The following conversation matters more today because I have since learned that my long time friend killed himself while hiding out in Chicago, Illinois. For his family, if he has any out there, God bless you in this time and forever more. I simply want to let everyone see, as best I can illustrate, just how important people like him are to this world. I will continue to self publish, and I will keep working to help others do the same when they ask because fuck the machine, fuck it big time.
He told me I was crazy for publishing my own work because there was no money in it. I know he meant well, and I hope he is sitting somewhere now, looking down and smiling on us all…
I have changed his name in light of the tragedy his family has suffered.
I looked him deep in the eyes with kindness and said, “If I rely on others, those in positions of authority on these or other subjects to decide whether I am good enough, I will always long to do it differently and I will never be good enough anyways… if I wished for their acceptance Blake, I would always be left wanting. Take a look around at what’s popular and tell me how much you enjoy the suggestions of Oprah or other personalities in general, who are the authorities on what we are supposed to like.”
He laughed, “I get your point buddy, but most of those people get rich…”
I laughed at this, “I like Tiger Woods for a lot of reasons and dislike him for many of the same, but one thing I noticed about him is that he is not human any longer Blake… he is led around by other people who claim to have his best interests in mind and we are fed the information like sheep, from other sheep who were fed quite specifically designed information packages in order to perpetuate the image of a human being, rather than an actual person… I never want another human being telling me what to like, what to watch, what to read, what to buy, how to dress, where to work, or what I can or can’t do with my life… I am fond of making mistakes and paying the price for them. I am fond of being able to write a book and use language in whatever fashion I choose, often incorrectly and always on purpose, but I am fond of this Blake. It is my right to do it as selfishly as I choose, just as it is yours or anyone else’s and it saddens me as a human being that when I tried to go through the authorities to publish my first two books, I was told that I have talent and that my use of the language is not only brilliant but different in a special way…”
I sipped from my coffee cup and he shrugged his shoulders, waiting for me to continue.
“But Blake, they rejected me each and every time for not being ‘sellable’… my ‘genre’ was all wrong and if I did this or adjusted that, I might be great and they would re-look at my work…” I shook my head, “you know me Blake, imagine how I felt hearing that my greatness was dependant on following the advice of people who had never strung their own words together with any meaning beyond ‘accepted’ or ‘rejected’. Yet I still had to feel the sting of rejection deep within me because a part of me believed that I, in fact needed their acceptance to be any good…”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our coffee and making slight grunts.
“I hear what you’re saying man, but still… there’s no money in it man. There’s no validation really, without that sign of success, which comes in terms of monetary value.”
“I disagree but understand the feeling Blake, I really do. I’ve gone through it over and over again, always ending up at the same place in my mind and heart… I write because I have no other choice. I publish because I have too man, I have to share the stories for whatever reason a person has to do something. For me, I feel it deep in my bones as being important, money be damned and besides, I have to work anyways right?” I flashed a quick smile, “whether I like it or not, or whether I write or not… I have to slave for this cause or that cause when the only true passion I have ever felt is for my fellow human beings and giving to them, even one with just a bit of the written word to chew on for even the shortest of times, if that’s all I have to give. I have been in the ‘helping’ field for so long, there really is no other alternative for me in terms of work and having said that, I also have to admit that I don’t like being a slave even for a positive purpose. I was not born for that, I was not raised to blindly follow an unprincipled world bent on starving itself of the wisdom so many men and women tried to instil and build in it. I am not the most intelligent creature on the planet, but Blake, I understand that every generation needs people willing to manipulate the system enough to somehow and hopefully affect change, even in the slightest manner…”
“There is no change David, there is nothing you or I can do to stop the world from eating itself, to steal your words for a moment, the world wants to devour itself in greed and blood… unfortunately you are as much a part of that as anyone else. I wish it were different, not because I have something to say, but because you do and others like you do. Because I have watched you through the years give yourself tirelessly to be let go, to quit when it gets to be too much, or when you’re pigeon holed by some half wit, who has no idea what it takes to spend a day in your shoes because they aren’t Gucci or Prada and yours happen to be rooted in humanity…”
I laughed until coffee dripped from my nose.
