Toronto is in the midst of a huge cold front mixed in with a massive blizzard storm. I am currently living the artiste lifestyle of a poor impoverished canadian with little hope of any recognition as a post-2010 global poet, technocrat, entepreneurial writer and so forth. I am seriously demon-itized or de-money-tized. I haven’t had a full-time job doing what I love ever. I’ve never been able to pay a regular months rent without the trouble of not knowing where I am going to next and I am now on the brink of becoming 35. The place I lived before my current subsidized home for potentially ‘homeless’ and mentally ill individuals was a shelter for almost two months. And yes, I am a poet and yes my parents have good strong solid savings and are upwardly mobile middle-class Canadian baby boomer citizens from the Trudeau era of pomp, more glitz and glamour than we will ever see again in this new deficit and debt is the new fat age. It’s no longer modernism or post-modernism—it’s something else. Perhaps the beginning of a dystopia.
All that said, I was without tokens today and yesterday. I walked to work 5K in the cold yesterday morning from Bloor West at Lansdowne to Bloor and Yonge. As an impoverished soul scrabbling off of social services and living with young troubled alcholics thriving to overcome their illnesses and I in a rage making a pitiful attempt to combat depression and anxiety under such circumstances, I had a friend offer to loan me $20 bucks; she herself with slim pockets as a city jazz singer. The only love we got is our friends to save us through the day. It’s enough to hang onesself in these times and these awful grey days of such bleak enthusiasm for existence when one individual alone is taking in what is happening on the global scale economically. If you’re single, don’t have the support of family and are of a post Gen-X (Douglas Coupland) era then you can just kiss any ass for the hope of retirement prospects goodbye. Get ready for a one room slumber at high costs in an urban mecca that will feed you tech tech and more tech for dinner, meaning garb processed and packaged, even organic packaged nano-organic and packaged. The baby boomer generation has stuffed us ‘up the ass’ with a virtual reality that boasts no better than the slogan ‘take care of yourself but we’ll kill you with everything we’ve over saturated you with in the meantime and what’s more its going to move ever faster as we decode your DNA.
Back to my point–last minute in the middle of a blizzard my girlfriend from going on now 15 years ago – a circus ribbon performer and fellow thespian university roommate lent me 20 bucks last minute to get myself to work. My second day on an agency job doing a lot of writing with a potential to full-time 6 months down the long and winding road of winter into Spring! So, save the day. She rescued me. This and other friends have offered their support. Surrounded by Love. When I collapsed crying in her arms outside in the middle of a blizzard–she’s off to a Hawaii retreat tomorrow with her circus group and I am here in the white cold density of a city awash in an arctic brush. Nothing like trying to impress your new boss when you just feel you got the job of your dreams and recently moved to a new home to start a new chapter of your life while being a starving artist and you can’t prove reliable due to nature’s weather conditions and the frustrations provided by a system that does the minimum to support its low-income bracket (namely, the poor, but let’s not use that slogan) citizens. Me, being one. A poet. A writer. A piddler of an artist scraping by to get the next writing gig. Well, I made it in to work. 2 hours late having sucked up the emotional stress and used the fortitude it takes to persevere under such conditions of I don’t know where I’m sleeping tomorrow stress. The love of those special friends and those that believe in us is everything to keep us going. It is the only thing that really matters. Pair it down. Bare Bones. I wouldn’t have made it to work. I wouldn’t have been able to go on. I couldn’t have resisted the tears and her loving hug telling me – ‘Chin up’ You are loved! Big Hug! I’ve known you 15 years and you have what it takes, you’ll get through this and I’m here for you. Those friends, those special individuals–the ones we fight with and love ever so much make it all matter. I love you Rebecca. Thanks for saving my life today. Like so many others for the days that have passed and the days that lie ahead. I plan to love this much, if not more, in return.