Mystic flux

So, this is a crucial part of the narrative, it's officially time to tender resignation to the fact {strong belief? Good feeling? Prayer?} that the story will come true, the number of people in my life who deserve to have their stories told and their lot in life improved just keeps mounting; for my son and Noah Deare and Sparky and Steffie and Chastity and Spooky High and well, you get the picture... Let's see if we can make it EPIC! {or at least long, rambling and mildly amusing} I'd just like to take a few moments of your time to explain that, although it pains me to do so, I must tender my resignation effective immediately. I am, and again it pains me, unable to work out my notice as there are ladies who wish for me to accompany them poolside today. Please have my paperwork and any pay which may have been withheld sent to me at the address you have on file. If you have any questions I would prefer that you contact me via email. The following is a fictitious accou

Yes, I said faith, not faith in yourself, that's only part of it. I'm talking that powerful brand of faith that comes from being a witness to the fact that the feeling in your heart and the things that happen in your life are inextricably linked. We've been conditioned by western civilization to always go bigger; to always strive for greater human achievement, greater adventure and more knowledge. Every generation feels that they're on the brink of the next great leap in human understanding and ours is no different, just ask Sheldon Cooper. Much has been said about what the specific trigger was that changed apes into people but the only thing we know for sure is that it gave "us" a definite advantage, otherwise I wouldn't be here talking @ you now. Ok, I'm not talking at YOU, I'm talking @ me because I'm pretty sure nobody's listening to this blog... but I digress, back to the discussion of how chimps turned into chumps. I think of ev

The Norman Bethune Centre for the Study of Ethics and International Relations When I started my Odyssey, all I had was dubious faith {read that “devout agnostic”} and a concept: in order to get over my depression I'd simply live my life as my nom de plume, Tomorrow Sweetwater, after all, He was always happy. The thought train went a little like this, and forgive me if this goes astray, when I was depressed my work was, well, let's use “not very good “ as a good euphemism. On the other hand, when I was happy, my work was inspired; I could write poetry, design anything, even make semi-pleasant sounds come out of my guitars or sax. I'd tried everything that modern medicine and low budget psychology had offered yet I was still unable to do what needed to be done. Hindsight tells me that anxiety was what led me to become 320lbs and suicidal. I lived in 250 sq ft of squalor, reality TV type filth, I swear, but the an incident with my friend Kat made me realiz