One Man Can Make a Difference - all material is copyright protected - visit www.onemancan.ca

Here we are, my roommate, his 4 year-old boy, and myself, hanging out on a Sunday afternoon in a tiny one bedroom apartment in downtown Vancouver. There are parts of Vancouver that have cute little neighborhood names. This one is The WestEnd - ya right! Not too far east from here is Yaletown and just across the downtown core is a touristy little spot called Gastown. Now this a reason I'm laying this all out for ya. I just think with all these cute little neighborhood names that they should've named this area GayTown. I don't mean to sound facetious; I mean to sound funny. You see, this is the neighborhood where Pride takes on a whole new meaning, from Pink Painted Bus Stops to Rainbow Banners, and one of the raciest Gay Pride Parades you might ever enjoy seeing - or not.

I don't know what it is with some of them. I get the hots for some beautiful girl and she wants nothing to do with me and tells me so, I know I gotta go. These guys though, they just keep pushing the envelope. And not only is gay sex a total turn-off, I don't think they're attractive either. .... I don't know how to type out the quivering creepy shiver that runs through my body at the thought of some of those propositions. Of course, living here means that not everyone is gay in the neighborhood either. There is a good mix of people from all walks of life and from quite a variety of countries as well. Many foreign students, immigrants, women (some dykes and some not) .... It's really becoming difficult to know where it is safe to tread.

In spite of all this colorful talk and seemingly judgemental banter, I have to admit that I have met some cool folks - some gay, straight, dykes, immigrants, students, and everything in between. Did I mention the street people? They really seem to like this neighborhood. The crack-heads, needlers, tokers, bums, bumettes, prostitutes (mostly male), and a whole lot more. I resisted moving to this sort of neighborhood for a long time. Stayed in the burbs for what seems like ever. Now I'm here and sometimes I wanna move but it's not all that bad. Tolerance, curiousity, patience, learning, experiencing, meeting, working, eating, walking, oh... did you hear about the seawall? Check this out....



I took this photo with a digital camera not very far from here. I used the panorama feature. It's 8 shots to take in a cool view - 4 down and 2 across - stitched together. Love that feature. Love that view.
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Listening to Sunday Morning by Maroon 5 - never heard them before but it's got a cool groove.

Went out last night after working my ass off yesterday - God working at the computer all day, while great when the juices are flowing, can be a real drain on the spirit by the end of the day. I needed some human interaction. I hooked up with a guy from England and another from Australia. Both friends. Of mine. Had a cool time. Drinking beer. Won free tickets. Yuk Yuks. Drank more beer. Watched beautiful women. aaahhhh. Watched the Tennis Finals. Aussie got beat. It was a good fight. Finally home in bed by 4:30am. Damn. Up again at 8:30am. Body Clock training can really suck after a time.

New groovy tune: The Remedy by Jason Mraz ... hip-hop-happenin-toe-tappin
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Scan on down There's some cool stuff on this page... or so I've been told by some beautiful people and who gives a fuck anyway.
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I saw something one day... it totally screwed with my head, with my mind, my emotions, my heart swelled with anger, frustration, despair, total fucking hairy insanity. Check it out:

The News

Pain, sorrow, sadness
Felt by all
As a child is laid to rest

Beaten and abused
By one with no right
Sad, scared, confused
A child runs with fright

I cannot read the news
The hurt, anger, and pain
Wells up in my gut
As violence is felt crawling
Beneath my skin.

A Crime

A teardrop runs down a cheek
Confused and hurt a child cries
Cries for help, cries for forgiveness
Falling into empty space and stony silence
One to hear but none will listen
The savage attack ending in the final breath

I wrote these in 1996 after reading about an Uncle sodomizing a 2 year old nephew that killed that poor child. Unbelievable!
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Writing this led to me ponder about the poor baby's mother. Wow! What must she be experiencing now?

My Baby

Awake, alone and full of pain
A mother tries to sleep
Comforting herself
With a steady rocking
Sleep finally comes
But restless she remains
Tossing as nightmares haunt
Suddenly awakened
By the sound of crying
She stumbles and runs
Down a dark corridor
Opening the baby's door
She is greeted
By a hollow silence
Again she is reminded
Of the horror
Of her baby's death
Falling to her knees
Hands holding her face
Sobbing and shaking
She cries out in agony
"My BABY!"

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It still gives me shivers. I wonder if her nightmare ever ended?

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I need some welcome reprieve....

Facing her, he feels a need
A need to be closer, inside
The intimate act of love
Draws him to her
As a moth to a flame
A gentle touch spreading
The warmth of contact
Creating a sense
Of well-being.

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Does it work? I don't know. There are so many thoughts raging around in our minds and we rarely give them time to gain a purchase or understand what they mean, how they could be used, whether it's good, bad, ugly, sad.... but I'm seeing more... what is it?

Gotta go... eat... it's food... smells..... mmmmmmmm good. Bye