An excerpt from chapter four of Finding Natalie. Link to the get the book from CreateSpace. Chapter four is where I shifted to writing TO Natalie whereas the first three chapters were from other’s perspectives. Finding Natalie is the first book in the Fountains of Yesterday series.
CHAPTER FOUR – Fuck it… It Does(n’t) Matter!
Natalie, I wanted to write this entire book from your perspective, though fell off course with the second and third chapters. The first chapter was an attempt to write from your perspective, the second from others, the third was intended to not be directed from myself, though now beginning the fourth, I (Rob) shall write directly from my perspective, though not necessarily to you. This chapter was started near 8 pm on May 27th, 2013. I go to get a Coke and some water, will set a deck of smokes near the computer and go balls at it…….
Okay… I have been living in depravity. I have been thinking sometimes that I’m helpful or imperative for the lives of others. I have been wasting my life away with cigarettes, I’ve squandered money and other resources away on myself and other people, and I have been harsh and debase with a lack of self-control. For years I have been chasing dreams that are outlandish and out of reach, and I too have been living a hedonistic lifestyle. I’ve tried (unsuccessfully) to gain the favor of some people (including yourself) and also have not lived an honorable life. I have been untrue and spiteful… I have been slanderous and deceitful.
While I’ve learned that I should not trust people, I too must face consequences for my just and true actions. Although I’ve been told that people should not live in fear and trust others, I do agree with this; I have been used, abused, and also believe that people have betrayed me. I cannot claim to know what the situation is, though I too believe that it will be a good one. My father (and grandfather) had given the advice to never lend or borrow, and again I found myself in a situation that I had brought on myself. I’m not talking about the many thousands I owe to the bank, yet rather of the small loans to others to help them out. I seem to think that lending money and/or cards is a way to help, though it fucked me again. I should have learned from Edward Street to never lend people money, though my trust and faith had led me astray.
I also don’t think you know you trust me. Many years ago my opinions and intents with you were much different. Back then I thought I ‘needed’ you and would be incomplete on my own. I then thought that a load of shit. I can’t claim to even think that it’s a good idea to meet you as I’ve been living a shitty life with little amounts of honor and respect. As I wrote you now (May 2013) I had the camera on my building’s doors ready for an intrusion. A ‘friend’ I lent money to was acting very desperate and I was in fear. For those of you who are NOT Natalie, please ensure you never lend or borrow from people. If you lend, it’s harder for a person to pay back a dead person, and if you borrow, some people are blood hungry to get their money back. Even though I don’t do drugs and am not selling them like I used to, I had again trusted someone that I should never have trusted in the first place. If you think something or someone is a bad idea, even if you feel the twinge of un-trust, don’t be fooled into giving them ANYTHING!
Sometimes and by some people, I have been told that we should trust others and be vulnerable. Is it worth sitting at home in fear that someone wants to break in your door?! Money (and the want of it) does strange, foul, and awful shit to people. Some have called me paranoid, yet the number of times I’ve trusted and then been betrayed for the want of something I have has inclined me to think that other’s should not always be trusted. You too, Natalie, should know of this. How many times has somebody wanted, or even worse yet, felt entitled to have something of yours purely on the basis that they don’t have what you have, and want it for themselves? If I had never blindly (or foolishly) trusted some people with allowing them to owe me money, I would have had a far less chance of a critical situation.
The situation (from my belief) was due to drugs and the want of them. I was pissed off, angry, and just fucking aggravated by the fact of some people wanting things that I have for themselves! I recall Albert getting pissed off since I didn’t give him (a relative stranger) a car ride purely on the notion that I had a car and he did not. I was pissed off at once again helping someone and giving them leeway and trust, to only then be sitting at home fearing the consequence of me not giving them more! I also go on arguing the other point of being selfless and helping anyone and everyone. Earlier today I found myself saying that I want to spend my days helping people in small ways with those who’ll reciprocate and help me in return. In the May 2013 situation, I was wondering “Who the fuck would ever do that?!!?”
(In August 2016, I know there are some!!)
I’ve gotten pissed off and complained about small things like people not even saying hello and going to “Do you have this card or that card?” and then had felt guilt for complaining about it. I was a bit pissed off that some of society has said “Don’t complain” when there is some serious shit to complain about! When I even start to catch myself being negative or going to complain, I sometimes feel a twinge of guilt because of being told to not complain. For this chapter, though (and noted maybe too that few will ever read it) I’m going to go full on “fuck what society says” and get some shit out of my system. (I also note I may use some language and words that I too deem not appropriate).
