Friday, September 26, 2008

Aequitas: Insights

Piece of Sin

The best of the rest make fools
Of themselves, and abuse themselves
With remarks of "I'm confused."
And lost and used they wait upon their shelves
Like collectables, delectable
And ripe for the choosing.
But there's something undetectable
And it's something worth losing.
A mind could find it again
But the heart cannot,
For it's a little piece of sin
Lust, avarice, and sloth.


Demanding, standing
On grandiose delusion
Illusion, your confusion
Eludes your attitude
Of rudeness and lewdness
Too cruel and foolish
To seem like you belong
You're wrong, but strong
In devotion to your lies
Hypnotized and compromised
Realizing you despise
This guise and rise
Above, below, or
Love and sorrow
Or borrow the time
Selling the line
That you can't
Or won't, but don't
Pretend like you intend
To defend your independence
When friendless you stand,
Grand, but alone, a stone
Against a rock
And talk while walking
Cocky, locked and go
Away or stay
Whatever you say
Just say it today.

Read more poetry by Aequitas on Authspot

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Steve-o: The Star Wars edition

More recent random mutterings of the roommate:

Oh Yoda, you're the ugliest thing ever.

Luke…! Luke…! Comb…! My hair…!

Man, if I had a bionic arm like that, I'd shoot laser beams out of it. I'd be like pshew! pshew! I'd have it do all kinds of neat stuff. You guys suck. George Lucas, you blow.

I'm gonna eat those bush babies. I'm gonna suck their blood.

Play like a Ninja! Play like a Ninja!

And what about Darth Vader? He was totally rebuilt. Why doesn't he have a laser penis? He should've had a laser penis.

Why does the emporer have a German accent? They make all the bad guys German in these movies.

Learn to ekthpect the unekthpected? How do you ekthpect the unekthpected?

Welcome to the Ice Chamber of Shangri-la!

That reminds me, I need to go to the liberry. I need to find my liberry card.

I hope the Ewoks win. I hate it when the Ewoks lose.

The preceding sentiments are not endorsed by FWG, or anyone long ago in a place far, far away.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

The waiting is the hardest part

ICU West.

His nurse is expecting me. She calls to me and leads me around the corner to bed five.

He’s moving like a bug trapped on its back; not thrashing; he’s too weak for that and too sedated but he’s moving; legs kicking in slow motion; arms rising and falling. His head rolls back and forth. His eyes are very slightly open. Tubes are wired into his puffy wrists and into his mouth and down his throat. There are bandages on his legs. I have no idea why, unless they extracted something there for use in the bypass surgery. Gadgets and displays surround him in a great arc. There’s enough computing power hooked into him to launch a mission to Mars.

I wasn’t ready for this. He’d been motionless when I’d seen him previously; in essence, comatose.

“He’s very fidgety right now,” says the nurse. “I’ve just upped the dose of [whateverdrug – Trazipan or some damn thing] to try to get him to sleep. He didn’t sleep well last night.”

I wouldn’t either with a goddam pipe down my throat. “When can he come off the breathing machine?”

She explains their difficult position. It might just be the tube that’s making him so ornery but if they take it out and it turns out not to be the cause – the situation could be dangerous.

“Is this a bad time for me to visit?”

“No. It’s probably a good time. You might be able to calm him down. Try to convince him to sleep.” She moves away from us.

“Hey Dad.” I step closer and lean down. “Hey Dad.”

His legs slow. His head turns in my direction. His eyes open wider for a moment. His lips and throat are moving.

“Are you trying to talk? Don’t try to talk. You got that tube down your throat.”

“Is it driving you crazy, that tube? Listen, you need to be as calm as you can. You got to try to live with it for now, you know? They can’t take it out until you’ve been calm for a while. You need to cooperate with these guys. The nurse says it’s best if you can sleep for a while.”

“You’re lucky, you know. This is a great hospital. These doctors and nurses – they’re the best. I trust them. I think they know what’s best for you, you know? And I know Judy thinks so too.”

Three different wavy lines undulate across a monitor. One of them is his heart, I assume, beating, blessedly, again.

“I’m really glad you got this operation. I’m looking forward to – I’m looking forward to seeing you recover, and how much better your health will be after.”

“I love you, Dad. No, don’t try to talk.”

“It’s a little strange; this one-way conversation. I’m used to being more of a listener, you know?”

I’m touching his shoulder. His arm rises, whether to hold my hand or to punch a hole in the ceiling, who knows. I hold his big puffy hand.

“I’ve been talking to Judy a lot. I know we hardly ever talk, you and me, and when we do, you always say it’s great to see me and I should call more often, but you never call me. So I’ve just always thought it’s a bit of a game, you know? That you’re just trying to be kind to me; to make me feel wanted. But I’ve been talking to Judy and she says, no, it’s not like that. So I guess I had it wrong. But I want you to know that I gave Mosaic my notice. And I want to move back to Hamilton for a while. And I’d like to see you as much as you want. Every day if you want. I mean that.”

A tear runs down his cheek. Maybe it was there before. Maybe I didn’t notice until now.

I look around and search for things to say; to pass some time.

“I’m really excited about the future. My life has really changed, you know? And I think it’s gonna be the same for you. I think there are a lot of possibilities coming out of this. Healthier lives for both of us. I really look forward to talking to you about these things when you can talk again. Hopefully soon if you can just find a way to put up with all this shit; to be calm, you know? To do what the doctors ask you to.”

