no doubt, get loud

I dig you, darling.
Would you please get the fuck out
of my head awhile?

The earth I trudge on
groans, shrieks cautiously, and sighs,
reminders anew.
June 2005, Redondo Beach, California.
Minutes before I moved to Las Vegas.
All I can do now
is pretend I cannot hear,
save for the gavels.
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The consensus lately amongst folks who take time to zero in is this: I’m tired.


Those folks happen to be right. I’m tired emotionally, often tired physically, and my spirit suffers. I’m considering my options, and actively seeking correction for each offense.






Some backstory. I would consider myself to be a bit of a caretaking sort with people I get to know on a deep personal level, be it friendship or otherwise. I believe it’s something I inherited from my late gran, and chose to keep around in my behaviour.


While we may not be able to help in ways that matter to modern society (read: material items we crave), we offer help in ways that people need but cannot or do not typically voice. A shoulder to lean on, a sympathetic but non-coddling ear, warm words, a hug. A genuine many-volted smile. These gestures are extensions of our very core, things that we do for the sake of furthering someone’s well-being.






I may never know, but I do wonder if my gran grew weary of this sort of routine at certain intervals. To give, you must take out of yourself, being fully aware that you may never see those portions return. 


Investing in others is risky business, though that is not always obvious. Hindsight burns, and we begin to doubt. Our idea of ‘wise choice’ becomes skewed, compromised. We blame ourselves for bad situations.

July ’11, Trout Lake, Vancouver, British Columbia


Reflection is vital. Survival is good temporarily, but in the long run we must find something better to sustain us. Living, giving and not losing too much of our identity, spirit, and ambition must endure.