There was a time, while I was making the acquaintance and becoming short-term friends with a man seated just outside Future Bakery in The Annex circa 1992, a rather cryptic statement was made by the fellow named Mike. He and I were in conversation, and during our discourse he responded to a statement I made on what appeared his many options in acquiring a suitable mate. He statement was, as memory serves, “I just don’t have the juice.”


Upon hearing this, I was brought up short for an adequate response to those words. I attempted to get a clarification on the content and context of his statement, but he remained silent leaving his reply to Time ’n my impending experiences.


To what was his response pertaining? What was awaiting, that I was to face with prospects of either ‘avoiding fatalism’ or simply ‘managing expectations’? What was to come in my life experiences?


Repeatedly, over the ensuing years, that exchange kept resurfacing which was to culminate in feelings of emotional exhaustion 25yrs. Conditions from which I am now recovering in this future-present. Although, our specifics differ, it is now my turn to exclaim those same words at the behest of others encouraging me as I did him.


Curiously, at the time of our exchange, he appeared no more than 5yrs my senior, if that.


Our way forward was accorded to our especial transitional life conditions, which was of much concern to be fortuitously actualized according to the content of our pre-existing lives. Our heritage, cultural biases and social standings place us as Fated. So, we went our separate ways to become what we became, go/grow as Life affords, accordingly…


Looking back, I marvel at what/how Life was/is unfolding. What’s in your reservoir?



In The 'Hot Seat'!!?



Have you ever stepped out your door and encountered occurrences along your walking that appeared circumstantial, yet could have far reaching effects that are outside your usual sphere of reference? Each indication tickles you ever so lightly beneath the surface of your consciousness warranting notice, and lingers just long enough to have a wide range of wonderment.


I have those kind of days, but this particular day provided a trail of breadcrumbs that had me list them on my way to a luncheon rendezvous.


The first was while crossing a side-street. There before me was ‘evidence of slow-moving squirrel’, roadkill is the common term. I always have an unsettling feeling when I happen upon such remains, especially when seeing them previously making such timely escapes.


Further on, as I came around a corner, I saw a ‘small-pooch wanting back into the arms of its female owner’. Mixed-feelings passed through me as I considered the pet was out for its relief and exercise, yet it sensed its disposition could acquire a comfort while providing one and such occurred. Curiously, the interplay was of a seamless nature as I noted it making my getaway.


Next, upon taking a short-cut through a neighbouring park, I happened upon an ‘owner being pulled in two directs by the two-bitches he had on leashes’. I noted he didn’t seem to be too disturbed while appearing irritated at the interchange occurring between the two dogs. A slight tug, to reign them in a specific direction and he soon had them headed within a comfortable boundary.


Upon leaving the park, I made my way to a major intersection and headed north. I passed a pedestrian heading south towards me, and as we were passing he gave an exclamation which I noticed was ‘directed toward the screen on his mobile device’. A customary occurrence in this digital age, yet an experience to which I am to become accustomed.

All the listed happenstances I noted prior to my luncheon meeting, all of which may mean nothing in the Grand Scheme of Things, yet I can’t help but wonder at possible relevance on some other level of existence. Somewhere out there, beyond my finite comprehension there may be something analogous or metaphorical of which I am none the wiser.


This line from a recent film, ’Looking for clues, but missing all the signs’ (Wind River) resonates, nonetheless.




7. 'Returning Home' Nine Twenty-Four AM



When I hear the phrase ‘Merry Christmas’ I’m flooded with mixed feelings. Not the socio-political controversial distraction that is hyped, although that realm does its levelled best to command focus. It’s more the experiential past that has indelible signposts etched on my emotions while observing the current goings on.


While watching an episode of ‘A Night at The Movies’ ~ S1/E4, the following ‘etched’ memories of Christmas’ Past flooded the forefront of my conscious mind.


The first was a memorable family outing to a photo studio where our family trio, mother-sibling-myself, were to have our portrait memorialized on celluloid. On this occasion I was to take a fancy to a dual lens Rollie-Flex Camera, which I was allowed to explore. I found its general functioning, especially a reflected inverted image atop the framed flip-up apparatus puzzled me. Without actually using it, I was fascinated!


Skip ahead a few years, while I was residing in a boarding-house, Christmas no longer our family trio affair. I was under the guardianship of the proprietors in a boarding house had established, albeit forgetful rituals of the season which was as uneventful an experience except for one memory of a neighbour’s home where a very large and well decorated Christmas tree resided. It was there I had a most ephemeral experience upon seeing ‘Angel Hair’ glow atop coloured lighting!


