Nurse Sean (dot) com

Have you ever listened to Beethoven’s 9th symphony. I mean ACTUALLY listened to it as though it were the only thing that existed on earth. Listened to it as though it were a thunderstorm keeping you awake at night with its beauty. Experienced it as though the movements were the lovers of past present and future. Have you ever stopped listening to it and instead become t he music. Gritted your teeth in anger at the first movements, breathed a sigh of relief at the third and wept at the beauty of the fourth. This piece of music always has and always represent every ounce of my existence. All of its pain, torture, beauty, and joy.

Written by a deaf man….thats why you feel Beethoven’s music….you don’t listen to it. Thats all he could do.

Today began with a memory of a dream I was having. It was about Dan. A man who broke my heart and moved to Toronto a year ago. In the dream he came to town to visit, towing along his boyfriend. Ignoring my existence. The dream meant nothing to me. The wave of memories and pain it brought me meant everything today.

As the radio played, all I seemed to hear were memories of Dan, songs from the past that were my favorite at that time. At work I could hear his voice, and feel his presence near me. I remebered how every day I watched the clock eagerly, knowing that at 3pm, I would go straight to see him. On the way home, I felt the pain of him leaving, of my heart tearing as his absence gnawed away at my existence. I felt the months of waiting for him to come back from Halifax, only to say “Hi, I’m moving to Toronto in two days” the day he arrived. I remembered the tears I hid from him those two days, the ones that burned my cheeks everytime he turned away. I remembered going home at 3am the night he left and breaking everything I could find, smashing them against some object or another. I rembered the addiction to ephidrine, it was the only thing that broke my depression, and allowed me to focus on something other than him. It made me too energetic to lie in bed and think about him. I remembered when he came to Calgary six months ago to visit friends, seeing him once, and then hiding for the month he was here so I wouldn’t have to see him.

The pain twisted inside me. Proving it wasn’t gone, just well hidden.

The day is warm though, and the temperature 20 degrees higher than it was this morning. I have my Beethoven…the only reflection of my pain. I have my cat, and the teddy bears given to me last September while in pain from my appendix opperation. I have my cigarettes.

Ode to joy……

Leo’s Rain

My alarm woke me at 4am. I went back to sleep until 4:30am. Against my bodies every desire, I decided to wake up and face a day of work.

I wasn’t completely sure what would happen upon arriving at work. I was well aware that Ryan (A Jehovah’s witness that sends my gaydar off the scale-he for some reason doesn’t know he’s gay though) decided to stop showing up for work last week. I was ready to face a day of working alone.

Sandy saved the day! She decided to skip school, just so I wouldn’t have to struggle all day working alone. She rocks!

After the crowds had dispersed and Sandy had left, I put on my favorite “starbucks official manditory cd” of my choice. During lunch time it plays some amazing classical music. Beethoven’s “Sanata pathetique” came on and as usual entranced my imagination. I looked around. I saw depressed buisness men eating alone in the lounge. Employees fighting with bosses, people working harder than possible. I saw the world struggle and suffer. I turned up the song and listened as the sweet desperate note rose and fall, urging the listener onward. A sense of need being created with beautiful music. As the music drowned out the sounds of a busy hotel lobby, the world made sense. For those few moments that Beethoven gave me, I figured it all out. In a flash, and then it was gone. Gone as the echos on the walls when the conductor stops the orchestra. Everything was back to normal. My moment was gone.

For the millions of musicians, and authors and artists that have given me moments like these. How can I ever thank you.

beautiful.

I had fun this weekend and I am definatley relaxed after the week from hell at work. However, it was still a relatively uneventful weekend.

We had record sales on Friday, only by beating Thursdays sales. Barely able to walk, or talk, or keep my eyes open, I jumped in my truck to go home. It was downtown in rush hour and a transit strike is in full throttle, so it took me an hour and a half to drive the usual half hour route. Once home, I ate and went to bed.

My alarm rang at 11pm, time to go to the bar. The bar was fairly boring and uneventful. I spent the entire night chatting with Allison, one of my better friends from my SAPS days. We caught up on old times and drank ourselves silly.

Rudy was there the whole time. Drunker than I’ve ever seen him before. He was wild and crazy, and out of control. It was quite hilarious. At the end of the night I gave him a hug goodbye. The hug was too long. Not in a negative way though, but too long in the sense that friends don’t hug that way. We held each other for a few long moments that I’ll never, for some reason, forget. I felt what was between us. That small spark that says, “we may never be lovers or even good friends, but there will always be something between us.” and then I left.

Saturday was my usual lazy Saturday. I woke up, played on the internet and watched tv. At 10pm I went to the gay coffee shop and had a few gallons of coffee. Suprisingly nobody was there, so I ended up just reading the newspaper until closing time and then went to the bar.

Saturday at the bar was even more uneventful. I spent most of the night sitting alone and just saying hello, and having idle chit chat with whomever stopped by to see me. I went home even before last call.

