A New Chapter

It’s weird, looking at my life anyway – all the energy of life leading up to that moment, all the chaos and confusion and drama building to that climactic moment – my brother’s accidental death. As if to wake me up and shake me hard – saying all the other shit really doesn’t matter. I mean to say, it really put everything back in perspective. What is important in life, how to treat people – how to love. How to forgive people, and give second chances, third and so on and so on, until – until love and friendship is mastered.

A new chapter, a good one I hope. Now’s the time when its proven true, what they say about – good coming after so much bad – life turning around for the better. That God uses the bad of life and turns it around for good. That somehow I or others can benefit from this – and later on down the road, I know they will. I know I will. I intend to write much about it. About everything about Justin and surrounding that night and just… Yeah it will be ongoing but it March 31st 12:14 am.

It’s defiantly a turn of a page, a new chapter, however long or short they may be. Lately it seems my story has quacked, the pace lively with action and drama. Good and bad, bad then good and then more bad and then horrible – to great. Life is interesting. Always is.

Here I am back in Gold River B.C, writing my first real journal entry since back in December. Lots has changed since even just then; in just 5 month, under half a year. To think I came out here to simply get away from my life in the city, to get away from drugs and old habits and stale relationships. Leaving behind my son.  It was a new chapter back in November of 2010 when that took place, It was a new chapter from December 22nd till February 2nd 2011, when I came to Gold river for the first time After 8 years. I detailed a bit of that in my post called “Old Man”. A new chapter started and ended a month later, from February to the start of March – when I lived with Saku in Campbell River. (an interesting little ride) And yet another one, when I got my own place – again – in Campbell river.

Things were going pretty good all in all. Since I came out to Gold River, prior to that, it was hard living on the farm. I met a lot of people I never knew here in Gold River. Lots of them friends of my brother. I didn’t mind. They all seem like alright people, even found one of them to be quite a good friend, who became a girlfriend, for a short time.  That chapter ended after a few months, turn a page and Justin passes.

will be good.  I just know, Justin did not die for no reason. There was much purpose to it – not that it was on purpose but there is meaning there. Thick and layered meaning. Much to be brought to ones attention. Something to get into another time though.

Yeah, it’s defiantly time for a turn around, though even if luck or faith and good favour from above is on my side – I still do need to do my part, and figure out what the hell I am supposed to do with my life. I need to raise my head up – and as hard as it is, not be depressed or sink into the darkness. It is there, I know it is, ever looming, ominous and brooding.

But if I did – then so would others. I need to be strong, and I will be, not just cause I can say I can be or cause I feel I should be – or cause it’s what Justin wants – not even because people are keeping an eye on me – rather simply because – I can be. Because I am. I am strong. I’ve been well adapted to pain and loss long before this, no never of this magnitude – losing Justin is by far the worst and to tell you the honest truth, part of me knows the full magnitude of it has not set in yet. I know this cause even though I miss him, even though we all miss him – we have yet to really really miss him, those days will be hard.

I am happy for good family and close friends at this time. They are keeping me busy, I have lots of people to visit with, I am meeting all kinds of new friends, friends of Justin’s and all around just embracing love in any way I can. I am honestly trying to be patient with people and be kinder and all that – while at the same time, fighting the urge to sometimes snap (and I have). Shits fucked up. So yeah, let’s hope it gets better.

I am hopeful though. I am. I have some goals, I think. I hope I don’t procrastinate – anymore than I already have. I want to get my learners. That shouldn’t be too hard. Start with that, maybe get another part time job during the day and work as many hours as I can at Wendy’s in the evenings. (I fucking hate my job) The job is just bleh. Tasteless. Degrading. But it’s easy and its money and sometimes it can be entreating as hell. Sometimes I work with good people and a good crew, and sometimes it’s pretty awesome and I do like it – but still the job itself sucks.  Then again, if they paid me like even 10 bucks an hour, I might be a bit more “enthusiastic”.

I don’t know. There’s gota be more than just work and a learners though, a little more than the little bit of love I do get. I don’t know – what is the bigger picture? Where can now go, should I be thinking about the future? And if so in what way? I mean there has to be some place grand for me, something good, something that I’m meant to walk into.  Then again maybe life kicks me in the ass and it just gets harder? It can do that – God can do that. Ha ha. That’s a joke, but I hope, or should think that I am in okay standings with God.

