"These doors close and we're chasing the sky

 This chaos brews and keeps us alive

 Why trade the world when the world is mine?

 Why give up now when all we've got is time?

Looking through this broken glass, 

these dreams invade the ceiling they could fall so fast 

but now we're knee-deep in this shit

Oh make it last

 A lifetime of wanting and waiting and deadly persuading

 The volume's too quiet now

 These tires' tread mark a special occasion 

 And my ears haven't stopped ringing out 

 As these notes are bellowed they'll rip you apart

 So let these flat chords just break your heart

 And who the fuck said we were giving up?

 Cause it's just begun!"

-lyrics from "this respirator" by The Flatliners

note to self...

Everybody has got a purpose
and everybody has got a dream.
The theory that fell into my head today around 3:15 PM was that there are many ways for a person's life to play out, depending on if they realize their purpose and/or their dream, and how they go about achieving it.

There are a few combinations to break down here and fortunately I'm in a great state of mind to explain in detail before I get hungry and lose interest.
The first thing that should be known in this theory is Purpose.
No matter what becomes of a person's life, wether it be lived and viewed as a great success or a tragic failure, the person in question will inevitably serve their purpose. This purpose could be a number of small, seemingly insignificant things, or one big memorable thing. And furthermore, it can occur in one spectacular moment, or at many different junctures in a person's life.
The Purpose could be good, it could be bad, it may even have a domino effect that could echo through time, producing a moment, event or occurrence that will never be feasibly traced back to its' origin. But that last thought isn't really important right now. I don't wanna get into time travel here - I haven't smoked ganja in quite some time.
The point to remember is that Purpose is inevitable, however, a person's Dream, if properly introduced and nurtured in the equation of life, can lead to an even great conclusion of Purpose.
Some people never truly realize their dream, and sadly, even if they do, they often don't believe in them-self enough to pursue it, or they make too many compromises that block the path to their dream.
Should a person feel strong enough to pursue their dream with full determination and focus, then they are sure to achieve it, or come close enough to be happy and feel complete.
In an incalculable amount of lives lived, a person's purpose is in fact the same or very similar to their dream, leading them to exactly what they are destined to be. Most of us have no way of knowing if our dream and purpose are running on the same line, and so it should be. If one knows their dream, they're half way there- the easy half. What is crucial for the rest of this person's life is staying resolutely on the path of their dream and working toward the goal with one question in mind; HOW to get there.
In some cases that are hard to swallow, a person may be destined with a purpose of dying in an accident or from a disease. They may be on their way to achieving their dream or may have even reached their goal and got to momentarily bask in the glory of their dream before death took them. Regardless of how tragic it may seem, it is far better to leave this world on the path of your dream than it is to be a lost soul, wandering until either death or meaning presents itself. If a person hasn't realized their dream yet, they need not worry, but they must also not waste time.

JANUARY 1

A year ago today, I was walking the grubby streets of Toronto with two enormous Great Danes and a good man we call Skip. It was 8AM, and I was still wearing my three-piece suit from the night before. Charlie and I had partied with her crew for a change, at a lavish restaurant hidden somewhere in a district of the GTA I had never heard of, and can't remember now. But I do recall the washrooms at the establishment. They were so unique and inviting that we slipped away to make love not long after the ball dropped.

When I woke up the next morning I was in a rare and unbelievable mood to do just about anything, despite the wickedly cruel hangover I had brewing in the back of my skull. I knew it wouldn't be long before it would manifest into a beast of a headache that would pretty much render me useless, so when Skip announced he needed help walking two giant dogs, I volunteered and was out the door, with a good-morning and good-bye kiss for Charlie and an arrangement to meet up for breakfast once everyone was up n' hungry. Then Skip and I hopped on a bus heading to the centre of town to pick up the dogs and begin the fresh day. The bus rolled straight for two blocks, then turned left, heading the opposite direction we had expected. I remember thinking "Great, my first move of the new year turns out to be wrong. Good start Wicks."

If you look back on all the previous days that began the previous new years, it's interesting to see how they differ in terms of where you were, who you were with, and what you did on that January 1st.

Back on the first of 2003, I woke up in a motor home in Pasadena, California with Matty n' Flan. We had drank so much the night before that 2 out of 3 of us had pissed ourselves. The first thing that happened upon walking out onto the streets was a stealth bomber flying low and loud (not stealth) over our fragile heads. We spent the day in the midst of the historical Rose Bowl Parade and saw Bill Cosby and Mr. Rogers.

Jan. 1, 2006, was a bitter cold day in London, Ontario, so I stayed in bed with Charlie and watched movies while nursing a viscous gash on my hand that I'd somehow acquired the night before. Maybe it was the bottle of cheap champaign that had been broken over my head when Flan and Franky crashed through the buffet table in a typical drunken play fight over nothin' but love. The only reason I remember this is because I still have a twenty dollar bill, almost completely covered with my own blood, which the bartender would not except.

This most recent first day of the new year, 2010, was spent on a beach in Thailand with Charlie and our friend Crystal. After jumping in the rejuvenating gulf of water and washing off the wild night before, we cruised around with no shoes and an appetite that none of us could seem to suppress. We ate and drank at three different huts on the beach over the course of 5 hours, stopping briefly to feed an elephant and to wash my shorts, which I had pissed in yet again the night before. It had definitely been a different New Year's Eve this time. We spent the entire night drinking Whiskey and sitting front row, centre of a talented blues-reggae band, who invited me up on stage to sing "Hey Joe" and then played on until 2AM, ending with the greatest rendition of Marley's "No Woman, No Cry" I have ever heard. Afterwards we all burned one down, I fell off my bar-stool and scraped my arm horribly, and Charlie and I got lost walking home. It was a banner evening. It's too bad every day can't be January 1st, but on the other side of that coin, I'm glad every night isn't New Year's Eve.