hung over from the night before. "Of course you want to marry me. I'm ten times more than you'll ever be" she said looking at me from the sun lit spot. It was warmer where she was. " I have something to tell you and I think it may sound a bit sour." She puckered up her lips and made a kissing noise.

"What's up?" I asked sitting up from the shade. It was getting cooler. I wanted to get close to her. She got up and stud next to the pool. "I was never really up for this" she said pacing.

"Up for what?" I asked.

"This!"

Social Problems 101

Three ways to "Class it up" she said to us, in the class room, it was 6pm and I did not want to hear it.

"What the Fuck do I need to class myself up for" I whispered to my class mate, he shrugged and laughed.

"You're fucked if you don't rise above where ever the fuck you're from" he said to me pretty sternly. How was it that this 300 pound kid had anything over me.

"I can out run you" he said to him.

"Yeah but instead you choose to get high you loser." He exhaled. He was right I was high, it was a night class and I didn't care about "Social Problems 101"


"To say the least the first thing we need to address as a society is that our population is out of control." She wrote it on the board. I was so high, I had eaten some brownies that my roommates had made, they were so good and I was so hungry so I ate a bunch. The were laced with weed. I was almost asleep.

"Anti social behaviour is on the rise in our cities and in our man stream media" she blurted, in a way that made me want to listen less and less.

"Social problems come form being too generous to the peasants" I could smell his breath when he said it to me. I was getting more and more stoned as the weed started to kick in. I burped and I could taste it. People don't need to have homes, they don't need to eat and sleep as much as they do." I could hear him whimpering next to me.

"If you want to rise about the rest you need create a world around you where there is no bullying." Was the last thing I remember her saying.

"No bullying?"I asked myself but spoke it loud enough that she looked back at me.

"Yes Bullying, and not bullying others, that's not the problem" she mentioned.

"What do yo mean?" I asked all baked from the back of room 101.

"We bully ourselves" she said, and it hit. I was alone.

Paper Boy

It was always cold, but I was lucky because I had to deliver the papers in my apartment. It was this huge complex actually that ran about a kilometre, two stories snaking in a zig zag for probably over a thousand meters.
I had this basket on wheels that I put the Edmonton journals in. I had to deliver a stack that filled the container.
"It's not that cold" I'd say to myself as I stepped into the lobby of each unite. There were spaces that led from the hallways through to doors that led to the outside across into the next unite.

It was warm in the buildings, but it was dark. I can remember the smells. I was twelve and I remember watching an episode of one of those spooky nineties shows. A Friday the thirteenth. There was a kid, who was living in a house with a dying grandparent. People were nursing the person. The kid watched.

I don't remember the premise, but I remember that once the body of the dying person was gone  something else stayed.

No one noticed but the kid.

I remember those hallways and I remember a certain space where I felt the energy of that dying sprit, what ever it was. A grandmother, an old face, dead, Scary, and smelly.

It was my fist job, I got it when I was twelve and it was hard in retrospect. Up at 5 am every day to deliver paper and go to school. Looking back it shows my ambition.

I worked hard enough to make enough money to pay for my guitar.

I delivered the media to your house feeling haunted by the feeling of your dead gran mother.

This is my fare.... fuck so cool.

I love this blog and everything it's allowing me to feel.

Rats that don't die are expendable

His tooth is hurting, who cares? Not me I'm only his orthodontist. We're not paid to care. We are paid to not feel.
"Your mouth is changing" I told him, I'm a third year ortho student and I'm going to be rich. Women already love me and I already don't like my patients, and I've never really had one, being that I'm still a student.
Oh' this guy? He's not my actual patient, he's Dr. Moores. I'm just his student Orthodontist. My professor would get the blame if I fucked anything up.
"That tooth though? it looks like shit. Why haven't you braced it yet?" He asked me once.

"I was waiting for you Doctor to tell me what to do." The professor clapped,

"good boy," he'd yell.

The patients are always last on the list in the current medical industry. We're an evil culture in Canada that's doing it's best to put profit margins and excess for CEOs to the for front.

"I want to be rich and do as little as possible and make as much as possible that's my role as a Canadian going to the university of Alberta to become a doctor."

I wonder why so many of the students kill themselves and not their patients.

kite by then

It was cold outside,

"It's always cold in Canada! At least in the winter" said this little kid. 13 year old boy. At the Bar drinking a beer. A warm beer. With a shot of syrup. I know I poured it for him. He was this little foreign kid from Canada. What the fuck did I care.

"Because it's so cold where I am from people are hard. We have a darkness" he talked about Canadians like it mattered.

"You're only 13 though, what the fuck do you know about Canadians" I asked him once.

He stood up. This little fucking kid and with his Canadian accent he drunkenly yelled to me in Polish "I am a Canadian" then he slugged down his beer.

I saw him throwing up in the back latter that night.

No one cared.

shoot my dog

Walking into the basement of Steven's house was always fun. He had this awesome family and they had everything. That day though he opened the door to the garage. It was winter and cold, the night had already settled in so all the lights were on.

"I want you to see this Jake" he told me in a whisper. He was excited and I did not know what to expect. Then I saw it! A brand new car! It was so cool. 

"What kind is it?" I asked, never one to be overly interested in cars. 

"It's a Chrysler!" He said happily. He had to be eight and I was nine or ten at the time.

A new car would have been a big deal I guess, I had never really thought about it. We weren't getting anything like that at my house, but I did't feel separate from him. He just had a different lifestyle than we did.

"Kubasaw!" his dad would yell at me, My name "Kuba" short for Jake in Polish sounded like that to him. Bob was a rich guy I guess in hindsight, he was a union controller or something. He did important things.

"Kubasa" he shouted, "see that shit on my lawn?" he asked kind of in a joking way. 

I could see the crap in the snowy grassy knoll out front, "No" I'd say "I don't"

Then he'd say "I think it's your dog's."

I'd then say " No, I don't think so."

"I think it is" he'd respond.  "you need to keep a closer eye on that dog, you can't just keep letting him out at night." 

He was probably right, but "it's my dad that let's him out at night" I'd tell him. 

"Just keep a closer eye on him, you never know something might just happen to him."