I’ve done some praying since Justin’s death, the day of his remembrance, I broke down and cried so hard on the bridge. Began to pray and try to listen; I could hear Justin. He was speaking to me and encouraging me. It was pretty raw and intense. Since then, I’ve been more mindful of my heart and its desires and the probable way to go about things. BUT there’s so much to do – and it can’t all be done at once. One way or the other, life will eventually work itself out. Let’s hope it’s for the better.

Cheers, here’s to new chapters.

Ron Bergquist, May 31st 2011


Acidic Knight – 05/13/11

Friday The 13th, May 2011- till Saturday morning.

You knew this would happen eventually


This brings me back (yeah that’s how I’ll start) To say that it honestly brings me back to a time. A time I’ve honestly not had in a long time. A time when drugs were still wreckless, wild demons to be tamed by mind and body.  (that’s fucking powerful ) It’s been sometime since I’ve been this high.  How to put “this high” into scope. Hmm. As in drugs long since done, the sun is up – I’m still awake rocking “A Perfect Circle, tripping balls so bad I have to write for fear that I might go insane. (I am already quite convinced I am insane, we all know this) To convince you more, I’ll indulge myself and tell you that prior to writing this I was talking to myself in the mirror. It was quite amusing. I could see myself in my eye, looking back at me. It was really quite something, I’ve never seen my reflection on my iris before.

This is why you never leave your friends alone when they do drugs. Hah hah. You end up going mad, by yourself, gibbering away, listening to your favorite tunes. And if you’re me, write. That’s it. Its all about the writing. Like how I used back when I used to really do these kinds of things. Do drugs all night, think about life and trip balls over the meaning of everything. Then write. Always feeling elated afterward. This is a most peaceful and serene thing. And so simple.

This drug, this acid. This venomous  mind fuck, has taken me back to a place and time where drugs just totally fucking blew my mind. It’s hard to believe but it happened. AGAIN! I mean. I’ve long stopped seeking out this, this feeling or this high, this mechanical euphoria – but somehow have stumbled upon it. I mean I guess not really stumbled so much as always intended to do but never had a chance to do, till now, kinda thing. (takes breath, seriously. Serious.)

Thanks to a friend, I’ve happened upon my first acid trip. One tab of … what ever the fuck it was…  i don’t recall a name, just that it was a little piece of paper and a funny cartoon. But damn. What a potent piece of paper. (never minding the fact that there were a few lines to be taken up) It is roughly 8:30 am. Saturday morning, um… May…14… i think. (That’s my guess without looking.) I started this at 11:45 pm Friday night. Thats right. Its Saturday. Last night was Friday the thirteenth. Coming up 9 hours.

I wonder how the hell that other kid is. Hah hah. I mean if I’m this wired, he had to be wired. I can’t help but laugh and think he has to go to a lunch. I bet you he never got any sleep. And if he did, he had to force himself. HAHAHAH. Shut out this high? YEAH RIGHT. ITS BEEN EXCELLENT! I cannot describe the state of enjoyment I am in right now. Hahah. I am happy at the fact that for once I have 2 days off in a row, starting today. I don’t work till Monday.  In other words, I had no holds bared with acid and coke. I knew what I was in for man, and that’s perfect, cause – who the hell was I trying to kid, falling asleep at like 5 or 6 am… trying so hard to sleep. HAHAHA. Finally I got sick of it and was like “i need a smoke”. Finally get out of bed and realize I’m not at all tired, In fact, I’m rather awake, in fact, IM RATHER HIGH.

And that’s how it all began. Me looking in the mirror. At my eye. Staring at me, in which, I could see myself looking at me…. Or something.

In any event, I suppose I should give care to whomever reads this; be it children, or even one day, my child. I am well experienced at managing a trip of psychological magnitude.  I know how to get really high and do it safely. Because I was first well advised and educated on what I was taking and how it affected my brain, body, motor functions… ect. In any event, I’ve done this enough times, in a safe manner, with friends who watched me, as to know my own limits and know what was tooooo much. And right now… I am experience quite the overhaul on an excellent acid trip. In other words, I know I am safe and sound and am simply kicking it – blasting tunes and writing. Cause it’s peaceful. And simple.

More over enjoying is the fact that it was connected through a friend.  Sharing the wealth, speaking figuratively. So free for me which means more enjoyment, added to the fact I don’t have to try and sleep and get up and go somewhere. Though I am mindful now, that if i choose to go anywhere, some sleep or rest may be advised. I feel… Wired still. My eyes are heavy and kinda hurt from straining to see my screen. I should make the font bigger. Or zoom in. Or something.  Yeah, if I go anywhere. I’ll look like a spook. This wide EYED alien look, big goofy grin, guy tweaking to every sound and person walking by.

