The Hiker Returns.... With a tale...

So, here I am sitting in front of a crackling fire, obsessing over this hiker that made an appearance the other day.  Having some canned beans and stewed squirrel for dinner, when who walks in?  That’s right!  This fucking hiker shows up distraught and seemingly disoriented.  I just about spit the squirrel into the fire as I jumped up. 

Their "Hi" was casual as in like, “Oh Hey Paulo, whats up?  I’m here, it’s no big deal….”  I could clearly tell they were different than the last time I saw them.  As we talked, it becomes clear from their account of the past few days that they’ve had quite the adventure.  (Keeping in mind, I’ve been on this hillside for about 8 months now, so my people skills are somewhat lack lustre and I'm grilling them like a Spaniard would.  Remember that I’m also very lonely, so I am confused myself about how to proceed because yes, they're just as hot as they were a few days ago.)

As the story goes on, they recount their experience and the past few days since leaving the basecamp.  They had misplaced their map which totally sucks when you are following an unmarked trail.  The loss of the map put them on a wrong trail.  They admitted that they had thought about following their steps back to my location immediately, but they were convinced that everything was okay and kept on.

So, they continued their hike and the events of the adventure through the various switch backs, over the peaks, and through the trees.  They had a brief and near deadly encounter with a bear that they were luckily able to scare off by playing Justin Bieber music (which bothered me that they had that available to them on a mountain side, but hey, I'll pack that little bastard for my next trip if it works.)  They became more uneasy as nightfall hit, and they were lucky to find a cave in the hillside and were able to spend a few nights in while they figured out what to do.  They thanked me for keeping them alive with the gift of my squirrel jerky I gave them when they made their departure from my Basecamp. 

As they told me the tale of their adventure, I couldn’t help but take note of their full canteen of water.  Not really that odd, I have found fresh water in various locations, so they could have done the same.  I’m not sure if now would be a good time to point out that I am generally suspect of people and have some pretty major trust issues surrounding the people I meet especially as they tell me tales that are somewhat incredulous.  I have met a number of “one-uppers”  in life. (“one uppers” are people that no matter what you say, they’ve got a similar story that is to them a more insane and better version to tell.) I usually run from these people as fast as my tiny legs can carry me.

Anyhow, back to the poor hiker, I offered them some of my beans and squirrel and they said they weren't hungry… ? Huh? You’ve only had about 3 strips of jerky in as many days and you aren’t hungry?  Something seems off, are they anorexic?  How did they even manage to make it back here with no energy?

That’s when it dawned on me, they were wearing new gloves.  This lying fucker hadn’t been lost in the hills, they were home and have come back for whatever god damned reason.  What was going on, was I being punked?  I looked around for a crew and cameras, and promising myself that whoever decided to put this together would be circumcised with the lid from my canned beans.  I was instantly on the offensive. I completely shut everything off as far as conversation went and stuck to listening to their tale, and seeing just how big of a hole they would dig for themselves.  I also took this opportunity to try and figure out how the hell I was going to get rid of them, because something wasn't right.  

Now, normally I would just call them out and call their bullshit.  Something in this case suggested that could end up resulting in Paulo Jerky, soooooo, I need a strategy.  I guess the goal will be to figure out a way to make myself repulsive?  That’s pretty much impossible, I’m as sexy as Jennie Garth in that candy shoes ad where she’s sitting taking a crap.  Yeah, I’m pretty irresistible, and I've found that sometimes the more awful you can be to someone the more they want to stick around.  Martyr Complex?

I'll be honest, the lonely part of me kicks in.  "Maybe they are trying to impress you, and get your attention?"  It is clearly my fault that I didn’t give them the attention at the beginning like I should have.  I mean had I shown my true thoughts and feelings when they showed up, they would have been clear on how cool I thought they were to begin with and they wouldn’t need to compensate so much?  Make sense? Nope, it’s fucking crazy, that’s why.  They probably would have thought I was a lonely and desperate mountain man and wouldn't have come back for a second look.  I've been that guy before, sometimes you have to have a second look to find out if something is crap or not. 

Alright, so whats the strategy here?  I have some options…

I can ask them why they’re fibbing?  Is it for effect?  Do they actually believe what they are telling me?  If it's for effect, then they can stop, cause I'm into them.  If they believe what they are saying (even if they don't want to admit they're doing it for attention, then.... yeah, that settles that)

I can ignore it, and try absolutely anything to get them to share a sleeping bag with me for a few days. (Being the second of the month, I had my monthly bath yesterday, WIN!)  This may not work out well in the long run as they may never leave and my 5 months remaining up here will be shortened immensely from diminishing rations. 

I can just withdraw from them completely, ask them to leave me alone, and go on about my business.  However, that one leaves me with unanswered questions as to why they did it.  Anyone that knows me knows that this will torment me for life. 

So, I think about it some more… Do they suffer from Martyr Syndrome? 

Here I am sitting across the fire from this individual, who hours earlier I was obsessed with.  Now, I’m just looking at them, awkwardly.  I lied and blamed this on my social awkwardness from being isolated, but really, I’m fighting the urge to say.  “Why the fuck are you here, and what the fuck do you want from me.  I know you went somewhere and got new gloves and you’re lying about a bear.  The only bear you’re going to have a run in with will be me, and yes, Justin Bieber will make me run away too.”

This my friends, is why I'm up here in the first place.  So, maybe I’ll fill you in on how things progress as I find out more….

Paulo has a stroke.....?

I’ve always found that I am the type of person that connects with people before I connect with things.  What that means is that I find an interaction with a person to hold far more importance than a collection of stuff.  Possessions have always been a burden of sorts they seem to weigh down the freedom that I feel and they make me feel enslaved to them in a spiritual way.  The expression “things can own you” rings a certain level of truth for me. 

Like any great turning point in life, after you go through it you can trace back usually to the key point at which things begin to change.  There is always a specific moment in life where any transformation begins to take place, be it an emotional, spiritual or a physical transformation.  The event can be a conscious decision, a lifestyle change, or a specific event or grouping of events. 

The trick with things in life is that the test comes first and the lesson comes after.  One day you can be sitting minding your own business, checking what your friends are up to on one of the many social networks intended to connect you.  The thing with a social network is that it cheapens the interaction you have by making it possible to connect with many people quickly, and easily.  I found that I had been using social networks exactly how they were designed, and was essentially using them to keep tabs without actually connecting with people.  I felt because I had a growing list of followers and connections, that I wasn’t alone in the world.

It doesn't seem like anything out of the ordinary, for most people, it becomes a matter of routine.  Once there was a phone call, now its a post, or a click.  You don’t realize how much your life has changed, you tell yourself it hasn’t changed you.  Then one morning, you find yourself staring at a page, reading a message from someone you don’t know telling someone that you do know who you’ve considered a dear friend ”Rest in Peace”.  That is when a small part of you falls off, and flakes away, and you realized that you’ve lost a part of yourself.  The realization that you have changed is hard enough to contend with, much less dealing with the concept of what made you realize it to begin with.