My weekend is almost over again. At least I know they will come again, and perhaps next time it will be more eventful. Uneventful ones like this one are just as welcome though!

So, last Sunday I woke up at 5pm. Its amazing how througout the week my alarm clock screams me out of bed at 4am, but in just two days of weekend I’m waking up at 5pm. Its mostly because I’m so exhausted by the end of the week that I sleep for about 15 hours Friday night.

After a long procrastinating cigarette I began with cleaning my sister’s appartment in an attempt to leave it even better than I found it. I said goodby to the cats and the television and the bed that allows me to sleep. I left withing a couple hours of waking up, anxious to have my computer and my cat back.

Monday it was back to work. It was a holiday so not much was happening at work. I ended up leaving at 8:30, and immediately went home and went to bed. I woke up five hours later, and then went back to bed around 9pm at night. I don’t sleep as well in this house. Its like ten hours of sleep only feels like five. I have to sleep twice as often.

The days begin to blend into another and before I know it its already Wednesday. Everyone at work was in a horrible mood, and we decided that something had to be done to reverse these feelings. I had won a gift certificate for the Delta Bow Valley Conservatory restaurant for a hundred dollars. This is one of THE nicest restaurants in town and we felt that a night of pampering would be a fabulous way to make us feel better.

To make the day even better we decided to shop! We were going to a nice restaurant and just HAD to buy ourselves new outfits to go in. So, in all our exhaustion and negitive moods we hit the downtown high end shops. Although I only came out of there with a sweater and Dayle and Amanda (eyeshadow girl) didn’t buy a single thing. We were feeling wonderful as only shopping can make a person feel. It was time to go for dinner.

I’m from a fairly upper middle class family, therefore I’ve had many chances to dine in five star restaurants and stay in immensly expensive hotels. I’ve ridden in stretched limosines and chatted with prime ministers who have known my mother by name. I’ve sat three seats down from Ralph Klein at $1000 a plate dinner functions. I’ve lived, if only for short moments, as the rich live. Dayle and Amanda however have never even come close. Amanda is from a very small town lacking any elegance, and Dayle is from a farm family. They had never seen anything like this. It was almost fun to see their puzzled looks when the Host took our coats for us, or when he place the napkins on our laps for us. Their eyes lit up by the feeling I know well. When you’re here, you become one of “them” you are the one of those people that everyone wants to be. You get to have the good meal, the people that worship you for your money. You are one of the “important” people of society. At least for the duration of the meal. That feeling where you simply know why people get carried away with money. To be treated like this is a drug. To be looked up to makes you feel high. The meal is so wonderful it might as well be heroin. The girls, and I must admit myself, were entranced. We spent hours there, knowing that as soon as we leave, the high will be over. That when the Concierge closes the door to the cab for us, we will instantly become normal people again. People, who in reality are making less money than the poverty line. Its a game not of pretending, but of becoming. For four hours we became rich. To give this high to two people that have never had it before was an amazing feeling. We were all in good moods.

Amanda especially leaned towards a euphoric feeling that night. She moved from her small mountain town origins to Calgary a year and a half ago, and hasn’t had a chance to go back home until today when she was told that her vacation time was approved for next week. I dream of having a home to go back to. I’ve lived in Calgary since the day I was born, and I’ve always been home. In the last couple years I’ve discovered a personal philosophy in which home is a place you go back to….not live in. Calgary is definately my home. It always will be. However, I want it to be that special place that I wait with every fiber of my being just to get to go back to. I sick of home, I need somwhere else!

My parents arrived home on Friday and I must admit I was sad to see them home. For two weeks I had the houses that I lived in all to myself, and now I have to share again. It was interesting though, my mother asked me, “If you could go somewhere on vacation, where would you go?”

I replied, “India….of course”

“…uhm…more realistic” she rolled her eyes at me.

“I want to see the sunsets in Vancouver again, or go to Halifax, for a million reasons.” I waxed poetic…

“Well your sister and I were discussing that you always house sit for us, but never get to go anywhere, perhaps if you want to go somewhere, your plane ticket will be covered.”

The possibilities have now become more interesting….where to go?

would I want to come back?

