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Brian Wilson

When I heard that Brian Wilson’s wife, Melinda, passed away, it reminded me when I saw him perform at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre. This was almost 8 years ago. During that time, Brian not only performed his Beach Boys songs that everyone recognizes. He played a lot of other stuff from the unreleased Smile album. He sat at the keyboard the whole time, and drank beers in between the songs. Didn’t even play the keyboard or any other instrument once. You could tell the effects of all the drugs he took and his deteriorating mental health had caught up with him, but he did the best he could. He’d been lucky to have his wife by his side during his times of trouble. Now that she’s gone, not sure if the same will apply. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.


Have you ever been an 3rd party to a conversation and just wished you could jump in and say something? I was dining alone recently when I overheard two people at the table right beside me talking. One of them was constantly telling the other one what to do and making judgmental remarks about almost everything the other person said. I could tell that the other person was getting annoyed but mostly they were just silently absorbing this from their friend. It made me angry hearing it and I wished I could just say something to the judgy one about being a know it all, but I didn’t of course. But it was so irritating that even when I tried to block it out I couldn’t. Newsflash people, just because you’re lucky enough to enjoy great health doesn’t make you a superior person, and berating your friend because they’re not as lucky as you makes you a jerk.

I think...

... that there has not been a confession about eating delicious chicken for some time. It's wonderful to live in a society where any hour of the day you can go out of your house and find chicken readily prepared for you in restaurants. It speaks to the greatness of this place that there is a continual supply of edible chicken. It is uninterrupted. May the chicken flow.

The tables have turned

There was a confession about a man mistreating a dog, and today I saw a dog mistreating a man. I called the SPCA on it.

Running errands feels intolerable

All I can think about is how ugly I am. Even simple tasks like grocery shopping is challenging. I know these thoughts are not true but they overwhelm.

A couple bars

It's amazing how all it takes is the first couple/few bars of a song to recall a memory so vivid from 10, 20, 30 years ago you can smell the air of where you were and the breath of who you were with the moment you very first heard it. Could be a musky beer soaked pub, or Hunky Bill's Perogies from the old PNE fairs, or someone's favourite cigarettes and spearmint gum. Then, all of the sudden you find yourself either sobbing buckets or grinning like a duck eating shit, and a million shades of either ecstasy, anguish, or longing flood through your mind in a split second like a tsunami. If it's a lover, you can feel their arms around you. If it's a place, perhaps a rural rodeo at dusk, flickering ride lights and fireflies everywhere, or the graffiti-pained walls of a derelict gas station or dim bus. Then, when the moment dissipates and the song is over, and you come to your senses, you feel like you've just been eclipsed a ghost or trail of smoke in an arid desert you've been chasing after for decades, but never been able to catch. Scientists may've yet to find a way to time travel, but I think musicians solved it long ago.


Recently, I made a connection with a couple who are into hosting parties in the basement of their home where everyone gets naked, drinks and play games like Cards Against Humanity and Balderdash. And then the real shenanigans begin! To say that this has been fun is the understatement of the year. I'm not sure how I got this lucky. Especially living in a place like Vancouver where this confession is guaranteed to get downvoted to oblivion by people who dream of doing the same.

They do know

I used to make excuses for my ex’s bad behaviour. I used to think maybe he just didn’t understand how it was hurting me and if I could just explain it to him he’d stop. But no matter how many times I explained nothing changed. My therapist made me see things more clearly when she said that if someone only behaves in certain ways when you’re alone with them, they know exactly what they’re doing. It was a lightbulb moment for me. If they know enough to hide it, they know that what they’re doing is wrong, so abusing you is a CHOICE.


I’ve heard people say that we shouldn’t have regrets, and mostly that’s how I live. But when I think about it, I realize that the regrets I do have are always because of the times I didn’t listen to my own voice. I listened to the people who said I wasn’t good enough to want better. The ones who told me not to ask for anything. To settle for any guy no matter how awful he was or how wrong we were together. Marry him because you can’t just be a single woman. Wow were they wrong. So here’s what I say to any young woman now: don’t settle! Do what feels right in your own gut. Listen very carefully to your instincts because they’re going to guide you better than any other person ever could. Don’t seek perfection in a relationship but don’t settle for one that doesn’t make you sing either. If I had it all to do over, I would never get married. I would have done the things that were important to me, not the things that made my parents happy. I’ve made my peace with the decisions I made in the past because you can’t change them, but I will always be honest about my feelings now. If I had known then how huge a sacrifice I was making, I would not have made it.

Making friends is difficult.

I've tried. I've tried joining things, volunteering, being out and about on hikes and in cafes. I smile, I make eye contact. I try to come across as open but not needy or clingy. Perish the thought that anyone ever have any needs. There's an incredible unspoken stigma against people who struggle with loneliness or who don't have many friends. I'm trying to persevere and be optimistic. It's just difficult.


summer co-workers

We worked with children at Grandview Park in Vancouver in the summer of '89. I worked with...

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