Society programs conditions into how to handle events, and what should be expected of you in response to certain events.  It wasn’t long after finding out that one of my dear friends had passed away that I found myself going through the motions of grief, struggling with the loss. I didn’t know I was struggling, or having trouble with any of it, until much later of course. I felt like I just needed to do what was expected.  You tell yourself that it will be okay and that life will go on.  Life doesn’t actually go on, it is forever changed, the loss never gets easier.  You just get more accustomed to how you feel and it becomes your new normal. 

As you trace back the events in your life, you remember the pivot points that had the most significant impact.  My story is no different, its the proverbial fork in the road that one path leads you to one fate, and the other along another path.  These forks present themselves at the most bizarre of times, and somedays you find yourself at a fork that feels like a traffic circle where all the exits have spikes to prevent you from making your way out without some damage from the route.  Life does this, it’s how we learn. 

I was sitting in a bright yellow shirt, the front row of a community centre, with the rest of the pallbearers.  Feeling like you are undeserving to be there with the rest of the people.  Feeling guilty that you were too distant, and didn’t try to spend more time with your friend.  You feel the emptiness of the void that exists knowing you will never be able to have the chance ever again.  You sit there, with a box of kleenex to wipe away your tears for the amazing people that you knew, you think about the things they taught you in the fourteen years you’ve known them.  You smile from time to time at the good memories.  You hear other peoples stories about them, and you remember how much a part of their story you actually were.  You realize how much of your story they are a part of.  You remember how you felt the moment you walked in, and how the rush of emotion came over you when you don’t recognize anyone, and their sister comes across the room to hug you.  They tell you how great of a friend you were, you had the whole car ride to think about how you have become self absorbed, and how you wished you would have done more.  You cry.  Once the stop is pulled out, you wont stop.  The seal has been broken and your emotion is free to flow without restriction.  No one is judging you.  This moment will never be forgotten, it will live with you forever.  You will retire the greeting “Hey Beautiful!” which was once reserved for this friend. You start to change things in honour of the loss that you’re feeling, it’s part of the process of honouring the person that has left the world.  It’s a gripping feeling that takes over.  You leave the event, feeling like you shared your grief with others, and you are reassured that you aren't alone in the loss.  There is a certain aspect of everything where you are reminded again of the value of your mortality, and you begin to yearn for experience in ways that are true to what is important to you, and the people that you want to honour.  

You remind yourself of the values that are important to you, and the things that you and your friend shared.  You try to live to honour their passions, and carry on their legacy in some way.  You go home, thinking about your day on the car ride home.  You stop and see family along the way for comfort and support.  You think to yourself, no one else knows how I feel right now.  I’m alone, even though you were just in a room full of people that shared in the feeling that you had, but you have internalized what you feel and you made it about you, and the guilt that you feel for not being a better friend. The drive home isn’t memorable, nothing of any importance happens.  You just make your way down the highway in a daze and programatically go through the next year just trying to remember who you are and how your life will be different going forward.  A few months and you’ve adjusted into the new normal. 

Before you know it a year has passed.  You’ve resumed your life, and you didn’t even realize it but you snapped back into your routine so quickly that even you didn’t notice, and you didn’t see it in retrospect.  The months click by, and before you know it you are staring down the brunt of another friend who has left the planet.  You question where you are at in life, you question your happiness.  The evaluations that you are living for you, and living your truth are questions that weigh on your mind.  You don’t feel the hurt because you’re so caught up in life.  It is easier this way. You remove emotion from everything you do.  Passion has died in your life, and you think that this is what life is.  You convince yourself that you are alive, and you are happy.  The goals you are reaching for have convinced you that they are worthy and they are important.  You don’t question that things are exactly as they should be. 

You’re sitting in a pew in a church, watching videos of your friend who lived a full life.  They tried to maximize every moment of their life once they realized that their mortality was at stake.  Only then did they seem to live with intent, and strive to have moments that were marked and memorable.  The guilt and questions of life flood back as you think about where you are at and what is important to you. You become retrospective about the things you have accomplished in the past year, six months, and in your life.  You begin to evaluate the possessions you have and you question their value to you.  You’ve lost a piece of yourself and you aren’t sure exactly how to get it back.  If you were standing having a heart to heart conversation with your twenty year old self at thirty, you wouldn’t even be able to see eye to eye.  Was this personal growth, or was this selfless compromise?

At twenty you had simplicity, your life was comprised of a few suitcases of clothing, and memorabilia that was sentimental.  You had a teddy bear that you slept with, and you had photos of friends that you didn’t see often.  You had memories and were generally care free and stress free.  You thought life was one great adventure.  People who you perceived were older and wiser told you things like, “You need to have some roots, you need somewhere to settle down and build a life” or “you can’t ride on other peoples coat tails forever.”  You believed them because they were role models to you.  If you thought about the things that were important to you at the time, having a car, or a house, or furniture didn't really mesh with the priorities for you right now.  You bragged about the fact that you could move all of what you own in one compact car.  You were truly mobile, you had nothing to really tie you down.  

As you look back on your life, you realized that at some point, you stopped being so fluid in life, and you started slowing things down.  This comes along with acquisition of possessions and things that you don’t necessarily need, but can no longer borrow or use because other people around you will not share them with you.  You contemplate what kind of home you want to build for yourself, and you think about what that would look like.  You miss some opportunities and you feel like you’ve missed the boat, and you don’t really know where to start with any of it.  You think about the kind of relationship you want to have, you have a list of criteria for the person that will make you feel engaged and alive.  The list seems impossible initially, but then all of a sudden the universe delivers what you’ve thought would never be found.  It’s not perfect, but you accept that perfection doesn’t exist and you find a way to make the most of the situation because things are pretty close, and that’s enough for you. 

You begin your new life adjusting to all the changes, modifying your goals blindly, changing what is important to you for your new life with someone.  You begin to plan and move along a path of a couple, working with each other to make things happen collectively.  It’s fast paced and things move quickly.  It all feels right so you go with it.  You don’t really stop to evaluate, or check in with yourself as an individual and that individual person gets lost slightly in the shuffle of the new couple.  In my case, it got lost entirely in the shuffle.  Looking back, it was clear to see that I was party to a plan, that wasn’t my plan.  I was a financier in a high risk investment with no financial pay back.  What I received in return was experience, memories, and life experience.  There isn’t a moment I looked at what I was doing and said, what a waste.  We are the sum of our experiences and this was an operation in the formula of who I am. 

Then you look back in retrospect from the perspective of being a thirty year old. You wake up one morning, you have two properties, a fleet of vehicles, and you run around scrambling trying to pay for it all.  You’ve become consumed by life and paying for your possessions that you aren’t living.  You think you are alive, but that is the stress that reminds you that you exist, but you are not existing. You’ve become so obsessed with the pursuit of goals and a collective ambition that has been adopted as yours that you forgot what was important, how do you get back to what’s important to you again once you have strayed that far.  How do you make way to rein it all in.