I was never popular throughout school. I was always the guy that was simply “just there”. Everyone knew me, and knew of my existence, but nobody generally paid attention to it. The first group of people I associated myself with was in grade nine. They were a group of outsiders whom in the year 1992 listened to anything except for what was popular. The hit bands of the time were New Kids on the Block, Snow, Vanilla Ice, Boyz to men, and other such cheesy pop, teen idol type bands. These guys and girls listened to heavy metal. Megadeath, Iron Maiden, and anyone that everyone else hated. It was through these people that I was introduced to Nirvana, and became a “grunge” long before it was popular. I was never truly part of the group though. I was never their friend. I was never accepted. I was “just there”

High school started, and I become the “norm” with my grunge look, and the music I listened to was all the rage. The bangers I spent my time with went to a different school and I was left alone without a group of people to be with. The first place I looked was church. The youth group at one particular church was the most incredible experience. The youth group leader could suck in the most hard core atheist. Though, not in a negative way, but because he was such a caring, beautiful person, and the light that shone from him appeared as God shining through him. I spent everyday at the church playing pool, hanging out with friends, and through bible studies and church services I became the most devout bible thumper anyone could possibly be. I felt welcome in a world that accepted everyone, and everyone was loved as a brother. It was a progressive church with hard rock instead of hymns, and youth group movies that discussed sex in an open minded fashion, rather than the hand of God simply telling you “NO”. There was one youth group bible study that started as usual. We all hung out, played some pool, discussed the latest gossip, and just enjoyed each other’s company. Finally, Phil, the leader, sat us down for a bible study session. The topic was homosexuality. I was in shock. The entire bible study focused on bible passages that proved that being gay was wrong and it was not allowed in God’s eyes. I never went back to youth group, or that church. I rarely spoke to my friends. In a place where I felt part of a group, I had suddenly become an outsider. I was 16 and still in the closet, but I still knew I was gay. In the eyes of the Christian God, who preached acceptance of all and love of everyone, I was hated. I rejected Christianity and full out refused to follow that path again. I loved my friends, but I was too intelligent to not be myself. I was alone, searching for friendship, a group of companions.

Now, I was in the concert band during high school, and being a small group we became fairly close to one another. In fact, after I left the church, these were the only people I ever associated with. Even then, however, they all knew that something was “different” about me. I wasn’t the same as anyone. I didn’t seem to have any beliefs, or cares, or morals in common. The only thing that attached me to this group was our absolute love of music. Our common knowledge that the beauty of music was not in the sounds, but the emotions it brought us. Anyone I tell that I spent all my time as a “band geek” laughs at me and tells me that only losers ever take band. They have no idea, or understanding of the feelings involved in playing a piece of music as part of a concert band. No matter what you look like, what you are, who you have sex with, what your marks are, how much money you make, how different you are, when the conductor waves his magick wand and the first note plays, every difference disappears. The beauty that is reached by each and every person working as a whole, and you just being a small, but vital part, is more entrancing than even the most powerful ritual. It was the true definition of ecstasy: divine madness. It was primal, and at times brought tears to my eyes. Anyone who can be brought to tears by listening to classical music should become a part of this process. In true personal style, I graduated, went to university, and egotistical because I was the only person in band smart enough to enter post secondary school, I left my friends behind, all but ignoring their existence. Interestingly enough though, I have now watched several of those friends from band that I held myself high above graduate from university and start successful careers while I failed out. Even the hard core drug addict of the band has a good job and just bought a condo. I live with my parents.

One of the best groups I was ever a part of was in my first couple years of university. We were the smart ones, the intellectuals, we were incredibly introspective. To me it seemed as though we could run the world. All the intellectual thought I learned at university, was not learned through classes or writing papers. It came from the conversations with these individuals. My mind was fully open to new learning and deep, powerful thoughts. I was still the outsider though. I was a first year student, and these were all fourth year students. They were just another group that didn’t “want” to hang out with me, but instead “let” me hang out with them. My greatest influence of that group, and the only person I still converse with is Jason. He was gay, and the smartest human being that ever graced my presence. He was the first to tell me that I was too smart to be earning the marks I do. He claimed that I was an out and out genius and should follow my dreams of taking on a PhD. For him I tried. He was the one true role model I ever had in life, and I miss him now that he lives in Montreal while doing his PhD. This group was disbanded though. Most of the group graduated, and moved on in life. I was left alone, without a group.

I have traced the blooming of my personality to one day while I was bussing tables at Boston Pizza. I had been eighteen for a few months and I finally pounded on my manager’s door, and demanded I be made a waiter, or I’ll quit. He said simply “you’re too shy, you don’t talk to coworkers much, let alone customers. You work hard, and do a good job, but in order to be a waiter, you need to be extremely outgoing. I’ll give you a month to change.” This is back when I was ambitious, and had the energy to take on new challenges, I wasn’t jaded as of yet. I thought to myself, “if I have to change my entire personality, I will”. So, I did. I became wild and outgoing, crazy and attention starved. I was overly happy, and bubbly. I got the job. Although, I truly don’t think I changed my personality. Instead, I believe I awakened my true repressed personality that was hidden all my life, because I was different…gay. I was being myself finally, and I was amazed at how quickly I started to make friends. Socially I was becoming welcome. I loved, and still do, walking down the street and being stopped by someone who cries out, “HEY! You’re the guy from Boston Pizza that serves us all the time.” I was practically famous. Even today, I’ll be out and about and hear “hey, it’s the guy from the university coffee shop” or “look, it’s the waiter from Denny’s” I’m recognized a lot and everywhere. People finally liked me. I wasn’t the quiet, shy guy that everyone ignored. My latest manager said something quiet interesting, and opposite from that first manager. He said “You have a skill. You can make people WANT to see you. You know how to get people to come for coffee just to see you, not for the coffee. It’s a skill that is rare, and I wish I could teach people, but I can’t.”