Fuck public. Right now. I gots my music and my laptop and this piece of writing. Oh electronic, mechanical joy. Why is it you always end up being my enduring friend who knows how to listen and take this all in. It’s funny. I’ve long since left behind friends of that calibre.. and quality, that they could draw all of this out of me, my thoughts. My innards. My soul.  And truly connect, about life and love and hate and death and romance, and good and evil. While enjoying good music. It’s been to long since I’ve been truly keenly, tested intellectually.

Its sad. I find myself, growing more and more pissed off. I find myself very unhappy with the fact that I am steadily making myself stressed out by…. trying to get somewhere all too fast.  Yeah, I know I have been through some shit,  I can say I have grabbed life by the balls, and fucking lived it. I have man. I’ve had some experiences. Shit worthy of a book. The kinda stuff you read and think, “that’s stranger than fiction” but sure enough, it’s just another experience from my life. Oh man Could I tell stories. Hah. Hah. Any anyone who knows, me knows I can. Well, I am a writer, after all. The long winded writer who ever so elegantly exasperates his reader by never actually making the point – then yammers on some more till he finally remembers what it was he was trying to say…

I am well aware of my own being. My accomplishments and downfalls. And needless to say, (a lot of people are fucking morons, seriously. Serious.)  I know my measure as a man. I know my measure can out measure most any man I meet. In terms of Age and similar life style. I’ll put those boundaries on saying something so bold and out there. I mean, even I have my teachers and my advisers. My elders and those who have helped me get here. Those who have taught me my lessons, about life, about love – about what matters.  And I, me, myself and I, have gone out into the world, wild and wreck less and tamed this manner of man before you now. I am Ron Bergquist. Recently 25, and still kicking it hard – apparently.  But not for much longer, and I know that. That’s why this is the last great trip like this. Errrm… I know my shit and when it comes down to it. I’m over qualified. And it irks me. Knowing that. And looking outward. Feeling trapped in this box. In these stupid fucking social boxes; work and the pretense of friendships. I am better and over qualified.

I long stopped looking for mates that were my equals. I bested them at everything they did. Even those whom I used to just chill with, and do drugs with all the time – in the end, I was the bigger druggie. Hah hah. No no no. That’s not what im trying to say. I’ve long stopped giving life my all. It’s just most often, than not, shit doesn’t call me to give it my all. What does that say? What should I be doing? I need a plan. Like school or – what school though? What courses? Better friends?-  Hm I have thought about this. I need to get back to a sphere of influence where there are people that would be intellectually inclined. I’d be in a place I’d feel I fit. I’d have a reason to give a shit. To be sober. To try my best to be the best of all I can be. Cause you know what? I know that even half my wit, out does the average person around me. I know this cause I’m always fucking stoned and high and – what if i sobered up? How sharp and much more would I be elevated? In mind, and social stature – my own ego. Is a powerful thing. I have my pride. I am prideful. But i feel I have earned it. You go through what I go through, and those of you who know me, know what I mean, you earn it.

If I so may make honorable mention to my friend Ale.x. – (if anyone knows what I’m talking about right now, it’s him – I know he’s grinning as he reads this thinking “yup” –  Now that is one mother fucker whom I love to death. He is smart and sharp and intelligent, he’s funny as fuck and – I sound like I have a crush on him I know… but he’s one of my best friends.  I say that ‘cause we’re so alike. He’s got an ego too. He’s a proud guy. But you know what? He knows his shit. He’s been through a lot, and the rest, well he’s smart enough to figure out. I give the guy much credit to whatever he does, its well thought out – almost too good.  I mention Alex, not just for the just for the excellent caliber of friendship, but also insane ability to also handle a drug trip, er… binge. Hah hah.  I’ve done mushrooms with this guy, I’ve done coke with him, smoked meth and crack with him. (I hope you don’t mind me saying bro, but you know me, I’m the honest, heartfelt writer)  I’ve done e with him, and since last, had my last huge binge with him, 2 week period,  we did and sold mdma at a club in Edmonton. Brilliant time – though it cost me a bit more than what it may have been worth. But life has it starts and stops. Its stops and starts.