The beauty of retrospect is the clarity in which we can see where we strayed.  Unfortunately this type of clarity is usually the result of a cataclysmic event in life that has become the catalyst of change or the “a-ha” moment where even though at the time we didn’t know that a pivotal change was taking place, that was exactly what was happening to you.  We can pin point this moment once we have gone through the terrors of the transition, but not before or during.

So, logically you need to decide where to go from here and you think to yourself.  What is it all about. How do you get back to the path that is right for you.  Theres no escaping the life you’ve created without some drastic measures.  It seems that it is easier to get into these situations than it is to get out of them.  That is true.  Typically, when one realizes they have followed the wrong path in life, they feel a sense of entrapment and hopelessness.  You don’t know what steps you need to take to get out of what you’ve been telling yourself you’ve wanted for so long.  Then, as you sit around wondering how you got here, how you get back, and what to do a cataclysmic event takes place in your life that jars you into action.  You may be jarred into action by force or out of a desire to change things for yourself. Whatever the reason, it’s starting to happen to you.  

The cataclysm will come in a variety of forms, a death, disease, breakup, or some other moment that causes you to question your very existence.   In my case it was a number of deaths followed by a breakup.  It took me a while to see that the life my partner and I were building together was the life that they wanted, and not the life I wanted.  Our collective goals were a mirror of their goals.  This was a compromise I made as a result of being indifferent about most direction in life, and my core values and beliefs that put humans and companionship above all other goals.   I enjoyed having nice things, but those things were not a reflection of the person I was.  Material items were something I didn’t want to hold too dear to myself because they could be taken away from me.  Humans could be taken away as well, but at the same time there is value and return on the emotional investment you make in people. 

The great thing about cataclysmic change is the opportunities it provides you with.  Things that when your life is going smoothly seem to be far from mind.  I had no idea where I was going with this, so I’m stopping now. Hope you enjoyed.

Where the fuck did you come from?

Ever meet someone and think to yourself; “Holy FUCK! this person is the best thing since Microwave Popcorn in a Pop-up Bowl!!!!”

There’s this strange phenomena that occurs whenever I am feeling lonely, and I meet anyone that can form a sentence using adverbs and adjectives without hash tagging them. This phenomena is what I refer to as “Falling off the mother fucking cliff”  why do I call it that?  Go fall off a cliff, and it won’t take long before you too realize just how helpless it is to fight what is happening to you.  No matter what you try to do, you can’t stop falling. (Just like that Alicia Keys song.) So, resolve yourself to the fact that you fell off the cliff and accept that you are now falling.  If you can’t resolve yourself to falling, you’re just going to come off as a lunatic. (Kind of like Tyler Duerden in Fightclub as he fights himself in the parking lot.)  So… there is some advice for people out there that have found themselves falling off the cliff, and it is really simple.  

So, back to my falling off the mother fucking cliff.  Imagine this, in the midst of moving basecamp, just as I was getting some of the finer details set in place and figuring, yes I’m good, I can do this, then in struts a hiker dressed to the nines in the latest hiking technology with all the gear you thought you would want to have.  They’re there, standing in the middle of your solitude and looking down on you as though they’re just as surprised to see you as you are them.   Now, keeping in mind, I’ve been in various parts of the bush since the fall.  I don’t get a lot of interaction with people.  Usually when I do, it’s in a controlled and coordinated manner.  Having someone take the reins and walk into my world where I have no control was a bit off putting.  I was unsure if what was happening was real. 

Then, we spoke, for hours actually.  It seemed like there would never be anything we couldn’t talk about.  Maybe it was the loneliness and the isolation that did it, and that human interaction felt so good at this moment.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that somehow I lost my footing and fell off that mother fucking cliff.  Now, not sure if you’ve been hiking ever or not, but the objective is to follow a trail, or plan and get home before dark.  So, like all great things, they must come to an end.  I wanted nothing more than for this hiker to stay with me all night, but really, I had just moved my base camp and wasn’t exactly set up to accommodate anyone but myself at this point. Really, what am I supposed to say?  “Hey, wanna stick around, I have a great pot of beans and chilli to make, and we can roll up into one sleeping bag for the night…. what do ya say?”

I know many that would scoff me for not trying, but alas, that is not my style.  I pointed the hiker in the direction of my blog, wished them well on their way, and gave them some of my earlier jerky that I had made.  (It was made from squirrels, and I wasn’t really a fan.)

So, since the hiker disappeared over the summit and returned to where people shower more than once a fortnight, I’m not sure if they will remember me or not.  Now, I’m up in this wilderness until spring melt, that is what I planned, and promised myself.  I am going no where until then.  When I had this encounter, my basecamp had just been moved and much of it was still packed up…. It would be very very easy to get out of here and follow them down the face.  Who knows if the hiker even cared about me or if they were just afraid of becoming my “Mountain Wife” and said what they needed to say to get out of here.  Needless to say, here I sit thinking about them returning to me, to spend the rest of the winter with me collecting nuts, trapping critters, and roaming the lands like cro-magnon hunter gatherers, grunting and hunting. 

It’s been 4 days since they left the basecamp, I expect they made it home and have returned to their normal programming.  I’m a bit too far out to expect to see them terribly soon, but I have made instructions to the steno pool monitoring blog comments that they are to make every attempt to send them back out this way after I get some more stores sent out so I can offer a proper reception.  That is what is referred to as falling of a mother fucking cliff.  It’s irrational processing of thoughts and playing out a storyline faster that it actually plays out so that you can determine if there is a point in continuing. It’s a fantastic little place where you wonder why the heck you do what you do.

So, when you fall off the cliff, because you can’t get back onto it, the best approach is to leave your body, and let your brain take over where the irrational is playing in, only then will you see the truth in what the situation is.  I’ve fallen off the cliff as a result of people being nice…. that’s the mind fuck that is referred to as wishful thinking.  The only thing worse than falling off the cliff, is for both of you to do it simultaneously.  That’s when real damage is done.

Myrna, Beulah, and Prudence

Sometimes people come into our lives and we tend to overthink and over evaluate what the meaning is.  I have three of those particular people that I have been trying to figure out lately.  I don't know if I'm supposed to pursue romantic congress, or what exactly their station is in my circumstance. 

I don't know what the situation is half the time, because they can't seem to send a direct enough message for me to intercept, and I'm not sure if I should over think the situation or not.  It likely has a little bit to do with my ego, which I need to remember to check.  The ego thing in itself is such a cluster fuck of the mind which makes you think that you are awesome, then in the next breath you have self image and self worth issues that make you question if you're worthy of what you think you deserve. It's a vicious cycle. 

Myrna is a great lady, she smiles and laughs, and is a caring soul.  There are hints that she would like to say something that is on her mind, my ego says that she likes me and wants to pursue something with me.  My self worth wonders why.  Then I think about the signs, and over analyze everything to death and somehow get myself into a tizzy where I am delusional and have the following conversation with myself,

"oh wow, they want to date me.  I don't know how that makes me feel?  I can't let on that I think they want to date me because if I'm wrong then I everything will be awkward, but I think they want to date me and I don't know if they do or not, so that's all I'm going to think about and when I do interact with them its going to be super awkward because I have to be smart and not let on that I think they want to date me...."