It was at this time that I was introduced to one of the most accepting groups I’ve ever been with. I wasn’t just the guy who people “let” hang out. I was one of the group, and people in the group enjoyed my company. This group was the Southern Alberta Pagan Society. For years I had been studying witchcraft, and paganism, and through the internet I was led to this group. I remember how scared I was during my first meeting. My heart was racing so hard with excitement and fear that I almost threw up several times. The first person to greet me was Tamatha, then Jill, Feith, Dot, and Mark. I was at peace. The energy in that room amazed me. The feeling of “being home” was a trance that only making music could compete with. I had found my place in life. For months SAPS was my home and family, the people I spent all my thoughts and time on. I loved everyone, and hopefully they all loved me. Unfortunately after about a year, as is usual with any group, people began going their own way. Tamatha moved to Texas, and Feith to Halifax. Jill left the group mysteriously and Colleen left for a life in Edmonton. Dot and Mark Split up. The energy was gone from the group, the passion that could be felt at our meetings as if every Thursday was a ritual was gone. Our time was meaningless. We desperately tried to hang onto SAPS, and still are today, but it will never be the same. Probably the worst occurrence was that a few in the group became close and the rest of us became outsiders. I was once again just someone who people “let” hang out with them. It was uncomfortable to go to the meetings, so I just stopped. I’m still a part of SAPS, but only from a huge distance. I’ve lost respect for many of the people of SAPS and rarely let myself be associated with them. The past is still my dream for the future.

I was on a new path though, it wasn’t just the rest of SAPS. Perhaps the magick created in SAPS was for all of us to find our newest place in life. I came out of the closet and began associated with the gay community in Calgary. I was that bubbly person that learned his social skills from serving tables. I was also the person everyone laughed at cause I was so lonely and constantly depressed. I had found and lost love, and could no longer live without it. I was making friends faster than I ever thought possible, and became a well known individual in the Calgary gay community. I never really have found a group though. I keep wondering from group to group trying to find the one group that will accept me as part of the group rather than someone that just happens to be there. I bring entertainment to a lot of people, but it seems that that’s all I am anymore. I’m not a person with feelings, or needs, or love to give. I’m just entertainment. I’m popular though, Very popular. I’ve had days where I’ve had 10 people call me asking me to do something with them. I’ve had days where there are so many people I know and want to chat with at the bar, that I just have to leave because I didn’t know who to talk to. I had a day last week, where in a supposed group of friends, we were planning a trip to Red Deer for a big gay dance. Everyone was staying together at Dan’s house. Jason, my best friend turned to me and said, “by the way, you can still get a cheap room rate at the holiday Inn.” I’m on the outside of that group too. I’m the guy that just happens to be there, but isn’t welcome to exist withing that circle of people. I’m depressed.

Its been said that the devil lives in Hollywood. People move to Hollywood and would do anything to become famous. Perhaps even sell their soul to the devil. They don’t care about the money. They want fame. They want to be recognized as a person who is worth something. Them want people to look up to them for a change, instead of the opposite. People want to be loved by people. Its as strong of emotion as wanting to be loved by a spouse. So desperate for this feeling, that eternal torture sounds like a fair trade. For most of my life, I wasn’t popular. I was just the guy who happened to be there. I’m never accepted as a human being or someone worth spending time with. I’m good enough to say “hi” to and be entertained by, However while those same people are out watching movies or having dinner, or spending time with their friends, I sit alone at home wishing someone would call me and invite me to a movie. I have no friends, I’m lonely. I go to the bar and spend time with hundreds of people I know well, but I have no real friends. I am popular, and so lonely it hurts. I think the reason I so desperately desire that one true love is that I’ve given up on having a group of friends and receiving any love from them. I’m sick of being the outsider, the one nobody truly cares about. I’m sick of being left out, and rejected, and ditched. I’ve finally experienced popularity in life, and let me tell you, Its truly lonely. I would never sell my soul to the devil for this.

The truth…I push anyone that cares for me away. I won’t let them get close. They give up on me. They stop caring. I reject myself.

Leo’s Rain

Not a lot has occured in my life in the past couple of days. I suppose it could just be the reality of being the inbetween guy. To drained of energy to go out. To active, and crazy to stay in. Of course, the exhaustion always wins over any desire to leave my residence.

I’ve spent three nights in my sister’s appartment. As usual, I’ve found myself being the object of a lot more flirtations. I even chatted for hours with one man last night. Not sure if he’s my type, but of course I will pursue. He certainly seemed interested in me.

