This is not about you i swear

he's a killer
yet he has died more times then the beat less hearts that litter his path, watch out sweet thang you might step on one
wearing his trench coat of misery on this miserable day walking through doors lacking all chivalry doors once held open by his smile now barred shut with his steel heart following him cause he's like so hot and his long hair is soo cool, did you hear he's a model? and oh boy don't you want in, he waits for you on the other side of that door
like "sorry sweet thang you aint comin in, this place is now reserved for sin and plus your just too pretty for whats inside" yet you walk in anyway, his smiling eyes held together by true lie's and this place once a garden of budding romance, the flowers of commitment, the seeds of selflessness the sweet williams of monogamy but neglected and rejected deprived of all light and nourishment now a bed of carnivorous plants, whimsical weeds, roses with enlarged poisonous thorns oh boy they look beautiful don't they sweet thang just grab one, no i swear you wont get hurt, this satanical botanical heat cranked up like Hell like sweet thang you should remove your clothes before you over heat, yes take them off but trust me this is your idea not mine, i'm just trying to keep you comfortable, just keep looking at the flowers and paying attention to this infernal heat. like jeez la weez you got me naked you little vixen, were both just in the nude in this infernal garden, this was your idea all along wasn't it, and now you feel so comfortable in this infernal heat smiling eyes held together by those obvious lies my respect for you going down as i go down on you, my disdain for you as foul as your bellow belt breath like shit i guess you don't respect me either like the 2004 elections the republicans wining and all i can see is bush and i can smell his bullshit and your bullshit smell leaving tastes in my mouth i didn't know existed but no worries cause you aint goin anywhere tonight you are not coming your sea creature antics star fishing your way to where exactly? like sweet thang i know you wana make like an octupussss and squirt some ink and oh boy do i wish you played the part of the puffer but you don't blow your mouth shut i wish your horizontal vocabulary consisted of actual words and not the ohh's and ahhh's of cheap soft 70's porn those same ohh's and ahh's you recited as i wowed you and bamboozled you with stories of trips abroad and foreign philosophies on love and emotions so what do you have to say you lame broad? your as substantial as my fading erection, just like that empty bottle of wine your overflowing with things to say even the crickets are getting paid overtime. , you brought these crickets into this garden just like you brought your hopes and dreams of monogamy you left with intriguing ideas of polygamy which you think you thought of yourself but really you just left a garden full of seeds and some of them have been deliberately planted in your head and oh boy was that soil fertile, your clothes not the only things that have been soiled on your next visit to the garden you might just find those doors to be shut a one way out exit in disbelief your grief not palpable because those seeds that were sown make you believe that you've seen every flower in this garden and there's no use going back so let's go frolic in other gardens but really all you saw was the front room and that's all they will ever see the select few who have ventured beyond have found fountains of inner beauty over flowing with kindness in the form of tweeting birds and humming bees you might have met the silly inner child that resides in the trees in a tree house made of hopes and dreams, every flower opening up to you as you pass, the sweet smell of possibilities but you, like the selected few, have kept on walking exiting the back door i didn't know existed the slam of the door and the click of the lock in tandem with the front door that leads to the front room of heat and thorns which grows with every passing pedestrian and every slamming door threatening to entangle the entrance access to fountains, birds and the bees and that little boy becoming increasingly hard and that little boy sulking in his tree house but noooo worrrries cause he's got tons of shit to play with, i can't believe you just caught a glimpse of him, but anyway just focus on the heat of the front room and the beautiful thorny roses and whimsical weeds and take off your clothes as if it was your idea.

poemism

I was in the shower last night, preparing to go for a night out with my buddies when a thought occurred to me. " I hope Patrick doesn't preach his view on the world tonight and force it upon us."
I have a friend named Patrick. He lived in Thailand for a year, in china for 4 months and is currently enrolled in Asian Studies at a very prestigious university.
My friend Patrick believes he has the answer to life and the answer to any situation involving anything. we all have our owe views on the world and it's contents but unlike Patrick most of us like to discuss these views with other people and share our ideas, a back and forth of soft words and kind metaphors.
Patrick on the other hand likes to force his view down your throat till you become "enlightened"

as a friend of mine would say "he has a very heavy presence" :S
a spiritual snob if you will.

so as i was scrubbing off the dirt from the days work i started creating this mental poem. it was actually kinda cool. i rushed out of the shower, dried myself off and ran to my room. i proceeded to write this poem on the first piece of paper i could find. scribbling away in nothing but a loose wet towel.

i tried to recite it to Patrick last night but he could not hear me, you see he was sitting way to high upon the caterpillars throne asking himself circular questions that bounced down from his toad's stool and hit the rest of us right on the head.
rather frustrating
Here is my poem for Patrick:
(i heart you Pat)

You will not forcibly penetrate my mind with your views on the world!
Holding me down in the bedroom of your consciousness raping my beliefs with your own
I am not helpless tear stained Mary Jane, hopeless after school special
i am Me, Will.C and i can defend my thoughts in intellectual battle of wits on the plains of preaching
if you want me to see it your way
exchanging my eyeballs with yours do it with a subtle story and a kind word
BUT ALL YOU DO is preach your dualism like blaring Nazi speakers, and right there the Epiphany for the worlds wrongness

let me tell you what's wrong in this world patty
it's the Ism's, all the Ism's, the ism's that end beautiful words and twist them into hideous modes of doing forcing them upon us
and hear little miss Mary Jane cry as she is forced to swallow, from various Orpheus's the Ism's of other men,
her body and dress stained with the residues of the ism's
and YOU standing there erect with your dualism
yet in that dark corner no longer helpless Mary Jane crying but me Will.C