“You see, you know it’s true Dave, you know that through all of those years at the place, you were thrown out like yesterday’s trash because money talks and truth has to walk if it stands in the way of making money. I watched you then, struggle to bring truth to the surface. I commended you like others did, for standing your ground, but I also reminded you of the futility. Yet, you knew you had to do it even though the world has no principles and the place had grown into a system much worse than we could ever have imagined. What did that cost you…” He was red faced, “and it always will cost you the same thing David, always, no matter where you go, no matter what you do. But again, I commend you for moving forward when so many have written you off. And seriously, for you, all I wish is that one day, whenever that might be; you find a place where you really want to be and where you can feel like you’re actually making some kind of difference. I don’t know anyone else, who has continued to fight with such ferocity through being kicked around and punished for it like you. And somehow, you land on your feet…”
I waved my hand at him, “I know many people who have been through much more my friend, like yourself Blake. Think about how much you’ve taught me through the years in this field…” I shook my head, “but thanks man. I have a wonderful family, and wonderful friends who constantly give me the strength to carry on through it all. They remind me as to why I keep fighting every day, in order that I might look at my nieces and nephews and tell them a story one day that has a happy ending other than someone becoming rich and fat on the world.”
Our conversation had to end; he had to return to his government job where he was the smartest person working, but knew deep in his heart that he would never make it any further because he burned his bridges doing nothing more than telling the truth to people who either did not want to hear it, or simply could not believe it.
When I saw him in March of 2010, his eyes had dulled since the time we met months before; he was still slightly full of piss and vinegar back then, but not today and according to him, not any longer.
His last, parting words to me, “I give up David, they won… they beat us all.”
My eyes blurred with tears, as he stared at me and I tried to summon something brilliant to respond with, but instead said, “No Blake, it saddens me to hear you say that, but not quite yet.”
And then, he was gone.
Now unfortunately, his presence will never be felt again with his shaking fists and scrunched face when the machine breaks another human. I was wrong to doubt you Blake, as they have won for the moment; they drove you away from us and stole the truth with every drop of blood they took from you.
It was obvious to me that these conversations wore him down, not just those with me, but the very same he had been having for years with anyone who would listen; they had broken his spirit through their very contradictory existence to what is known as “reality” and to what actually is. I felt sad then when i saw his face drowning in disappointment and as I recount the look on his face, which I could never possibly describe, I am overcome with sorrow for him… but this sorrow extends also for you and I.
From what I was told, his suicide note read exactly like this, “I give up. No matter where I go, it is the same. We have lost ourselves and our governments are not concerned because they are safe, the rich are indifferent because their children can eat. I will no longer abide by the choices others make to dictate our existence.”
In my anger at the government for using people, specifically the way they do it to those who decide to work with dedication in helping professions within government services; I will say this, “Fuck you Alberta, fuck you Calgary, and finally fuck you Canada with your polite abstract indifference to those you charge with taking care of your sick, weak and your suffering. Fuck you!”
In the same way, I get saddened and angered when soldiers’ return home and their governments attempt to abandon them and their families in their times of great need.
To those government officials and the governments they represent, I say, “Fuck you too!”
He told me I was crazy for publishing my own work because there was no money in it. I know he meant well, and I hope he is sitting somewhere now, looking down and smiling on us all…
I have changed his name in light of the tragedy his family has suffered.
I looked him deep in the eyes with kindness and said, “If I rely on others, those in positions of authority on these or other subjects to decide whether I am good enough, I will always long to do it differently and I will never be good enough anyways… if I wished for their acceptance Blake, I would always be left wanting. Take a look around at what’s popular and tell me how much you enjoy the suggestions of Oprah or other personalities in general, who are the authorities on what we are supposed to like.”
He laughed, “I get your point buddy, but most of those people get rich…”
I laughed at this, “I like Tiger Woods for a lot of reasons and dislike him for many of the same, but one thing I noticed about him is that he is not human any longer Blake… he is led around by other people who claim to have his best interests in mind and we are fed the information like sheep, from other sheep who were fed quite specifically designed information packages in order to perpetuate the image of a human being, rather than an actual person… I never want another human being telling me what to like, what to watch, what to read, what to buy, how to dress, where to work, or what I can or can’t do with my life… I am fond of making mistakes and paying the price for them. I am fond of being able to write a book and use language in whatever fashion I choose, often incorrectly and always on purpose, but I am fond of this Blake. It is my right to do it as selfishly as I choose, just as it is yours or anyone else’s and it saddens me as a human being that when I tried to go through the authorities to publish my first two books, I was told that I have talent and that my use of the language is not only brilliant but different in a special way…”
I sipped from my coffee cup and he shrugged his shoulders, waiting for me to continue.
“But Blake, they rejected me each and every time for not being ‘sellable’… my ‘genre’ was all wrong and if I did this or adjusted that, I might be great and they would re-look at my work…” I shook my head, “you know me Blake, imagine how I felt hearing that my greatness was dependant on following the advice of people who had never strung their own words together with any meaning beyond ‘accepted’ or ‘rejected’. Yet I still had to feel the sting of rejection deep within me because a part of me believed that I, in fact needed their acceptance to be any good…”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our coffee and making slight grunts.
“I hear what you’re saying man, but still… there’s no money in it man. There’s no validation really, without that sign of success, which comes in terms of monetary value.”