Not much is new with work this week. Except the 100% increase in buisness due to a massive convention occuring at the hotel. These busy days will fortunately make the bottom line for this month easier to take. I remembered the days when I would make fun of people that worried about bottom lines all the live long day.

One of my sister’s cats has finaly decided to be my friends, but I still can’t convince the other cat to come out from under the bed. Oh well, thats just how cats are I suppose.

As you can see, my life has been filled with purely mundane activities. I’m too busy to think about much of anything but work. I’m beginning to crave the melodrama that weekends bring me.

I’ve been entranced by the book “Aradia, or The Gospel of the Witches” Its extremely interesting reading the original words that inspired the entire neo-pagan movement. The most interested note on this book, is that it instructs one to threaten the gods if your wishes are not followed. When, and why did that change? I’ll probably understand once I’ve read the commentaries. I have a strong background in reading religious texts and I found it interesting to see exactly what can be extrapolated into what surrounds the pagan community in the present.

I’ve also been doing a small research into the theories, and pantheons of gods. I truly haven’t found anything exciting to report. I’ve never found pantheons and lists of attributes of the gods could keep my attention. To truly see the light of a God, I need to hear the entire life long tale of the deity. This is why Hinduism fascinated me. There is never a shortage of incredible stories to keep you entertained. Why is it so difficult to find an entire story of a deity?

I had an interesting meditation moment the other night. I always meditate while trying to go to sleep. I’ve tried it eslewhere and not been as successful. So, I simply lie in my bed, and I either fall into a meditation, or I fall asleep. In this particular meditation, I believe I was deeper meditation than ever previously. Nothing truly exciting occured, apart from a complete feeling of separation from my body and a complete awakening of my mind(no, not astral projection…just a lack of my body being there). My mind’s light was completely alone)and a visual of what seemed like a gravel road moving under me extremely fast as though I was flying.

So, I shall continue on in my mundane induced madness, praying that the weekend will be with me soon.

Leo’s Rain

I seek a man who is masculine, not week. Protective and strong, charasmatic and beautiful. He does not ooze femininity, or wreak of weekness. He fulfills the archetype of manly energy. I seek a man who is like a father to me.

My father was always the man who was a travelling salesman. he was the man who spent almost all his time in front of the computer, or with his nose in his book. He was the man who could not come within twenty feet of me without one of us starting a fight. He was, and still is happily married to my mother, but he was never my father, or my daddy.

My mother embodies the characteristics of the strongest goddess. She spent her childhood in excruciating pain, confined to a hospital. As a result she is handicapped and can’t walk without crutches. Her father was an alcoholic genius of a musician, and her mother was as stubborn as her. My mother in life became a lifeforce to reckon with. She is curageous and powerful, brilliant and strong. She is a light in the dark, and a social leader. She works so hard that her body can’t keep up to her drive. However, no hurdle ever has or will stop her from acheiving her dreams, or potential. She is commanding and convincing. She wears the pants in the family. She’s purly female. She’s my mommy.

With such a weak masculine influence and such a strong female influence, I could be a poster child for those who believe that being gay is soley a factor of environmental influences while growning up. Even my sister was powerful, quite obviously takes the path of my mother in her views towards life, personality and strength. If my mother and sister were witches, I would never mess with their power. I rarely do now. Perhaps, because I only ever had a strong feminine influence, I seek only a father type figure and influence in my relationships. It is the part of myself that is missing.

I once told a friend my theories on why I seeked out older, masculine men for my relationships, and asked him why he only seeked out young, teenage, feminine boys. He answered “I always dreamed of having a younger brother. Perhaps I still do. So, perhaps all I really want is an older brother type in my relationships. I always dreamed of having an older brother. Especially when being tormenting all through school for being different, in ways none of us understood at the time. I dreamed he would tell the other kids to leave me alone. They would scream, running away afraid of my superhero older brother. The person I looked up to and wanted to be like. Its obvious that I crave a strong masculine influence in my life.

I dream of coming home from a horrible day at work and sit on the couch, alone and on the verge of tears. He walks into the room, the man I’m in love with. He’s tall and strong, his energy is overwhelmingly powerful. His eyes so deep and dark they could scare away the devil. He sits down beside me and wraps his protective arm around me. His grip tight on my soul. His colonge wrapping me in comfort. His sweater warming my heart and is aura mixing with mine to become one. He wipes away a tear, and gives me a gentle kiss. He proclaims “Its alright, I’m here, everything will be ok.” and just lets me fall asleep in his arms. I feel complete and at home. I’m fearful that he’ll leave me for the computer. I’m terrified that he won’t always be there to protect me.

Perhaps this is why none of my relationships worked. One only wanted cold, meaningles sex, even though he was as masculing and powerful as any man imaginable. Another was masculine on the outside, but all women on the inside. Rudy was MY little brother. Or perhaps I was his father figure. I could never be happy with these styles.