Yeah, its a cluster fuck in the brain that is just the most amazing experience one can have.  So, what I've learned from this is... I'm an idiot and I don't pick up on subtext, well that's not true.  What is true is, I have ADHD and people with ADHD sometimes can't pick up on subtext, but when they do, they sometimes (read: nearly always) over analyze the situation and read far more into it than they need to. 

Repeat the story above with Beulah, and again with Prudence, and you will have a pretty good summary of the past 10 years of my life with people that are friends and wanted more, or people that eluded to things, and when I caught on it was a bit too late. 

How the fuck do you go back and apologize to these people and tell them that you're a grade A asshole?  Answer, you don't, it's their fucking fault for beating around the bush and not telling you their truth.   Sometimes, being evasive, and elusive is stupid because it works.  There are people out there that may not like the truth, but it's certainly more efficient than playing a game of coy school girl.  The only time I like that game is when we're role playing in the bedroom (as consenting adults.)

Well that is my procrastination rant for the evening, I have to be up early to boil water for my monthly sponge bath. 

Ceasar!!!!

So I know that many of you think that I may have died, based on the panic stricken messages that I did not receive over the holidays inquiring to the status of my health, and safety.  It’s really easy to feel unloved when you’re out of sight and out of mind.  However, at the same time, the fact that no one is nagging me is a good indication in the faith that people put in my ability to go this alone and be able to navigate and survive the wilderness on my own with the tools of my own devices.  So we can appreciate that, plus, I’m fucking awesome, what the hell is there to worry about.

The past month has been an interesting adventure.  I had a few days where I just didn’t feel like giving a shit about anything.  I didn’t set any trap lines, I didn’t gather any food, I didn’t really do much.  I slept a lot, dipped into emergency food stores (which isn’t a big deal as long as I replenish them.)  Days like this happen, you just have to be able to roll with the punches.  Also, there have been some pretty intense planning and strategy sessions which can be exhaustive if you don’t manage the amount of time and energy you put into building your next strategy.  The strategy I was working on was how to move basecamp and make it more secure.  A plan that will rely heavily on a solid strategy, that is executed with precision and discipline.  There are logistics to consider, there are improvements needed, and then there is the physical security aspects of having a basecamp on your own in somewhat new territory.   So, I worked on that a lot which took me away from the primal needs of my day to day.  That’s why you pack a contingency ration and use it as needed.  I’ve already sent out a replenish order for the things I have used so I’m good that way. 

Whenever I establish a basecamp, I hold a ceremony to commission each and every basecamp.  The current basecamp was commissioned with a snowball being thrown at the door in November to symbolize the impenetrable strength that it is to represent to me.  I’ve also had them commissioned by myself as I sometimes run around acting like I am Ceasar Paulo of the Middle of Nowhere. I run around pretending the trees are my army and are all standing at attention for me, ignoring the fact that no matter what I would ask them to do would probably be ignored.

In any case, I consider myself royalty and think pretty highly of myself.  Really though, I’m the most amazing human for miles and miles. So, in building my strategy and plan for moving my basecamp, which is a phenomenal undertaking both emotionally, and logistically.  I found a few things that rang true to any plan and have established some rules to follow whenever you are making plans to change anything be it moving a basecamp from one summit to another at 1300 meters above sea level, or just making a plan for your own life.  

Rule 1, Avoid critics.  These fuckers will do anything to see you fail, they will have some valid criticisms that will help you plan better, but at the same time, they don’t understand your journey, so don’t let their opinion or criticisms fuck with the plans you are making for your life.  They wont be there if you fail, other than to be smug about it anyhow so really.  Just skip the critic part. 

Rule 2, Keep the plan a secret.  Letting people in on your plans, gives them opportunities to throw wrenches into your plan.  Act like a publicly traded company that is just about to announce  a super huge deal that will send shares soaring.  “Loose lips, sink ships” (and are unattractive.)

Rule 3,  Have a smart plan, think about possible set backs, and make a contingency for each. Shit happens, theres no reason you should feel defeated because something happens that you aren’t ready for.  Figure out what the issues will be and then figure out the best way to address them to accomplish what needs to be accomplished.  Simple right?  Some people have trouble putting this one into practice. 

Rule 4, Assume that no one will help you.  In my case, I’m in this alone, I have no one to help.  I mean sure, the squirrels and moose are going to stare at me and monitor the progress, but they sure as shit aren’t going to be helping move my piles of crap from one camp to the next.  I have to know that I can do it on my own, and that I will be able to maintain and sustain on my own as well.  Look at your plan this way.  If you do have help, go back to rule three, and factor that help not being there as it’s likely that at some point you will be let down by a support. 

Rule 5, don’t worry about it, just get doing it.  It will happen.  Set yourself some small victories that can be measured easily.  For example.  I set the goal that I want to move from my current position, to another position elsewhere.  First thing I needed to do was to decide where I wanted to be.  Once that was decided, I started thinking about how much I needed to accomplish in order to get there.  I broke down this evaluation into groups of things that needed to be done to prepare, and each of those things once completed became a point on the scale that measured the success.  The more you accomplish in the right direction, the easier it gets.  Setting small points to be at in order to achieve a larger goal breaks it up into small things that you can achieve and are less overwhelming. 

So, when you’re running around acting like Cesar on the side of a mountain (Maybe I’m more like Moses) you can remember that in life, you are the King (or queen) and you control the environment you are in and the things you allow to happen become a part of your success.  With that, I’m going to cook up some beans and fart myself into tomorrow. 

Hail Ceasar!

My Bucket of Fucks

Once in a while you have an awesome day, nothing can get you down, nothing can make you angry.  It usually comes after a good nights rest, for me at least.  Today was one of those days, it was a great day to do things like weed out your friends on various social networking sites, or just stop giving people the energy they so clearly don’t deserve. 

Most of the time, on a typical day I try to have a few “fucks” in my “bucket of fucks” which is where I keep all my “Give-a-fucks.”  Today the bucket was empty, and I felt empowered.  I don’t know why as humans we have the desire to keep holding on to things that at the end of the day add no value to us.  Someone once told me that your things begin to own you, well this is also true with “Friends.” 

I was doing some “Friend Math” today, which is basically me thinking about each person, and wondering, do they add value, or do they suck energy.  One is a positive, the other is a negative.  What you want to do when you do friend math is you want to have people on the positive side of zero.  Not too great into the positive, because then you become the void in their life and you are effectively using them.  

When it comes to people, and interpersonal interactions, you look at it over a long period of time, which is what makes it so difficult, it’s really like the money market.  Sometimes it takes a while to see a return on your investment, and the last thing you want to do is cut your losses before you have a chance to realize a gain.  It’s a tricky balance.   I went through the process today with a few people, it’s really quite exhausting and can be emotionally draining to realize you have been getting every ounce of your energy sucked from your soul just to appease a friendship.  Sometimes, it’s easy to see it has been happening, other times it is very difficult to see. 