His eyes are fully closed now. He’s barely moving.

I tell him hockey season is coming and his beloved Montreal Canadiens are looking like a strong team. Some predict them to lead the conference.

“I don’t know if you can hear me anymore, Dad. I don’t know if you’re sleeping or not.”

“He is,” says the nurse, coming up behind me. “Thank you. You’re timing was excellent. You helped him to sleep. He needed that.”

“Thank you for everything,” I say. I tell her when I’ll be back again for another visit.

I make my way out to the big double doors and push the yellow button to open them. The intensive care unit does not smell nice. I would very much like to never smell it again.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


Mr. Avitable has created his own meme. Link back to him if you decide to do it yourself:

My favorite age: 29.

My best friend: Porn King. But Doc Lock, Proffesor Plonk, Cap'n Vino, Rockin' Roddie, Jiggs, Matman and the I.S. are all too wildly special to go without mention.

My celebrity crush: None. Well - Mark Wahlberg if I had to choose.

My defining characteristic: I was once known as the Cigar-n-Guinness Guy according to certain bartenders.

My most evil moment: A letter in reply to an ex's letter when I was 18. Thought I was being clever but in hindsight was just cruel. Been hoping for a chance to apologize for years now.

My favorite food: Jerk pork from Mister Jerk, DQ peanut butter cup blizzard, trout paste, steak, saucy ribs, butter chicken, Tai spring rolls, The Keg's calamari, blue cheese, maple syrup with french toast, warm fresh bread. Excuse me, I need to go purge.

My grossest injury: I don't get hurt much but I was almost struck by a stream of squirting blood when an opponent's shot drove an errant helmet screw into my lacrosse teammate's head (the goalie). He recovered okay, by the way, no more brain-damaged than he was previously.

My biggest hatred: Been a long while since I experienced hate but my deepest mistrust - I'd have to say, my own ego.

My most illegal activity: Speeding, tax evasion, defecting from the Matrix.

My need for justice: I interact with natural justice. It regulates my capacity to experience joy. I think this applies to everybody but very few claim to be aware of it.

My most knowledgeable field: Human nature.

My life's goal: Harmony.

My mother's influence: Love. Unconditional.

My nerdiest point: God, where to start... Devoted half my energy in my youth to being a dungeon master (the other half to street hockey; I was awesome at both!)

My oldest memory: Waking up early the mornings after my mom's parties and drinking the dreggs of cold coffees left behind. Thank god she couldn't afford alcohol.

My perfect date: No comment. I'm committed to keeping this blog somewhat clean.

My unanswered question: How do I get there from here? And: Why don't I just get out the door and figure it out?

My random fact: I don't know how to whistle.

My stupidest decision: "Fuck it, I can jump from here."

My favorite television show: M*A*S*H

My style of underwear: Tighty whities.

My favorite vegetable: Barley. In liquid form only.

My weakest trait: Inherently lazy.

My X-men power: I'm a walking lie detector.

My strongest yearning: The I.S.

My moment of Zen: Gazing at the moon, stars or the empty page.

Friday, September 12, 2008

FWG: Dear Father

Though you believe you plainly see,
In fact you do not know me.
For I have purged all I thought I knew
And began this living all anew.

But my covertness for your comfort,
I can no longer maintain.
For a rightful task calls me to my feet
And now your blindness might soon retreat.

Your deeds were apt for self destruction;
A low straight line marked the end
Of your heart's fragile beating
But your death they are now cheating;
They, dressed in loose blues and greens
And all of their fine machines.

And now you too are reborn
If you should wish it and will it so;
If you will now learn to let go
And begin to purge the ways you knew
So to begin this living all anew.

Release those demons from your embrace!
And turn to the sky, instead, your face
And be stunned by the unfamiliar sun,
So brilliant is the new day.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

FWG: Code Blue

Better another and another cigarette
With every breath borrowed against terminal debt.
These charcoal lungs haven’t failed just yet.

Better another and another stiff drink
Then a lucid mind with which to think.
Wellness be damned! Let mortality shrink!

Shortness of breath is a portent of death,
Still the method of suicide be sold
By the pint, by the bottle, the pack or the carton.
A nice long drag it is, getting old.

Ignoring the signs; the future declined.
Such apathy in the glare of his danger,
But when skin’s pallor ices with alarm bell devices,
My, how they fly to the aid of a stranger.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Aequitas: Nightingales

Dread not the coming dark of night
The whispering winds
And hidden frights.
A pallid light washes over all,
The leaves, once green, begin their fall.

A silvery moon, thin and wan
A nightingale sings it's waking song
The glimmer of stars
Though something's wrong.
Here it will be, ere long.

Then a blackened sky
Storm clouds brew from on high.
Churning with the wind,
And I rescind into my nest
And hope and pray for the best.

A flash of light
Illumes the night
Caught me unawares.
For to my left, and to my right
A twin pair of stares.
Hollow stares, cold as death,
And I need rest,
For I'll be tested yet again.
And as the nightingales grow silent
The storm unleashes violence,
The night that never ends.

Friday, September 05, 2008

Film: Wascally Wabbit Meets the Big Hill


Wascally Wabbit: Stella

Man on stairs: Cap'n Vino

Director: FWG

Producer: FWG

Camera Technician: FWG

Grip: FWG

Chief Bartender: FWG

Assistant to Miss Stella: Cap'n Vino