I don’t believe that being gay is a result from your upbringing. I think its more like cancer. Cancer isn’t hereditary, but the potential for cancer is. If your mother has breast cancer, there is a great chance that you will be diagnosed with cancer eventually, if some condition turns on the cancer gene. So, like cancer, the potential to be gay is passed on, and if a situation causes this gene to be turned on, you will become gay. I think a stong feminine influence in your upbringing is only one potential way to turn this gene on.

All in all….I just want to be loved. So badly it brings me to tears to see happy people. I have so much love to give, that it brings me to tears when someone won’t take it.

I’m lonely…I seek a man.

Leo’Rain

Late last night I finished doing laundry and packing my bags in preparation for my temporary move into my sister’s appartment. I finished around midnight, not leaving much time for me to sleep. I woke up tired. Something was different about work today. It could be because it was very slow, but it was very calm and peaceful emotionaly. I felt as though it was my home and and everything I needed in life was here. Emotionaly that is. A very different attitude towards work than when I left there on Friday. For the first time in awhile, I didn’t hate the idea that I was working. It cofused me!

I managed to get myself off early today, which was awesome, because I could barely contain my excitement at arriving as my sister’s appartment. Has anyone else in the world felt this excited just about living somewhere for a week. Upon reaching my sister’s appartment and lugging my suitcase up the stairs, I entered. I got the usual “Who the hell are you” looks from the cats…”silly cats! Its ME!” I won’t see them for a few days. I took a look around, angered at the changes that were made in the last six months as if this were my appartment. Thankfully the nick-nack treasures collected from around the world were still there…although some in different spots. My favorite bed, the one that gives me better nights sleeps than I ever thought possible, was there waiting for me in the spare bedroom. The memorable peacefulness and joy that this space brings me, descended upon my like silk pajamas. I could feel the gaze of the Ganesh and Shiva statues watching my moves. Objects my sister most likely bought for the sole purpose that they looked neat. I on the other hand have studied the mythology of these Gods, knowing that Ganesh, the God of luck in wealth next to Shiva, the God of distruction is just plain silly. I felt so smart, then I realized that it was my sister that actually got to experience the temples and monuments of these Gods, while I house-sat for her. Still, the energy of this strangely mundane space brings me unexplainable calmness that I’ve not encountered anywhere else.

After to the mandatory internet set ups and ICQ downloading, I thought to myself “I’m in granola-ville…pagan central…hippy commune of Calgary. I’m in Kensington! I MUST walk to the pagan bookstore just down the street.”

My shoes are slipped on and my jacket put into place, I’m ready to go! More strange “So, you never did tell me who you are”, and “where’s my mommy” looks from the cats.

I rushed through the stairwell of the building, knowing that the familiar smell will, as it always does, bring memories of the men I’ve been deeply in love with while staying here. I Crashed into the -9C air with not a care for how cold I was about to get. I light a cigarette and prepare for introspection.

I adore sauntering past these houses. This area of town is said to have been the official “red-light” district of Calgary many many years ago. Now the area is mostly filled with houses approximately fifty to sixty years old. I imagine as I walk through the alleys, the houses non exsistant and only the oil lamps and sleezy bars alight in the distance. I feel a prostitute slink by me praying I don’t approach, because she’s taking a well deserve break from the rush of the street life. I hear drunken farmes screaming in joy in the distance, embracing the joys of life. Then the houses pop up. Brand new in their time, filled with war brides and poverty. A modest house when new, now in its trendy death stages is worth a fortune. I see the families of past moving to the subburbs and the hippies and free thinkers of the sixties taking over. I see the beauty of diversity singing a song on the wind. Everyone here is who the wish to be.

Enough of the houses. I hit the streets with the trendy shops. The first person I see is a drunken beggar, begging for soup. Even he is beautiful admist these gorgeous building and peaceful energy. I pass a Starbucks. My favorite one. Its the first Starbucks in Calgary and going there seems almost a pilgrimage for me. Its what Starbucks is supposed to be. Celebrating alternative culture and diversity. Living on the philosophy of varience. Not like my Starbucks, where we all must conform to the snotty conformist rituals of hotel buisness.

Its not time to stop at Starbucks though. Thats for the way back. I hasten my pace, I’m starting to get cold. I’m there, I enter the store, the smell of insence hitting me like a brick wall as it always does. The heat stifling. Why is is always so darn hot in this place? I do my usual circle of tartot cards first, community events second, and books last, many many many books. Some that you would never find anywhere else. I begin to browse. I can always feel the eyes of the old women who are hanging around. I feel they are looking at me and judging me for not being as much of a witch as they are. Or am I just paranoid. Still, I’m always afraid to pick of certain books that I know will give me a nauseous chuckle for fear that one of the crones who seem to hover and read over my shoulder will actually think I would buy this and follow it! I think I’m just paranoid. I pick three books. One is the Charles Leland book about Aradia. Anyone familiar to witchcraft will know that this is the book that cause the genesis of the neo-pagan movement. I also picked up “making magick” by Edain McCoy, one of my favorite books of all time that I lent out and finaly decided to give up on ever getting back. Third, was what looked to be an interesting book revealing the histories and myths surrounding gods as apposed to goddesses. Too often I hear things such as “we are here to celebrate in unity, the wonderful, fabulous, beautiful, creative, inspirational, wise, perfect goddess Brighit……and the god”. I want some refreshing deapth into the other side of this gender polarized religion. I resisted the urge to purchase every incense known to man, and fourty two differnt necklaces and a craft kit to make buddhist meditation beads. That was tough, but I still managed to spend $75.00.