Days prior to the Christmas Day, I had the occasion to encounter my father on his motor-cycle coasting down the road towards me retuning from my meanderings. This encounter became an indelible moment. He made it clear I was not to expect any present that year. He explained it was due to my unremarkable school report. Interestingly, in that moment I couldn’t recall ever receiving any presents the previous years?


Jump ahead 7yrs, which at the time felt like an eternity, I was in my first attempt at university education where many friendships developed. One such friendship was to result in an invitation to the family’s home to celebrate Christmas. This, of course, was an occasion I accepted, since our family Christmas celebration often depended on the work schedule of the family matriarch. It was not until later did I experience similar ‘family’, with relatives, gathering. This invitation to a family Christmas Dinner, in hindsight, was a foretelling of what I would later experience over several times.


Skip ahead another 7yrs, there was another intervention Christmas. This time it was the birthday of my nephew. My sibling was in the hospital giving birth to her first and only. I was home for the holidays, house-sitting while awaiting the news. Curiously, the birth was but the tip of the iceberg of what was to unfold in my life. Synchronistically, I happened to be watching a Frank Capra movie on television, “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Being alone I allowed myself the luxury of being brought to tears for the first time ever watching a movie.


Thereafter, I took my-self out for a walk and began singing a Christmas song, ‘Do You Hear What I hear’, bringing my-self to tears once more. Upon arriving to the house, I learned my sibling’s son was born that Christmas day.


I resumed being an observer of Christmas experiences, especially with work and study schedules affecting any family-type gatherings. I was not one to find being in Christmas social gatherings any different from especial gatherings throughout the year. Possible, the culmination of all previous experiences biased by formative years omissions, including my indelible father/motorcycle experience on that pre-pubescent year.


Beware, pity/sympathy are unnecessary as I am one accustomed to a wide range of Christmas celebrations. In fact, being alone is less uncomfortable as I find all celebrations temporal. What most often follows are struggles at regaining lost equilibrium, and I accept being very unfamiliar with the ‘celebrated’ Christmas social gathering sensibilities.


I am quite enamoured each year as society ramps up to celebrate the Holidays of Its many Faiths, sharing in their meaningfulness according to their predilections. Hence, whatever ‘your’ Faith, I bid you enjoy in your celebrations knowing I do as well, according to my comprehensions.

As one noteworthy historic figure penned through one of his notable characters, “God Bless us Everyone.”





O M I S S I O N -&- I N C L U S I O N


Earlier in December 2017, I happened upon a movie that I was not inclined to view in my small apartment, but I was able to experience. The movie, “Hidden Figures”, ‘inspired by a true story’. Living alone in a small apartment, it presented details that were oppressive to my sensibilities. Its details led me to reconsider goings on in society at large, whereby much has been institutionally omitted by the victors. In the grand scheme of things, all news reports from varying outlets claiming ‘unbiased reporting’ instead of ‘partisan editorialization’ were evidence to the contrary.


In History there have been many instances of omission instead of inclusion of information in favour of special interest outcomes, which continues while still claiming to be for the good-of-all. History has also shown those claims fail to actualize giving rise to opposing viewpoints leading to revolt. Do these decisions have visionary interests or are they simply stick in the mud positions secured by obfuscations by mass media?


Incidents in this 2017 film called to mind a film decades earlier called, ‘The Right Stuff’. Its incidents simultaneously occurring in the film, ‘Hidden Figures’, which is a true story whose details were omitted in ‘The Right Stuff’. What would be the contributions to Humankind’s goings on had their information been combined instead of omitted? How different would the world have been, all our experiences included?


Our way forward being subverted by competitive confrontations at the expense of collaboration and co-operation?






There are many men out there, women too, causally choosing a solitary life-styling going forward, living mindfully once fully accepting/embracing their condition.


I have lived my life according to unconscious intrinsic values for some time. Always in a flux, modifying my actions in response to the requests of others without taking the time to process the after-effect on my living conditions. My sole concern has always been to fulfill the task at hand as requested.


Losing my wallet recently, it being the icing on the cake of a mindful behaviour, I became painfully aware of my below-the-radar ADHB(D)/OCB(D)/Dyslexia functioning. I was one of the many who slipped through the cracks before current labelling practices and became an effective contributor within society. Able to develop skill-sets that served/benefitted the societal framework without unduly burdening the infrastructure of our evolving system and world view.


What is occurring in today’s world is indicative of a distinctive shift where one’s innate abilities, under scrutiny, faces unnecessary challenges with our concept of Reality hanging in the balance.



9. Road to Enlightenment





My first crush, 13yrs old viewing a performer in a play at my sister’s high school. To me she was a vision, unaware my crush was a combination of her appearance and the role she was playing. With this false insight, I was enamoured with the notion of becoming a similar performer that I might develop a relationship after being introduced to her.