I have a bit of a formula that I use to evaluate, firstly, I heavily scrutinize people in the same area code or time zone as me.  Those are the people who  are geographically closest to you, and that you should (logically) interact with the most. Well, when you look at that grouping of people, you have to ask yourself a few questions.  I’ll go through them, and then I’ll explain why this is important.

For people in the same geographic region as you (this may be 10 feet, or 1000 miles)

“How long have you known them?” 

if that answer is more than a year, and you haven’t seen them socially in that time more than once, there is a very good chance they should drop a few points.  I would start everyone off with a score of 5 and move from there.  (Point score +1 for yes or -1 for no.)

Do they know your mother/father’s name?

This is a way to exclude people from further scrutiny quickly and easily.  Chances are if they know your family somewhat, then they are probably the type of person that you can pick up where you left off even if it has been 30 years.

Have they ever been in your home for any reason other than alcohol or sex?

Score of -3 for no and +3 for yes.  Again, someone that you’ve trusted to come into your home when you aren’t having a party or sleeping with them is an indication that they may very well be trustworthy and should be evaluated on an individual basis. 

When is the last time you saw them?

If you haven't seen them since you’ve added them to your list of friends, good chance you should probably give them a call and make a plan.  Or delete them, you’re just data collecting from them. 

What secrets about you do they know?

Is it wise to upset someone that has damaging details (especially if they have proof) of something you’ve done in your life?  Sometimes, it’s easier to keep a friend, than fight a rumour.

Are they always busy when you try to plan things with them, and never get back to you when you ask them to let you know what may work?  They’re shit bags and don’t give a fuck about you, so maybe you should just cut the ties.  I’ve never met someone so piss poor at time management that they can’t find a spare hour in a week to meet up.  The “I’m busy” excuse works when it is justified, but the rest of the time it’s a default excuse.  (Yes, I’ve used it, but now I just tell people flat out that I would rather give myself a battery acid enema than hang out with them.  They usually get the point)

These questions should serve as some general guidelines on how to get rid of the fuckers that are sucking the life out of you.  

It’s tricky to navigate the world of friendships and relationships.  Stick to this bitter philosophy and remember that if you die with 2 or 3 good friends then you are lucky.  No one likes a funeral where all the good cold cuts and squares are taken by assholes who didn’t really give a shit.  Think about those people as you navigate life. 

This whole idea is really about getting rid of the “fucks” you have in your life, and emptying out the “bucket of fucks” to do it. 

Drive-Thru, Dumps, and Trail Running! FUCK!

So as some of you may know, I have a particular friend, let's call her Andrea, (she blogs here) who I’ve been quoted as saying "is Awesome".  Someday's I question my sanity, I still think Andrea is awesome, but when I run out of things to observe, usually because it’s winter and the forest is blanketed in a beautiful white carpet of snow.  So pristine in fact, that you don’t even want to tread on it for it would disturb its very majesty.  I think about footprints in the snow, and the first thing I think, how the fuck did Olaf in Frozen not leave behind a print as he dragged his snowy ass around in the snow throughout the whole movie.  I’m sure he did, but I don’t have a memory of it so it hasn’t happened yet.  If a tree falls…….

So back to my Sadistic friend Andrea who thinks that she is clever and witty. (She actually is the funniest person I know.)  I had a brief and by brief I MEAN BRIEF, conversation with her.  You see I have access to some technology out here in the middle of nowhere.  I would be pretty stupid not to equip myself adequately for the expedition. So, I shot out a message to her using some sort of Satellite device that I can only explain as “wizardly.” The message was probably as abrupt as the last few telegraphs coming off of the Titanic, it simply said.  “Fuck me! I’m horny, and NO Blog title.”  Now the message out seems vulgar to some, but this sadistic friend knows that by my professing my ravenous “hornatious” state, was the same as saying “All is well, I don’t need anything.”  

A few hours later, I received the following reply, “Fuck yourself, how about Drive-thru, dumps, and trail running.”  I thought, what a bitch, that’s not funny.…  It’s hilarious!!! 

I was thinking about the Drive-thru, dumps, and trail running concept slightly and didn’t know how my current reality would be able to really have any relevant point of reference to that whole nonsense.  I know that her intentions were simple.  Andrea was probably being a twat about the fact that I like to hit up drive-thrus for just about anything.  I thought a bit more deeply, and remembered, she’s completely self-involved, I’ll bet I caught her in the middle of trying to read email while simultaneously watch netflix as she wiggled her nose, and couldn’t be bothered with helping me figure out what type of retrospect to share.  This was likely her blog post title for the week. Somedays she's so transparent, but I accept her challenge, and will kick ass in writing a killer post to share with you.  I’m really just here for you.

Back to my love of drive-thru, if it has a drive-thru, I’ll buy whatever they’re selling, I really don’t like the drive-thrus with the rules that you have to be in a vehicle.  Really, if I want your product, you should be willing to provide it to me if I wanna stroll through on a pair of stilts, a unicycle or whilst being piggy backed on my cranky uncles back.  

I thought about a few of my favourite drive-thru memories, one in particular was with Andrea, she was wincing and moaning about how there are no hot navy guys to have sex with on this particular day.  I was confused about this particular rant, but I went with it knowing I would forever be changed/scarred/regretful, I boldly asked her; “What makes navy guys different?”  Andrea snorted a retort, “having sex with regular guys is like wanting a latte with whatever seasonal spicing from Starbucks, and getting the equivalent of someone just dumping a single creamer from a gas station into a cup of lukewarm coffee, it’s almost as pointless as eating hemp hearts.”  I laughed at her description, and could only imagine what her colourful depiction of fucking a seaman would be. 

Andrea didn’t naturally go into detail about the seaman difference, likely because something shiny distracted her, and really, she thinks everyone can read her mind.  Sometimes, they can’t Andrea.  So I was forced, and I asked, “so you’re telling me that’s not what it’s like with a naval member?”  

She snapped her head around and looked at me with a crazy gaze as if I had just spit out a mouth full of oil of oregano on her, she had been distracted by something on the outside of the car, and when she spun her head around it was so fast that it was almost like she spun it three times on her shoulders as she glared and gasped in unison; “No, have you seen sailors? they’re fucking hot man!” as if that was enough of a response for me to understand.  I had to change my approach, she was obviously hyper-focusing on something new, and If i wanted the answer, I would have to change the way I’m asking the question, or hit her with what I call a “Riti-Pen” which is basically an Epi-Pen with a dose of Ritalin so intense that it would give Pauly Shore the focus of an Asian Violinist.  

Not wanting to waste my Riti-Pen on her, I decided that I would just tell her I’m stupid and that she needed to be more clear, because she was clearly more affluent in the fucking of sailors than I was.  I personally only had experience with Air Force, they’re usually self involved to the point where they call out their own name in bed.  Yeah, it’s like they don’t really need anyone else in the room. 

Andrea started on about some sailor she knew, and his variety of very attractive man friends.  Immediately, I was imagining the start of just about every gay porno I’ve ever seen that had a naval theme….. Was that it?  She was liking the idea of a bunch of people that were more into each other than they were into her?  No, she elaborated on how they seem eager, and have the best stamina ever.  I may be paraphrasing, but I think she said something to the effect of.  They can run half marathons, you know they are good in bed. I run half marathons, and I make people crazy when I have sex with them, I’m so good.  Well, that settled that.