I find myself easily annoyed at the lack of people in my life that draw me to a depth of passion – to live and dream and succeed. I seem to have taken the forefront now. Am I to look down to the next generation now? And be that friend? Be that mentor? Try to have patients? Or am I to leave all this, and to continue to pursue endeavors and friends that challenge my intellect, my being – my existence.

Needless to say this trip has been monumental. One where everything just falls into perspective. Life, love, relationships. Yourself, and how it all is glued together. I could see it and just understand. That I need to stop stressing out over it all. Life is a journey. And you know what. It’s an excellent fucking journey. So get out there, and fucking live it. Live it big, and don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to fuck up and do something stupid, don’t be afraid to hate – to love – to say you care – or don’t care. Just do something, don’t sit around and rot. GET OUT THERE. Piss people off, if you have too – get noticed. Find someone to love you, someone who cares – who sticks it out with yah, cause they think you’re worth the time. That’s what it’s all about.  It’s all about love.

If you got love you got everything. You need to love yourself though before you can appreciate other kinds of love, otherwise you’re never happy. I love myself, who I am – I am an excellent fellow. I do have my quirks and I can be quite a fucking ass hole. Though not if you treat me right, and If I find you to be of worthy company and of equal stature – we’d get along nicely. If not, I’d tell you so, and people who know me, know this. Hah hah.

Ah yessss. Well I guess here is to new  times, like old times, making me miss old friends and wish for new ones. THIS HAS BEEN: An Acid trip (first)  – wind down, brought to you, by the like of Ron Bergquist.

It’s roughly 9:30 am – if anyone was wondering.


if you must know

I think about you all the time – every moment of every day since I met you. I stupidly reply, everything good and everything bad. No worries though, cause I am patient and I kinda know you are too…. be patient with me and I will be with you – who knows what the future holds – don’t give up or give in – until it’s time to do so.

My head is full of thoughts of you – you don’t even know. 😛 I share some – a piece or two but there is much more.

“Old Man” – A return to Vancouver Island – Gold River

  • Old Man by Neil Young is playing.
  • On a ferry ride, to Vancouver Island, unknowingly running away from another life.
  • Returning to a place I’ve longed to return to – to a past where much is unsettled
  • While yet – there is much to be gained; new experiences and people.

Written: December 22nd 2010

“Old man, look at my life, I’m a lot like you were, old man look at my life 24 and there’s so much more”…

8 years. 8 years have passed. Is 8 years a life time? What is a life time? A decade? 25 years? 100? It’s been 8 years since I have been here. It feels like a lifetime ago. Another life. A different life. Someone else lived it, saw it, breathed it. Who am I today? That I am here and am loving every moment of this. I may be falling in love with the possibilities that can happen in life. They are endless. Sadly, life is not. Life ends, we grow old – we die. We have internal clocks that expire, in the heart and mind – body. We decompose as we live. This is to say, we are supposed to live and live with purpose, for our time can run out… and we don’t know when or how.

“Live alone in a paradise that makes me think of two, love lost such a cost, give me things that don’t get lost like a coin that won’t get tossed. “

We are to live and make the best of choices as they come, jump on opportunity and turn possibilities into reality. We grow old. We grow old, fast. I am 24 and nowhere near where I want to be in life. I have no real direction or purpose. Or at least it doesn’t feel like. I am 24 and this is supposed to be the prime of my life. The prime of what? Prime procrastination and destruction?  I should be established, living my dream, living well – falling in love and loving life. Instead, I live in my head. Everything is a dream built upon a dream, built upon another dream. The drugs fuel these dreams and keep them closer to heart and mind than reality itself…. and time slips away.

“Old man take a look at my life, I’m a lot like you, I need someone to love me the whole day through One look in my eyes and you can tell that’s true. “

I’m looking backwards, the tail end of life, the wake – watching the waves churn up possibilities I’ve let go of, chances I chose not to choose, love that I didn’t feel till It was nothing but a memory of a small idea that could have been… leaving me with nothing but coldness and self hatred. This perpetuated hatred keeps possibilities at a distance, I am too much in the dark. I can’t see past the darkness. My own darkness and peoples darkness.  I believe this world is cold, dark and ugly. And only a stupid moron would choose to believe otherwise. But in the end… who’s the moron… the one who lived life and loved, or the one who stood still in the darkness… I want to see life with beauty in it, I want to look into another’s eyes and see love looking back at me, and know love is looking through me at another – Stop focusing on the darkness.