Time to hit Starbucks. I love the Kensingto Starbucks, its so relaxed and cozy. I bought myself an Iced grande caramel macchiato (THE best drink you can buy at Starbucks!) Which reminds me. I must convince lupinevoice to start drinking Starbucks coffee rather that Nabob traditions. I cry for her! I quickly peak at a couple books. It was very interesting to read the charge of the goddess in its origional italian, and a direct translation, rather than the overly reworked, overly poetic modern versions.

Starbucks was too hot, and I missed the calmness of the appartment. So, off I went. I had a nice soothing bath and and put on my house robe in preparation of writing. I feel purly at peace. I MUST make this my home some day. There’s something about it. It feels like home, as many places do to me.

Leo’s Rain

I only slept for about 10 hours last night. I’ll regret that tomorrow when I start to get exhausted again from waking up at 4am every day. I woke up starving and surprisingly lacking in a lack of coffee headache. I watched tv, went to Subway for dinner, watched tv, and then came to write in my journal. A very typical Sunday for me.

Last night was a much better night than Friday. I was well rested, and didn’t have to be with people I despised. I woke up at 3pm, wrote in my journal, and watched “Road Rules” as I always religiously do on Saturdays. My friend Jason called, and I was off for coffee and dinner with him.

Jason’s a true friend. Hardened by years of lacking boyfriends and true love, he’s become bitter. In that fabulously hilarious way that only gay men can pull off. He’s polite, mature and intelligent. It was wonderful to sit down and have coffee with him and discuss are bitterly horrible love lives together. Alex and Erick were there as well. They are also friends, but not as close. Alex was late, so we didn’t get to have a formal dinner, just a stop at Wendy’s. Alex was off to “small change, big changes” galla dinner. They give you a small piggy bank to put your spare change in. After a few months, everyone decorates their pig, and brings it to the galla. All change going to Aids charities. Erick left right after dinner to go home and work on school work.

Jason and I went back to his place, and I hung out with his roomate while he got ready. His roomate is hilarious. Think of the butchiest lesbian you’ve ever met…she’s butchier! Straight as an arrow though. All her friends are lesbians though, and all she does is play and watch sports and action movies. I came up with a term for her. Thesbian….cause she acts like a lesbian. So, while Jason, the traditional fag got ready for two hours, we watched football and checked out football players together. I made her watch “Iron chef” of course. You can’t call yourself gay if you miss it!

We were off. We made our way to an ARGRA dance. Its the rodeo dances where everyone dresses and acts as a cowboy….or are trying to find something other than the one gay bar in Calgary. Its actually quite amazing to go to one of these dances. You look around and you can’t help but think to yourself “WOW…these are REAL people. Not the fake people with emotional masks that go to the bar with blue hair, and glitter on their face…glowsticks in tow. These are REAL men, with REAL jobs, REAL emotions, REAL bodies, REAL personalities.” You look to your left and you see a guy who you could tell just got off his tractor and snuck away from his farm family to finally be comfortable. On your right is an old man in cowboy clothes, with pain in his eyes, because he’s so lonely. Quiet and introverted. Too shy to find anyone. Lost without that special leggo piece that would complete the form of his soul. Straight ahead, is the hottest man you’ve ever seen….could it be…IT IS…its the marlborough man….only hotter. His clothes are expensive, and clean, and…..oh….he just opened his mouth and talked…thats a lesbian…oh well.

Behind me…a surprise appearance from Jeremy, my December puppy-love crush that won’t go away, forcing me to get weepier over him each time our auras mingle. Anyone who knows me…if you met him, you’d know he’s perfect for me. I’m getting better at not caring of such matters. If he doesn’t want me, thats fine, I’m more intersted in finding someone that is…not someone that I can force into it. Thats what Rudy’s trying to do right now. I’m letting him learn this lesson the same way I did. The hard way. Sometimes I wonder if in this new non-chalance to finding men, I’ve become lacking in any ability to try for a man. Perhaps Jeremy wants me as much, but I’m not even bothering giving signals. I just need a man that wants me, and tells me such, and gives me no choice but to give in to his charms, looks, and personality. I’m a dreamer….refusing to wake up. Scratch that. I was a dreamer, and now I’m going through that groggy period where you don’t want to wake up, but life is forcing you to stop hitting the snooze button.