I did join my high school’s theatre troupe only to discover stage-fright and the malady of needing-to-pee before going on-stage. There were a lot going on with me, in my life, unbeknownst to me. The natural was biological about which none was willing to elaborate, another being the imminent emigration to result in the reunion of our mother who had to leave us behind throughout my formative years.


I carried this crush, romantic fantasy with me throughout the years that followed. Not a week went ‘bye’ for the following 5yrs increasing the homesickness feeling in accompaniment. Then, I was able to return to my birth country, most eager to rekindle that spark of what I believed to have been love at first sight.


After landing, I set about finding my lost love. I was to be dealt a blow that was to become familiar as a ‘growing pain’ in years to come. I was able to make contact, and made arrangements to visit her at home. It had not occurred to me that we had but seen each other less than five times entering our teens, and five years had passed with each of us having vastly different experiences.


I made my way to her home. Her mother greeted me and seated me on the veranda with lemonade to cool the heat of the afternoon. She then appeared, not the vision I had carried all these years. Her hair in curlers, slightly acned and underdressed as she was preparing to go out on a date. I put on the best accepting face I could muster, as we sat and exchanged pleasantries that revealed she barely recalled meeting me. I was her friend’s brother, a position I was to have for many decades to follow. Time passed quickly, yet slowly simultaneously, whereupon I bid my farewell never to see her again.


I often thought of her, as the years drew bye. Especially, walking through the few neighbourhoods I recalled noticing how much narrower the roads seemed than in my childhood. It was on one of those meanderings I became aware of the adage, “I could not go home again.” What was to follow only solidified that notion no matter my wishful thinking.


I have visited my birth country maybe seven times in the fifty-five years since I’ve emigrated, the last being the funeral of the man designated my father. A man of whom I have a regard that cannot be defined, as I have no idea/concept of what ‘father’ means. But, we did have cordial relations, unlike the ones he had with my sibling and her relations, as well as my other relatives who knew and talked of their relationship with him.


Through it all, I learned to make my home wherever I am of a mind.




9. Before Emigrating '62




Late one afternoon, while walking down Yonge St. below College St., the Carlton St. side, I happened upon what appeared a transaction involving a gift-card sale. The prospective buyer was in the process of taking a snap-shot of the card’s face ’n chip while the seller was keeping his pitch ongoing. Upon hearing this, a familiar episode of mine from the Christmas season of 2015 vividly came to mind.


I remember walking down the same side of Yonge St. feeling the Christmas Spirit,
just above Dundas E, a fellow in a parked upscale SUV asked for directions to the airport, which was how my escapade began ending with me a sizeable sum lighter but with fashion attire I wasn’t one to ordinarily purchase.


Prior to this was a notable experience in the 80s with one I mistakenly took for a friend, having spent time with others in friendly engagements, such as partying poolside at his home in the burbs. Similarly, as in my Yonge St. stroll, I was in a harmonic glow, which he recognized and took advantage of, weighing in my sense of friendship. He used it quite well in ‘borrowing’ a sizeable sum he delayed in repaying, until surmised it best I to walk away from as another lesson.


Happening upon me on leisurely walkabout often finds me vulnerable. Exposures I am want to guard against, considering these two references are but the tip of the iceberg when it comes to such encounters. Escapades, including panhandling/street-homeless folks, round out seduction scenarios around this fair city of ours. In times of need, survival instincts surface to create prey and victim of family, friends and strangers alike.






At the most inopportune times, I catch myself every now and then contemplating aging out. By this, I mean passing through a pleasing experience, not wanting it to end and wanting more.


Then, I think to myself, this will all be gone never to be sensed in this manner, ever again!


It becomes ever more apparent the importance of savouring this now moment; not the following passive homage to quips/quotes of other people, but the actual immersion into each imminent moment.


I do admit, it might be the temporality of it all that makes for these momentary specialness in moving on…




4a. George Gallegos- Carey Grant 21.10.17

George Gallegos- Carey Grant



Saturday, 19:02hrs, changing from my outdoor attire into my lounging attire for the evening, a thought strolled through my consciousness that went something like this:


“Oh, wouldn’t it be nice to have a companion to share a comfortable dwelling? Many have suggested just such an idea, and I engaged myself with the sensation of imagining that scenario. However, this balancing thought followed; me having to endure the idiosyncrasies that hopefully, to say the least, were compatible.


Then, there was this notion of what many deem the ‘honeymoon’ phase, which I dubbed the ‘immunization’ phase! It then became clear that that was in fact what it was!


During each of those ‘passionate’ embraces, the heat-of-passion whose raised temperature insertions were mere euphemistic immunization injections! The swapping-of-spit with health benefits, in preparation for offspring(s) down the road.”


Oh, what a Life this is!




12c. Once Was

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