“Lullabies look in your eyes, run around the same old town, doesn’t mean that much to me to mean that much to you, I’ve been first and last, look at how time goes past, but I’m all alone at last”…

My son is virtually the only thing that ties me down. The only thought worth staying in one place for. Otherwise, life is endless with possibilities. I can do anything, There is nothing in this world, that I could not do. I do could it all. Anything. Everything. But I don’t want everything, only certain things. Idea’s. Places. People. Certain people. Certain loves. People I want to love and be loved by. The ones who’ve faded into the past. The ones… time has taken away. I don’t care anymore for people. The majority of it, simply doesn’t matter anymore. I know what I want – and I watched it fade into darkness. Everything has gone black. Where is the light? I am alone. I have made it this way. I am tired of it. I am tired of the same old thing, same old places, same old people. I want things to change, and I don’t want to be alone anymore.

How do I grab a hold of life? I’ve recently, in the last months, made up my mind, that the only way to escape and come back to level ground, was to escape it all. Put myself out of this world, by putting myself in some kind of rehab center. Escape the drugs and the bad influences I allow into my life. But… what then? I still have to come back. I still have to… re integrate into society. I’d have to start all. Over. Again. Again. Always again. How many times have I started over? I just want to go forward. Stop with the excuses and live. Live now. Before I’m an old man. An old man trapped with the mind and heart of a young man, cause I never lived the way I wanted to live when I was young.

I don’t want to be like those who’ve gone before. I want to be different. Radical. Free. Living life in a way that lights people up and gets them excited. There is so much more. So much more to life. And we miss it. Every day. We miss it. It just goes past. We watch it. Don’t even wave to it. There it goes. Gone. Lost. Forever.

Presently I am headed into the future while living the past. Knowing I am returning to the home of my teenage years. Terrible years. I am going back. I am going back to face friends and places I’ve not seen in 8 years. I have changed. They have changed. Memories remain. Can I change them? Can I repair damage done? Life didn’t have to be that way, life doesn’t have to be the way it is now. What am I going to do about it?

I know this ferry ride so well. I am no longer used to it. I am getting motion sickness. I used to be used to it. I never used to get sick. How like life. A ferry ride that we stop riding at some point, and returning to it, to life, to reality, makes us sick – well, it makes me sick. Can I hide forever? No. I am a dreamer. Dreamers don’t hide. They live. Fear. This fear. I am ruled by fear. I am ruled by judgment. I want to escape it and be something more than I am – without the drugs. The drugs seem like an escape. But in reality – just a dead end with me dead at the end. I will not end like that. I need to wake up. My dreams must become a reality. Before. I’m nothing. But. An old man.

December 22nd

~ It’s so beautiful here, it’s bringing me to life. I’ve been dead for so long… like so many old men who’ve sailed this ship before me.

The Last Project

Prelude –

It’s funny…. this was supposed to be the last entry I ever did online, and the reasons why. It was about a year ago now that I started it, and hence why for about a here, just 6 days shy, that I stopped. This is still not finished – Ironic, really – when it was supposed to be the last piece of writing I ever displayed online. I was actually planning on deleting my facebook and all other online accounts too.

– truly Ironic, cause though I never finished it – it seems finished now – and I’m certainly not finished writing for the public eye. Lets get back down to buisness, kicking off where we left off one year ago… enjoy the piece.

June 04 2010

In the end, we’re always brought back to the beginning.

In the beginning, since I’ve written journals, I always wrote as if I was writing to an audience. The tense I used was as if someone was going to read it. Though, no one ever did, just me. I noticed this after several months, (about 5 years ago now) that I wrote as if I had readers. I didn’t do this intentionally; it was just the way it came out.

I could begin to see myself writing things that were relevant to people, stuff people actually wanted to read, stuff people could actually benefit from.  Though, being an expressionist – someone who always tries to capture and convey emotion. When doing this, I more often than not choose to take a creative route. That said, my poetry, art and journaling has evolved from being metaphors and hidden images, to being blunt and real.

I have always been a fairly open person, trying not to lie or hide what I am feeling. (Though naturally still am very much so inclined to this) Being open, honest – brutally honest, was something I became proud of – especially after noticing how people are inclined to put on a mask, shy away, try to guard an image or project a new one – how often people don’t say what they really feel, tell where they are really at in life, or say what they really think. People simply are not inclined to show vulnerability in any shape, way, and or format.