As soon as she started talking about marathons, I remembered a time when we had gone travelling together…. sometimes, there are things in life worth doing, and some worth doing again.  Travelling with Andrea is something I would do again in a heart beat.  A few years back, we went off to San Diego, and spent a week looking for seals, and monitoring bowel movements.  Apparently that trip helped us determine that I help with regularity.  I’m like fibre, I guess.  My friend had been having some issues taking dumps and she didn’t know what was going on.  She went on holiday with me, and it was like all of a sudden her body realized that I was awesome, and that she should poop regularly while she was in my company, it was an honour thing.  

Lucky for us, we were wise enough to get a private room for the duration of our stay, and I’m sure the other patrons appreciated it too.  I will credit Andrea with the new paint that they had to put in that bathroom after we left.  I’m not sure if I got charged for the damages to the paint or not.  Oh well, some things just don't matter.

So while Andrea has been able to dump regularly ever since, You’re welcome, She and I have grown closer and closer over the years.  It’s to the point when she tells me she’s going trail running, I know what she means.  However, I don’t usually know why.  I don’t ask why, anything that gets her out of the house for hours so she can’t comment and tag me in every thing on social media is a win!  

This week, she decided that she is going to take a dump, lock down a naval guy, and take him trail running.  I can only imagine one of them will come back with a dick in the ass.  I’ll bet it will be the sailor. I envision Andrea tripping and falling (Read: pretending to trip and fall, and be hurt) so that this poor unsuspecting seaman will come along and flex his muscles and carry her off the trail to safety.  She will faint and insist he take her back to her place and make sure she is okay.  Now anyone that has ever been to Andrea’s place knows she has a narrow hallway from her doorway which leads to a 90 degree turn into another hallway, first door is her bedroom, second door is her bathroom.  Somehow she has managed to make it so that her bedroom door blocks the exit when people come in so it’s like a funnel for people to go from the living area of the place, into her bedroom.  Now, my question is, why not just have the hall go through the bedroom.  Everyone ends up in there some how anyway.  So with this poor unsuspecting sweaty, muscular seaman in her place, she will need his help to make sure she doesn’t fall in the shower, and then to dry her off.  When he least expects it she will have him in a headlock with her thighs in a move that I call the “preying mantis” sealing his fate, and her deal.  Some people should be in institutions right?  So the take away from this, is…. If you trail run, don’t go with people named Andrea, and if they get hurt.  LEAVE THEM BEHIND.

Paulo - Fully Alive

So, one of my friends also has a blog..... you should go look at it too.

So, I get asked from time to time about my death, being in such a remote place with no connection really.  People are genuinely concerned that if I died no one would have no way of knowing about it.  

There is some truth to this concern, I mean really when you’re in a bush, and there is no connection to the outside world, it takes a day to get anywhere from the camp.  Most days you just sort of spend the day wrestling off cougars for a scrap of squirrel, or trying to fend of some frost bite to your butt cheeks because you are suffering from constipation. It’s easy to think that you could very well be forgotten.

What concerns me more about my situation is not my death, that’s already happened to me, so I’m pretty ready to contend with what it will be like when it happens again.  The concern I have is that maybe one day the people that know where I am and that offer me the crucial services that I need disappear on me.  See, I’m not worried about my disappearance because I’ve already sort of gone away and though there are people that know where to meet me one a semi-monthly basis.  The fear I have is; what do I do if one day they suddenly don’t show up, ever again?  What if they’re gone forever.  So, I try very hard to ensure that the people supporting me know how important they are to me, and how crucial they are to my wellbeing.  No different than the people that support you through your daily life that help you.  It’s easy to take them for granted. 

So, I’m sure you didn’t even read that full paragraph because you were caught up in the “Me dying part” of it.  Yes, it happened, had a funeral and everything.  So, not everyone gets the opportunity to die, and have people attend their funeral, and read a copy of the eulogy after but, i’m one of the lucky few.  

A few years back, I was off on an adventure, I like to go on adventures and seclude myself from society.  Back then I didn’t have a blog, I didn’t have a plan, or really a support network.  I did most things solo.  I mean, there were people that always had a general idea of where I was, but when I did my initial prep for my journey and camp zones, I messed up on the GPS coordinates for my routes through the wilderness.  Anyone that knows anything about GPS knows that it can locate you fairly accurately on the globe (provided you can see the sky typically.)  Well I went out and did my research for where I wanted to be, and what areas I wanted to visit.  I plotted the GPS for 3 of the 4 camps and wrote them down.  I didn’t notice, no one noticed.  I also revised my camp zones on the way home and didn’t update the coordinates.  So, essentially what I did was created a Geo Cache for myself, but the coordinates were wrong, so anyone that needed to come find me would be led to a tree in a clearing where my camp should be, but instead they were led to a waypoint on the way to where I actually wanted to camp.  

Needless to say, because I wasn’t blogging regularly, after about two weeks gone, something went wrong at home, and the people at home decided they wanted to come find me to bring me some supplies and get a list of other things I needed in the wilderness.  So they set off to my first camp point on the GPS plot, and I wasn’t there, there was no sign of me.  Remember, the first plot was a waypoint so all I really did was walked through that area, so I wouldn’t have left much of a trace that I had passed through.  Now, none of this is a very big deal to me, because I was aware that I was not lost, but the people who cared about me, had no clue where I was and they sometimes suffer from anxiety (we’ve medicated them since to ensure they don’t panic again)  So, my support system had a meltdown when they couldn’t find me, and it was all hands for an emergency meeting to find out what to do next.  I had left explicit instructions that no matter what, I would always leave information at my camp sites that I had moved on.  We used hobo symbols to communicate the information as it wasn’t exactly obvious to anyone what the intended message was. Again, they thought they found a camp, and there were no symbols.  They were prepared to call in the rangers and helicopters to search the area.  I was oblivious.  So, we met every two weeks at a camp location and there was no one at any of the camps, no sign whatsoever.  Because I was going to be gone for 6 months into the wild with not a lot of supply I just kept on trucking.  I had contingency plans in place that allowed for about 2 months of no supply delivery with the rations I stocked.  So I was sure I was safe and sound and that one missed rendezvous would not be the end of the journey.

I’ll be honest when the second rendezvous was missed I grew a bit more concerned.  I felt like maybe something could be wrong. Now I’m a good week hike into the wild, I wasn’t going to hike out a week just to check on things.  I began to think about what to do if I didn’t get supplies soon, and how to spread out the rations.  I wanted to achieve my 6 month goal of being out there.  It was possible, but I had to calculate every part.  If some calculation seemed off, I would easily digress out at one of the pass points that I had plotted for the adventure and seek support from whatever was nearby.  (Read: I’d call my mommy like a lil’ bitch and make her come get me)

So there I was blissfully ignorant to the chaos that was happening at home with search parties and posse’s going up and out onto my trail to find me.  My cousin took out his dirt bike and chased along the trail they thought I was on.  No luck.  After a bit of a rudimentary search, my family gathered both of my friends together (yes, I only have two.) and discussed the situation, and said that they had reason to believe that I had either disappeared intentionally, or had been eaten by a bear.  They were searching for my gear, as confirmation of my demise.  