(Keep in mind I let the next six paragraphs stand as how they were written on May 27th, 2013)
What is the point of me trying to help people? Note that… ‘trying’. I want to help people, I don’t know who to trust, and I too note that way too many times I’ve helped people that just use and abuse. I also don’t want to go on positive stories now as it would minimize myself. I remember getting betrayed by Jessica and Emma and the other people doing meth in my home when living on Marlborough. They stole $200 out of my account and got me evicted. Stupid fucking Rob for letting meth users live in his home when he was out at work. Fuck me for not finding a real job and pissing away my life. Lending money to the people upstairs at Edward Street to only later find myself shivering in freight with the phone in hand ready to call 911. Now I’m at home because I lent money to a friend and bought cards and a monitor from them. Without the monitor, I wouldn’t be able to write this, though I sure as fuck could live well enough without feeling that they’re wanting to rob my home because they have such a thirst for money.
I bought a monitor and cards from them today for $200 and then later they’re trying to smink more money from me. The same person I think was lying to me about other stuff and right now I regret ever giving them a thing. I’m just fucking tired of people using the shit out of me. Do I even have a fucking clue how to live otherwise!?!?!?
Then, regarding you Natalie, there’s no reason that we should ever even meet. I have squandered my life away on open thoughts and empty dreams and you’re life is good, solid, and whole on its own. I’m just a stupid kid who fell in love and has no idea how to get his own life on a decent track, let alone knowing how to be a benefit to you. You’ve got all you need, and it doesn’t matter what I think. My Mom is right that I’ve got to sort out my life, and I also note I’ve done shit all to form and develop a good and respectful life. I’ve been extremely irresponsible, have been living in depravity and filth, and no matter what anyone else says, they still don’t have a clue how much I’ve thought or dreamt about you.
When I was in the hospital the first time in 1999, I thought you were in the delivery room birthing our twins. At SFU, I remember crying myself to sleep because you never phoned before I was in the hospital. I know that I obsessed and focused on you and deluded myself thinking that you were the answer for my life. I now, when writing, still think of your spirit and note that you are not here and that I soul-stalked you. I forced the connection… if there is one. If there is a connection between you and me it’s because a drugged out kid made you the focus of his small irrational useless world because he was lonely as shit and had no one else to love. I still want to meet you, THOUGH I DON’T DESERVE IT!
The idea of this book was to write to you, Natalie, and lure you into meeting me. Not worth it. I’ve already fucked with the balance and (like my life) must repurpose it to a different end. The slight notion of getting this book to you now is just the somber story of one kid who refuses to give up, and a message to others to bring them hope, advice, and rational thought. The original book idea I had was ‘Beautiful Do You Mind’ and was meant as a way for the reader to play and interact with reality. Now I guess I keep writing the book as a mere way to do something with my life. Near 14 ½ thousand words written for a poetic notion of one kid meeting his gal. Then my next irrational thought is still to finish the book in the chance that one person will gain value, and I don’t know who it is.
If you do find yourself reading this, please let it be known that there are some people who want to help and not just fuck the planet just to get what they want or think they need.
(And in 2016, I know we are to keep finding more of them!!)
When I have my child (if/when) I’ve got some ideas about how to raise him or her. One idea is to help the child grow through the first few years of life up to the point of her or him having some sort of cogniscient idea/impression of self. Rules (I think) are very important, though they should hopefully not be so limiting, yet rather, in this idea, should be guidelines formed between parent and child.
I want to have a daughter named Aeris. The name of the child is from Final Fantasy VII and if/when I find my gal and settle down, if we have a girl, I will not budge on this name. The ideas I have for Aeris are, at this point, a few, and rules are part of it. What I want to do is form rules WITH Aeris, not FOR Aeris.
When Aeris is old enough to talk and think with others, I want to start a book/list of rules that she and I and her Mom make up. I want Aeris to help form the rules in agreement with her and I and her Mom so that they’re rules that she knows and has approved/accepted. Some rules near the beginning might be basic, though I want Aeris to form her behaviors to be acceptable in her own, and not just our family’s eyes. I don’t like telling people what to do, and I also value self-accountability. By Aeris agreeing on rules, consequences will be known and set WITH and by her and not just FOR her. Some parents make all the rules, and sometimes the kids don’t like those rules. If Aeris has understood and forms rules that she agrees to abide by, it keeps her fully part of the equation
I also want to journal the process of life with my child(ren). I had started a journal two years ago with the intent to give the journal to my wife when we got married. That journal has since fizzled, since the one that I was hoping to marry was Dana Russ. I had a dream to hook up with Dana and go to the 2014 Olympics with her and conceive a child. Obviously, the plan didn’t go through as Dana rejected me and we never formed a relationship. I have had many dreams that have fizzled, and I blame myself since I’ve been told that people shape, mold, and develop their own dreams. I also recall believing that others were building my dreams in secret. Christmas 2010-2011 I wandered around Darling Harbor in Sydney anticipating a meeting, and during other Christmas’ before then was convinced that a meeting with you was to be held Christmas morning. I’ve been a delusional sack of shit for most of my life and it goes back to how I still seem to go on waiting for my life to happen without seeding a full and proper amount of effort.