A few years ago I discovered that I enjoyed seeing if I could get a real moment from people. Get them to just relax, be themselves, and be unafraid to admit… anything. I discovered that in order to this, one must do these themselves, first. So I began to simply open up, (and in ways long before this was shaped to do this) share things people would probably not normally share. More often than not, people shy away, wall themselves up and keep to the small talk.  So, I have effectively taken this into my own personal life. It’s not just something I do in writing. I push the boundaries of what should or should not be said. Especially about oneself. What is socially acceptable? Why? Who says it has to be that way?

In any event, I get called intense, weird, and insane even. So I play this up. I have the past to back it up, not to mention the words and wit – to make it interesting. Though, emotions get the best of me, and this to the mix and it’s a recipe for chaotic, raw, unapologetic, even brutal, behavior and writing. If it’s one thing I have always said about myself, it’s I’m more real in my writing than I am in real life. For me to share my writing is to share my world – myself, stripped down.  I generally try to hide nothing in my writing. I only ever want to capture real life experiences and emotions – the best and worst moments of myself and the world as I perceive it.

More to the point now. If I am truly real in my writing, and I write for an audience and people read – friends read my writing… How would they react? Is it any different than telling them in person? Is it any easier? Would people ask about my life in person if they read something I wrote that I posted online? Would people open up, back, reach out, try to understand and communicate? I began to test these things.

I guess I should add that I have this strong desire to be known. It’s weird. It started when I was young still. I believed that if I could, I would leave some kind of mark on this world. I was determined I would leave something behind to be remembered by. (One of my strongest motivations for writing) I had always thought though, what if I go through life and I am never known for who I really am? What if I die and people never know how I really felt about them or what I truly thought about life or how I saw things.  Then I began to think… how many people have lived like that, or do live like that?

So, I figured no matter what, keep it real when I write and people will always have a trace as to where I am, what I think, how I feel and what the world is like around me, or at least how I see it or choose to see it.  Also, I will have one hell of a collection of memories and stories I probably would have otherwise forgotten.

Though today, I honestly question the point. Especially if no one cares to read anything I write.  I mean at least in a personal journal or in raw poetry. I no longer feel like I am accomplishing anything, except perhaps making a fool of myself and my personal life. Maybe it’s all better kept for a book or someplace hidden away.

I am nearing the end of a chapter in my life. I think that is what I boil down too. I have become a differnt person, and over the next year, will drastically change my view points on many thing things, while deepening the most important ones in the ways they should be.

I think deep down, I feel writing things about people, for people, to people, or whatever… is just not as fun as interacting with them on a one on one basis. I wish to be confident to say what I want to say to someone’s face. The internet and all this email and texting, really does take something out of personal relationships with people. So from here on out, I’ll be doing my best to be real, upfront and outspoken – in person, honesty so, and perhaps even less emotionally. Though, still allowing my true character and passions shine through.

I’d like to keep posting poetry, though lately that has been getting to me, if I post it online, then anyone can read it or nab it and claim it as their own. It’s not very safe for me as a writer wanting to be published, especially when I post something wonderfully written.  I think if I do post; they will only be partial poems or very rough copies.  I do not doubt that those who have enjoyed reading my stuff, and those who’ve never read my stuff, will one day either read my book or poetry anthologies. (I hope both.)

It’s only been a year. But I’m back.

Time to shake of these dusty hands and blog again. It’s been along long time. You know, I’ve realized how much I need this as a person. Writing that is. In this manner. Getting out – and hey, if someone reads it. and likes it and learns a little something about me, or life or themselves, then cool. Not only does it keep my writing sharp, but keeps me less stressed out. I need to get things out. Especially when in relationships or with tough times. I need a place to put all these thoughts. I used to post here and on face book. But with all the family and friends on facebook, it made me feel weird, like some people would know too much. So, from now on I’ll keep deeper, darker, more private stuff here. Also good things like romance, love and sex. I’ll let the snoopy ones figure this place out, and if anyone ever wanted to mention something they read to me in person, they are welcome too.

As for anyone who follows my page, thank you and for all the random droper bys who take in a poem or a piece of writing. I notice, though my hits have been low, I have had some at least, every month for the last year. The last spike I had was back in December, Jan, feb, Funny thing is I know why too. In any event,

What’s around the corner!? Well I’ll be actually developing a written blog, and if I can post pictures maybe do something like that, with photos, poems, a rant section, I think I’ll make a work rant section where I can rant about work – so that doesn’t drive me nuts.

In any event, I am back and will be posting here again.