About 3 months after I left, my family was quite at a loss for my disappearance, and there was a small memorial celebration for me held with family and the two friends, people took turns sharing stories about me, and crying together.  Meanwhile, I was taking one of the duress trails out of my location, and quite pissed that my support system had abandoned me in the bush with no support. I was making my way home on my own.  Being the stubborn ass that I am, I didn’t bother calling mommy like a lil’ bitch.  Instead, I hitched a ride once I made it to the main road and started the journey towards the family home about 2 hours away.   I hitched a ride with a stranger, they shared about the book they were writing.  It was something about cliches in life, and gods little miracles.  I so didn’t have enough fucks left for this broad who was nattering on about nonsense.  I was angry about my situation to some extend, and it was exacerbated by this woman’s voice and her tales of her book.  Referring to it as a book about “God’s little miracles” made me not want to probe into anything with her.  I had been in the bush for 3 months, I would have humped a papaya by this point, so she was pretty obnoxious to have this effect on me. Also, I was sure she was a fond believer in our lord and saviour, which I didn’t have the stomach for at this point either.  So, I avoided conversation at all cost, and that was easy enough to do because I’m great at pretending to be asleep.  SUCCESS!!!!

Lucky for me, this lady was going right past my house (well within a few blocks, because I really didn’t want her to know where I actually lived.)  I was home before I knew it.  Still oblivious to what was going on in the front of the house, I went into the kitchen through the back door.  I’m a fan of using the back door, my mom is super anal about people coming in through the front door when they’re dirty.  I had left my gear out in the yard, and came in to the house, there was sandwich trays all over the kitchen, with cold cuts, and cheese.  CHEESE…. I hadn’t had cheese since I left.  I ate about 65 cubes of cheese, well I don’t think what I did was called eating, it was more like what a snake does with a mouse.  As I was choking down the cubes of cheese, I heard my mom telling the most embarrassing wedding story she could possibly think of in the other room, and it was about me.  I was mortified that she was telling the story about when I was a teenager and trying to learn about my sexual being.  (Read: Masturbation)  Now, all I heard through the door was, “Paulo was standing there with it in his hand, and asked me why he saw the people on TV shaking it like they were trying to wake it up…… and then he began to shake it…. and his face went red, and he said, Ohhhhhh…. nevermind mom, I think I understand….” Then, what I heard next was a few too many people laughing at once…. I don’t know who the fuck she was telling this story to, but I was going to get in there and defend my reputation.  I shovelled a handful of cheese into my mouth and burst through the swinging doors that joined the Kitchen and the Living room.  

In the living room were some of those super uncomfortable chairs, that family bring out when relatives that you don’t really like get invited for holiday dinners and they sit at the folding table that you’re certain will collapse at any moment. In those chairs were aunts, uncles, cousins, my first date, my two friends, and my family.  I muttered through the cheese that was still in my mouth; “you make it sound like I was whacking off in front of you…..”  There was a simultaneous gasp from everyone in the room.  Remember, I’m still oblivious to whats going on, I stink like a mixture of coconut car freshener from the crazy girls car, pine needles, and dirt, mostly dirt.  I’m standing there pissed at my mom for telling all these people this story, and she begins to cry.  I thought, was I too mean in the way I said that? Nope, pretty sure I wasn’t.  Then the next thing I knew I was being hugged, but everyone.  I tried to shake them off, and told them to get the fuck off of me.  I stunk, and didn’t want to be mauled.  After telling my family to get the fuck off of me, my dad back handed me across the face, and said; “Don’t you dare talk to your family with those words at a funeral…”  I looked him in the eye, and said, “why didn’t you come get me if someone died?”  I still hadn’t gotten it.  He looked at me and then at my mom, then I looked at them, “Oh fuck!” I said as I realized that these drama queens were having a funeral for me.  My family is screwed up, I thought.  I had to think quickly and carefully about what I was about to say next.  These people were grieving for my sorry ass, and here I was walking into the middle of a memorial for myself and bitching at them.  I couldn’t think of anything, so I just said, “I smell like a Parisienne Whore House…. I’m going to go shower!”  I darted up the stairs, ripped my clothes off and got into the shower.  

After the shower, I came down and apologized to everyone for the interruption.  They told me that they had come looking for me and couldn’t find me or any trace of me, and because I wasn’t legally dead, and some bullshit, they had a small memorial for me.  In my typical dumb luck with timing, I walked in on the middle of it.  If I would have grabbed a motel room with my hitch hiking lady friend, I would have missed it all.  

My friends gave me copies of the nice things, and not so nice things, they had said about me.  I smiled, and cried a little bit.  I loved all of these crazy dramatic asses.  They were my support system.  A few months later as I went through my GPS tracks I realized where I had made the error in my coordinates, and together my support system and I came up with a new system for me, which is why I write these insane blog posts from time to time. 

—-Paulo, fully alive. 

Dubious, studious, and just generally over it.

So, we talked about Pink, Black Hat and Sparkles.  Fantastic story.  Pretty Standard.

I've been hauled up in the woods for a few years now.  I like the solitude, it keeps me focused on the most important thing to me.  Me.

Pink, Black Hat, and Sparkles.... Yes they're actual fucking people!

So let me begin by saying how nice it is to have toilet paper in the woods. That's really a complete concept in itself, and seeing as we are well on our way to wiping away some shit stains, I feel the need to share with you some fascinating social interactions that I bore witness to recently.

From time to time, I get tired of the quiet, and find myself in a club where the music is loud, and the corner is dark.  I enjoy gay bars, because really where else would a bush man in flannel fit in but with a group of women who are dressing the same.  Well in this case, I wasn't so lucky as to find my flannel loving sisters, so I stuck out like a bit of a sore thumb.  So this bar was one of those "integrated" places where all of the gays are welcome and all of their friends are welcome, so really.  It was a bar... because all bars should be like that.  Well, except the saloons that you see in the old west that aren't like that.  (and by old west, I mean hick towns.)

So, back to the bar...  When I am out in public I enjoy an activity that I refer to as "Perching."  Perching involves getting yourself elevated above others on a step, or in a mezzanine or somewhere that you can "perch" and monitor the goings on of the evening.  I perch at every opportunity I get, in shopping malls, restaurants, and most frequently in clubs.  It's usually very difficult to get into VIP sections which overlook the crowd, but nothing a quick gummer or some chloroform can't fix. (Yes, I've been arrested once or twice...)

So, I find the perfect spot at this club I was visiting, I have a view of an entire dance floor, and the socializing occurs directly below me one floor down.  This is perfect, I don't want to hear the conversations, I want to make them up as I think they are happening in my head based on what is happening in front of me.  Much more entertaining that way.