I remember 2002 when I moved to Chilliwack. For 2 ½ years I lived at a group home where I had so few responsibilities. We had $85 spending money a month, though all food, shelter, and bills were covered. It’s almost like my glory days. Dan Delleman, Cory Ball, and Craig Lawlor were my best friends and it was great. We’d go fishing at Island 22 or swimming in the gravel pond. We’d drink Cokes and have smokes and talk and joke on the patios. 2 ½ years with so few responsibilities.
When I was 15 years old I got my first job (other than flyers and papers) at Wendy’s and I kept that job full through high-school. I had a car, I had some friends, and I could do most anything. We’d go to play laser tag, hang out at friend’s houses, or play video games (Super Nintendo etc). Again a great time in my life.
When I moved out of Kyeta Place (the group home) I was in music making mode. I recorded and produced songs, I had a job at a mushroom barn, I had Winks and Boots. Within a year of leaving Kyeta, I had my job with Nedco/Lite-Scape. I kept that job for almost four years and was earning $2000 or so after taxes a month. In April 2009 I was let go. I got a job (again) with Wendy’s in June 2009 and worked there for 3 years. Two stints at Stream and 6 months as a dishwasher later, here I am.
I have gone to school for some courses. I have maintained that I’ve kept my apartment and car. I have stayed alive (no fucking idea how). And now again I’m stuck. Not enough money, a shitload of debt, and no fucking idea how to sitch out of it.
And then there’s this book. Random natterings that were meant to be given to my dream girl. And here I sit again at home alone with a cigarette and no idea what to do.
Dreams of Natalie; irrational. Hopes for the future; the Glass House. Plans to sitch into the future; no fucking clue. Yet still, here I am alive. Thank you. Amen.
CHAPTER 4.5 – What I think does matter….
I believe that I do have value. That seems like a stupid statement, though. If I think that I could help someone that it may show that I think I’m in a higher position than them. Something I agree with that I read was “Everyone is our superior in one way or another.” I then am inclined to list off a bunch of people and how they’re my superior. Then there’s the notion of God (which would piss some people off for calling God a notion). There is intrinsic value of noble intent, though that doesn’t always mean a good result will occur, and again calling one’s intent ‘noble’ has an arrogant tone to it.
I want to live, love, and thrive. The lyrics drive forward that I’ve heard from the words on the page and the note that some want to rip me out like a sprout from the soil. Some rage boils the blood while others want me to hit the ground with a solid thud. Mindsound is not your bud because of the ways that people are harsh and should not be. The irony is my own harshness while the Marsh Flats were in the bank and not in the mess of my home. They say when in Rome, though here I am and not there like a gem. The hem of the patchwork quilt helps tilt the machine and let the sounds be seen to radiate from this side of heaven’s gate.
I find that there is value and that I must wait and curate the flow and how I want many to know the things that I do without having to push it on us, let alone force the course of how then will be now. A farmer uses Oxen to pull the bus while somehow there are the wares that others sell that let the correct mix of my soul, spirit, and heart gel.
Full well a deep irenic spell that shall let some tell the story of how the quarry of my mind finds players (and prayers) entwined like Tooth and Nail. To bring my lovestone and Aeris to the pale facts of how the tracts that I have been bound within find that I do shed my fear and sin. Friends to become close like kin. I am living….. and glad for it
And then another irresponsible choice made at 2:01 am on June 26th, 2013. At that point, I was needing to sleep to wake up and get a real job. Instead, I found myself on the computer writing again. I’d used Kevin as an excuse to stay up late and also wanted to sleep to be responsible and search for work the next day.
I also found that I’m exhausted and tired and wanting to stay awake all night with the irrelevant idea of writing to you, even though my Dad has said to never think of you! You are my lovestone, even though you are not to be ‘owned’ by anyone. I don’t know who you are, how we can (or if we will) ever meet, and I don’t want to label you as my lovestone as you’re a person that is far out of my league.
The tear of wanting to do something with my life and falling into the creative process of writing for someone I’ve never known. Then my keys push past the point of writing rhymes and I should climb into bed for sleep. I’m exhausted of being without knowing my gal, without my cats, and without a life that I would be glad and proud to share. I will go to sleep now, though want to share that although no one there, the air is filled with smoke, and I am. (The next paragraph probably won’t be written for another couple weeks, though to this book I shall return).