Dualism, everything has 2 sides
and me Will.C ready to stand up for my Mary Jane

The only thing getting penetrated tonight is your earth shaped balloon which you state is your view on life THE way of life
you better preach fast before you run out of gas
hear the whooooooshh as your ranting balloon goes through one ear and out the other
DEFLATED

pass the suger

it seems this is the new quiet fall rage for musik
everyone is blogging about it
what a reason not to write about it

John Tejada - Sucre

it's a very ..Autumn time Montreal vibe song. mellow with a simply intricate beat, bilingual vocals (it seems to me that she has a touch of English accent when she speaks French and a French accent when she speaks English) from a sultry women.
vocalizing her need for some ..sugarrrrr baby
we all need some sugar
j'te veux
we want you to pass the sugar baby and we're not talking about the powder

Btw new favorite blog: http://asheard.com/
this blog is so ....Sweet baby sugar sweet baby listen to all those caramelized posts. jealousy has never tasted so sweet sugar high dance party

life is a journey, think of it as hiking a mountain. (as i've stated before)
you would think that the goal would be to get to the top.
what about the other trails? are you paying attention to the cross roads? if you take the time to look around and appreciate your surrounding and notice those little sign posts that lead to various other paths and places you might find that your goal in no longer to get to the top but to check out the lake, or check out another peak on this mountain.
some people focus to much on getting to the top, they hike up as fast as their metaphorical legs will carry them, head down arms pumping, blazing past sign posts as if they were nothing more then pieces of wood planted in the ground to imitate trees. their scripture lost in a blur of determination.
where do you think your going so quickly budddy? to the top? what if you get lost? what if the top is the anti climatic epiphany of your life. all the hiking was for not if you didn't appreciate your surroundings. if you take the time to look at those sign post's you might realize that the path you we're on is not the best path available. maybe this other path will be more fun. this same metaphor applies to relationships.

my dad told me this story yesterday about his older brother.
my fathers older brother spent his entire life working. his goal was that when he was going to retire he was going to buy a boat, fish, hunt, buy a nice cottage up north, meet an very nice women and be happy. he worked oh so very hard, everyday of his life for this goal of his. he finally retired. he bought that boat, he fished, he hunted, he bought that cottage up north and he met an amazing women. he was happy. this all lasted for 8 months. He died of cancer a year after he retired.

so before you go running off to a certain goal of yours take the time to re-think what you want to do. enjoy your life and everything that happens to you even if it's bad because when people are on their death bed they don't regret what they have done, they always regret what they did not do. you only live once, for an undetermined amount of time. once again, why say why when you can say why not, yes is a better word then no, get a case of the "fuckit's" cause fuck it's and bad decisions are oh so much fun. also, as George Lopez once said " Life is to short to not have an orgasm everyday"
I have to go to school now and learn stuff, maybe this stuff wont be as interesting as the lessons learned on a mountain in the highlands but who knows right?
much more to come. stay tuned you might learn something.
:P

we all wana meet a french canadian

we are French Canadians! tabarnake! legends have been told about us, we are the spicy zing in your bland white chick casserole, we say things like 'oui' and bonsoir with a coy smirk our voices gruff. we aint no Texan cat, or Manchester block nah brotha we are those french Canadian dudes. we are different, we have our own mold.
" so your fucking a french Canadian guy?" "dude those french Canadians drunk us under the table" "man we ran into these french Canadian's and dude do they know how to party!`
we`re a bit grimy but in a suit and tie kinda way
kinda of like European male models but unlike them we have a character! an open mind , we can feel deeper because of the intricate language of french that has more words for love then English! if that isn`t intriguing then you are as jaded as a gay Torontoian designer
just of the fact that we were born and raised in this fair Province gives us the zing of interest grown in us that is appreciated and slobbered over in more places then it is not.
we are mysterious men and women, a shimmering glint in our eye.
so my french Canadian kin walk into other countries and stats with your head held high and the spicy zing on your lips
we all wana be prince
w all wana meet an french canadian


http://www.myspace.com/felixdahousecat

tabarnake l`gros c`est pas mal fou quoi tu dit, shit, des fois la ... tu c`est esti.
moi pi huggette on trip des bananes, la dernier fois que ju fume la bu de Australie tabarwett, j`suis gèle an esti, le ptit criss il fait du sense. on suis pal mal en shape et unique comme un poutine`....ok Huggette let`s go, tu te fait encule ce soir yeeee ha tabranke les Canadian et le hockey

counting down the days to the UK

Got my Indian homies weight in British pounds, can't wait to stuff my face with haggis and other kilted things and lighten up, hope I'm ready for the abrupt change in time as excited as a library filled with mimes our dollars high so it's definitely worth my dime. I'm skipping school to go off and party with this girl who makes me drool, I've packed all i can save the vestibule, bringing my heart, brains, cash and favorite tool. Rock out with my cock out hear me shout about what us Montrealer's are really about. gona have a blast with no concern about the past save Beethoven and bacon, these intellectual playa angels I've been making. thinking how this world is my oyster my character as my holster. holding all i know and have in the form of a loaded pistol future trips do include Bristol but right now it's all about Glasgow just 1 week to go what do you know got my bakers dozen pure British dough!