Jason, Jeremy, Duane, and Duane’s boyfriend Chris, and I headed over to boyztown. Thats Calgary’s one true gay bar. Its like home to us, and we were ready to cozy up on our comfy couch…..the dance floor. One that didn’t involve knowing how to two-step that is. The Boyztown part of the evening is a wee bit hazy. That, of course, is when I started my Saturday ritual of drinking myself silly! All I know is that I danced a lot with Jeremy, and my crush on him got bigger. I had another beer and got over it. Then ignored Rudy, said goodnight to Jeremy, and once he left, staying seemed pointless, so I left.

and that was another night….

Sunday is almost over, and its just about time to transform from outgoing, party queen Leo, into supervisor of the crappiest starbucks on the planet!

The next week should be emotionaly interesting. I’m house sitting for my sister for a week. Her apartment is a lucky place for me in the category of love. Everytime I’ve stayed at her place I always seem to get the men I want. Hopefully this won’t change. The first time I stayed there, a man I was hopelessly in love with for some reason wanted to have sex with me again…all the time….out of the blue. Of course, I thought that this would make him fall in love with me, so I did it. I was so young and naiive when I was 20. That same housesitting period I fell a million more times in love with Dan, forgetting the sex hungry guy I mentioned a moment ago. The second time I stayed there, I fell in love with another man, and had two men fall for me. Trust me….between these moments….there was nothing….no intrest from any other man. Or maybe I just try harder when I’m there. Who knows…we’ll see.

Anyways….I must go transform into the boring dull, yet ifinitely more introspective weekday self that I must be!

Leo’s Rain

I slept for twelve hours last night. I welcome sleep after my usual lack of sleep during the week. I’m suffering from one of my headaches from lack of coffee, but I lack the energy to make any.

Last night was interesting…

I went to the fondu party. Only four people showed up. Me, Dan, Kevin and Dylan. Of course, Wendy was throwing the party, so she was there.

It was a horrible mix of people for me. Dan and I are friends, but not very good friends. The only thing we have in common is the fact that we’re both gay. Kevin is Dan’s boyfriend. Or, at least Dan says so, because they’ve had sex. Dylan is a fucking asshole that I’ve hated since the day I’ve met him. He’s loud, obnoxious, rude, and just not a nice guy. People have told me “he’s just trying to get attention” or “He’s hiding his pain by being an asshole” However, I don’t think there should ever be an excuse for treating people the way he does. Anyways…as you can see, the company wasn’t that exciting. Except for Wendy of course:)

When I got there Wendy was working her ass off trying to get everything finished. Dan, Kevin, Dylan just complained that it wasn’t done yet. Wendy stayed nice. When the fondu was ready to go, everyone complained that it wasn’t enough food for them, and Kevin even asked “Is there a Wendy’s nearby”. Wendy still stayed nice. The only topic that anyone seemed to be able to talk about wsa sex. They talked about how horny they were, how they like to get fucked, I stayed nice.

After dinner…disgusted by the people that I had to spend an evening with, I retired for a smoke and then just spent the rest of my night on Wendy’s couch alone listening to music. I felt so bad for Wendy. Its the first chance she had to entertain in two years. Half the people didn’t show up and the ones that did were just plain cruel to her! And me, to scared to say anything, just ran from the situation. Too afraid to speak up and say “Shut your fucking mouths, and thing of something positive to talk about or leave!”

Around 11pm everyone decided they wanted to go to the bar. I could tell that Wendy was hurt. She wanted us to stay around and drink and chat. I wanted to leave. Not to hurt Wendy, but because I couldn’t stand the company.

So, we all packed into the car. Dylan whining because he just HAD to change into different clothes before we went to bar. If your listening Dylan SHUT UP!

The bar was interesting….I didn’t know very many people there. Except for the people that were supposed to go to Wendy’s party and bring part of the dinner that didn’t show.

Rudy, Wendy’s wife, the guy I fell for was there. Although I’m completely, utterly over him (I never did fall in love with him) it still tugs at my heart to see him walk down the stairs. Especially when Rob is in tow (the guy thats breaking his heart).

I felt like I was in Junior high school. Dan caught Kevin making out with Dylan. Dan told me about it. He was so mad that I was sure someone was about to get a bullet in the head. So, instead of telling him to discuss this with him, I told Dan “You don’t deserve this shit, just leave and go home…no goodbyes” I hoped that I was protecting everyone from a tradgic scene. Dan did leave.

Wendy and I discussed why people are mean to others, why we’ve been mean in the past. We complained about the negative changes in Rudy. She’s truly a deep person, I don’t know why she chooses the company she does. She deserves more than shallow, sex crazed, immature fags!

Everyone left, and I said goodbye to Rudy…who was hanging off of some boy at the time, and left.

I didn’t like junior high the first time. I’m not liking it this time!

Leo’s Rain