Now, if you haven't been to many gay clubs, you will realize that no one worth knowing is ever found in one before 12am.  It's like you can't be there before midnight (unless its New Years) I think this is because by midnight all the responsible boring people who work, or would rather sleep than watch irresponsible chemically charged homosexuals flutter around have left and are safe in their beds.  Which means the real party can start now that nan' and pap's are gone.

So, obviously it's about 10:30pm and I'm perched, overlooking a virtually empty dance floor save the 3 people dancing it up like no one was watching.  I enjoy their spirit and courage, and realized that I too have that same level of courage when my blood alcohol content is at parity with theirs, so no harm no foul.  They want to maximize the fun, who can blame them.  I wish more people would go out this early, so I don't have to line up after last call at a pizza, chicken, or waffle house with all the rest of the folks.  Really, its a matter of efficiency for me.

I'm spying these three dancers, one of them I call "Pink" as a result of the colour of his shirt.  He was what I would refer to as someone who may not fully understand fashion on account of the hiking shoes he was wearing and plodding around the dance floor with.  (Then I remembered, I was wearing flannel and a pair of hiking boots, I really do need to stop raising the bar on everyone.)  Pink was dancing, there was a female with him, she shall be the "Pink Hag" they were having fun, through their eyes I am sure they felt that they were the only people in the room, and they were living it up.  We all need to learn how to do that without inhibition.  (I'm sure all the people in this story are fantastic people, as all are, so, keep in mind, the fact that these people were drunk, dancing, or dressed poorly is not the story, I'm just painting a picture for you.)  So, my eyes leave Pink and Hag for a few seconds and I scan the room.

Black Hat was a fairly attractive fella that I spied on my way up to the perching area.  He made very nervous and brief eye contact with me as he leaned against the wall in a suave manner.  I walked by, found my perch, and on scanning the room caught up to him leaning against the opposing wall where he had a better 180.  I appreciated that he had a fine tuned understanding of the concept of "Location, Location, Location!" when it came to self marketing in a gay club.  His game wasn't new.  I could nearly hear him screaming "NOTICE ME!" in his subconscious as he stood there waiting for someone to approach and have a conversation with him.  Again, kudos for his ability to get out there on his own and work at meeting folks.  That's something that takes a lot of courage and confidence so we should appreciate that for just a moment.  It wasn't long before Black Hat swept the room with his eyes and caught a glimpse of Pink and Hag out on the floor moving it up.  He watched briefly and then I saw him start to make a move in the general area.  This was when I realized that my earlier instinct to keep walking was sound, he was tanked and the struggle was real to get coordinated.  He moved across the dance floor and like a baby fawn found his footing and became more sure of himself.  He walked right up to Pink and they began to dance.  It was sweet, balzy and I was jealous.  I wanted that courage.  Pink and Black and Hag danced around and slowly the evening moved along. With every change in music they got tighter and tighter.  I noticed a direct correlation between their invasion of personal space and the ousting of Hag from the trio.  Fairly standard.  It wasn't much longer before they were inspecting each other to confirm or disappoint their suspicions and hopes.  Hag left the scene and returned a bit later.  They continued to partially include her, but for the most part they were working on some other plans.  I decided that they should get more acquainted in privacy on the dance floor and scanned the floor for other noteworthy observations.

Low and behold, Sparkles and the Sparkles Hag were out dancing by this point.  I didn't take much note of Sparkles (named because of his Shirt) initially, and his Hag had the matching pants.  It was almost as though they changed shirts in the washroom to see if anyone noticed. I sure did!  Sparkles and Sparkles Hag were out dancing minding their own business.  It seemed pretty standard, then almost like a venus fly trap.  I looked away for a second and glanced back and Sparkles had some passerby lip locked.  Where the fuck did he come from?  I glanced away and back, and it was done.  Where the fuck did he go?  I don't think I could have picked him out of the crowd if my life depended on it. So, I will admit, I judged.  Sparkles is a tart!  So Sparkle Tart as I will call him now, must have caught a glimpse of Pink's bright shirt.  It seemed as though the sights were narrowed in on him and that something was about to go down.  Sparkle Tart and Hag were moving around the floor and dancing in close proximity of Pink and Black Hat who were still dancing together.  Sparkles wanted someone to notice him, that part was clear.  It wasn't long before Sparkles Hag was pushed out and a new trio was formed with Sparkles, Pink, and Black Hat.  Seemed like this may have been more that what Black Hat had bargained for, but he didn't seem to be too concerned. It wasn't long before Sparkles had full control of the situation like a pro.  Having already lip locked an innocent passerby it wasn't long before I glanced away and back to see Pink and Hag were gone from the scene, Sparkles had a tongue in his throat, and Black hat had ahold of Sparkles by the hair in a sorta passionate way. (Gasp!!! You don't touch a twinks hair!)

I didn't pay too close of attention to anything further, until Pink returned to the scene with Hag.  From the looks of things they had formulated a interception plan.  Black Hat was clearly torn.  On one hand he had a pretty sure thing, on the other, he had another pretty sure thing.  I can only imagine how the planning by Pink and Hag went, that would have been a conversation I would have loved to have been in on. I wasn't so I'll make it up.

Pink:  Did you see that?
Hag:  Yeah! You had him first and he just moved it, what a slut!
Pink:  I know, what do I do?
Hag:  Let's go dance again, you're way hotter than him, he will see that.
Pink:  Can you just spill your drink on him so he has to leave?
Hag:  Maybe.

Hag and Pink are back on the floor, Pink moves in closer to Black Hat, and they dance a bit.  It was cute to watch the two fight over a complete stranger.  As soon as Pink got too close, Sparkles physically pushed him away and that was that.  It was like you saw the energy drain from Pink and he lost a bit of his will to dance.  He wasn't as in to it anymore, and he felt hurt that Black Hat was interested in him first, and Sparkles came along and stole him.

By this point, I had decided that I too would go dance it up, I hit the floor, making sure I kept my distance from the three of them.  I wasn't interested in being collateral damage or validation from someone in their moment of rejection.  After about half an hour of dancing I was soaked from sweat, and needed to cool down.  I went out doors, it was nearly 2 am by this point.  While out doors, I saw the conclusion to the evenings events unfold.  Black Hat and Sparkles leaving the club and heading off into the evening.  I was somewhat sad.  Sparkles had become the antagonist in this story and I wanted the good guy to win this one.  I wanted Pink to be the one he chose.  No such luck.  I decided that my mood was bummed from this reminder that the world ins't fair and that the nice guy sometimes has to finish last.  I went back in to collect some things, and say a few farewells.  On the way out the door, I saw a sad and sullen Pink leaning against the wall waiting for what I can only imagine is Hag to be ready to go home.  His will had been broken and the night was a disappointment.  I sympathized with him, as I too know what that kind of rejection feels like, It wasn't a strong enough feeling for me to talk to him.  I knew better. Sometimes, you have to let the low hanging fruit touch the ground, it's not always good for eating.  As I left, and spoke to my driver about the evening, I confessed that Pink would have been a very easy catch.  Fish in a barrel so to speak.  The affirmed that had I done such a thing, they would have put me in a barrel and let me go over the falls.  I guess it's good to have friends?