“I disagree but understand the feeling Blake, I really do. I’ve gone through it over and over again, always ending up at the same place in my mind and heart… I write because I have no other choice. I publish because I have too man, I have to share the stories for whatever reason a person has to do something. For me, I feel it deep in my bones as being important, money be damned and besides, I have to work anyways right?” I flashed a quick smile, “whether I like it or not, or whether I write or not… I have to slave for this cause or that cause when the only true passion I have ever felt is for my fellow human beings and giving to them, even one with just a bit of the written word to chew on for even the shortest of times, if that’s all I have to give. I have been in the ‘helping’ field for so long, there really is no other alternative for me in terms of work and having said that, I also have to admit that I don’t like being a slave even for a positive purpose. I was not born for that, I was not raised to blindly follow an unprincipled world bent on starving itself of the wisdom so many men and women tried to instil and build in it. I am not the most intelligent creature on the planet, but Blake, I understand that every generation needs people willing to manipulate the system enough to somehow and hopefully affect change, even in the slightest manner…”
“There is no change David, there is nothing you or I can do to stop the world from eating itself, to steal your words for a moment, the world wants to devour itself in greed and blood… unfortunately you are as much a part of that as anyone else. I wish it were different, not because I have something to say, but because you do and others like you do. Because I have watched you through the years give yourself tirelessly to be let go, to quit when it gets to be too much, or when you’re pigeon holed by some half wit, who has no idea what it takes to spend a day in your shoes because they aren’t Gucci or Prada and yours happen to be rooted in humanity…”
I laughed until coffee dripped from my nose.
“You see, you know it’s true Dave, you know that through all of those years at the place, you were thrown out like yesterday’s trash because money talks and truth has to walk if it stands in the way of making money. I watched you then, struggle to bring truth to the surface. I commended you like others did, for standing your ground, but I also reminded you of the futility. Yet, you knew you had to do it even though the world has no principles and the place had grown into a system much worse than we could ever have imagined. What did that cost you…” He was red faced, “and it always will cost you the same thing David, always, no matter where you go, no matter what you do. But again, I commend you for moving forward when so many have written you off. And seriously, for you, all I wish is that one day, whenever that might be; you find a place where you really want to be and where you can feel like you’re actually making some kind of difference. I don’t know anyone else, who has continued to fight with such ferocity through being kicked around and punished for it like you. And somehow, you land on your feet…”
I waved my hand at him, “I know many people who have been through much more my friend, like yourself Blake. Think about how much you’ve taught me through the years in this field…” I shook my head, “but thanks man. I have a wonderful family, and wonderful friends who constantly give me the strength to carry on through it all. They remind me as to why I keep fighting every day, in order that I might look at my nieces and nephews and tell them a story one day that has a happy ending other than someone becoming rich and fat on the world.”
Our conversation had to end; he had to return to his government job where he was the smartest person working, but knew deep in his heart that he would never make it any further because he burned his bridges doing nothing more than telling the truth to people who either did not want to hear it, or simply could not believe it.
When I saw him in March of 2010, his eyes had dulled since the time we met months before; he was still slightly full of piss and vinegar back then, but not today and according to him, not any longer.
His last, parting words to me, “I give up David, they won… they beat us all.”
My eyes blurred with tears, as he stared at me and I tried to summon something brilliant to respond with, but instead said, “No Blake, it saddens me to hear you say that, but not quite yet.”
And then, he was gone.
Now unfortunately, his presence will never be felt again with his shaking fists and scrunched face when the machine breaks another human. I was wrong to doubt you Blake, as they have won for the moment; they drove you away from us and stole the truth with every drop of blood they took from you.
It was obvious to me that these conversations wore him down, not just those with me, but the very same he had been having for years with anyone who would listen; they had broken his spirit through their very contradictory existence to what is known as “reality” and to what actually is. I felt sad then when i saw his face drowning in disappointment and as I recount the look on his face, which I could never possibly describe, I am overcome with sorrow for him… but this sorrow extends also for you and I.
From what I was told, his suicide note read exactly like this, “I give up. No matter where I go, it is the same. We have lost ourselves and our governments are not concerned because they are safe, the rich are indifferent because their children can eat. I will no longer abide by the choices others make to dictate our existence.”
In my anger at the government for using people, specifically the way they do it to those who decide to work with dedication in helping professions within government services; I will say this, “Fuck you Alberta, fuck you Calgary, and finally fuck you Canada with your polite abstract indifference to those you charge with taking care of your sick, weak and your suffering. Fuck you!”
In the same way, I get saddened and angered when soldiers’ return home and their governments attempt to abandon them and their families in their times of great need.
To those government officials and the governments they represent, I say, “Fuck you too!”