John Watt
Member
no longer waiting for the sun.
Ils ne bon, mon ami. We talk duality, and it strikes out at me. While online interest in my patentable guitar grows, so does the criminality of Welland against me. People come to this house, misrepresenting themselves. My friends dog was poisoned and died. I have bought a new domain from Bell to secure consistent email. When corporations offer help, you are suffering on the street. I've been told by provincial authorities I probably won't be collecting my inheritance. People say what I say makes my life suffer, and now that I've got a digital camera, taking pictures can get me killed.
People I was arrested as a mayoral candidate for calling a secret society of crime, are now getting convicted as Hell's Angels under the first application of gang membership laws. The assistant crown attorney, son of the crown attorney who tried to jail me, has been arrested twice with a judge and criminal family member for money laundering and cocaine. Outside enforcement finds it too easy to walk in Welland and observe and arrest. Of course, there is only me to blame.
All those all day, all day and night bike-hikes I leave on are gone. I've lost my sense of needing nature. Now it's a part of me. What great gift that has been, later in life, finding all the seasons outdoors, especially at night. That's a new world, and more active with animals and birds. I can see how they avoid humans. The Niagara Peninsula is my backyard. I can wade far out in The Niagara River and look over the edge, after the guards are gone.
I'm tapping and rapping my fingers, practicing patterns, working on speed, getting ready to play. A friend from south of Calgary, out west, just emailed saying his local radio station had a special on Welland, saying the province should issue an advisory for the youth to leave. It's been three years since my father passed away, and I can't collect a penny of my inheritance, or else I'd be catching a laptop message sitting in the shade beside you.
This drives me. I'm going to act out publicly again. I'm going to the police station and nail a statement to the wall. Yes, a Lutheran influence, not Straus or Wagner, but what is made known to be public and shown to the public is my only defense. I was born a musician, but I have to strive to walk like a man. I think I'm going to put on some of my parents albums tonight. "Victory at Sea" by The Frank Chacksfield Orchestra, "The House of Blue Lights", "What Did He Say (The Mumble Song) and those muted and wah-wah trumpet jive records my mother loved.
I shall visit your site, sunwaiter. Thank you for the personal invitation. It may be taking me out of this domain, something I didn't want to do, wanting to respect the privilege, but with my own musical domain now online, as temporary as this generic format choice is, I now am pulled between two orbiting worlds of words of music, and you have caught me in between.
I dread this sense of finality. It is my life I see ending.
Ils ne bon, mon ami. We talk duality, and it strikes out at me. While online interest in my patentable guitar grows, so does the criminality of Welland against me. People come to this house, misrepresenting themselves. My friends dog was poisoned and died. I have bought a new domain from Bell to secure consistent email. When corporations offer help, you are suffering on the street. I've been told by provincial authorities I probably won't be collecting my inheritance. People say what I say makes my life suffer, and now that I've got a digital camera, taking pictures can get me killed.
People I was arrested as a mayoral candidate for calling a secret society of crime, are now getting convicted as Hell's Angels under the first application of gang membership laws. The assistant crown attorney, son of the crown attorney who tried to jail me, has been arrested twice with a judge and criminal family member for money laundering and cocaine. Outside enforcement finds it too easy to walk in Welland and observe and arrest. Of course, there is only me to blame.
All those all day, all day and night bike-hikes I leave on are gone. I've lost my sense of needing nature. Now it's a part of me. What great gift that has been, later in life, finding all the seasons outdoors, especially at night. That's a new world, and more active with animals and birds. I can see how they avoid humans. The Niagara Peninsula is my backyard. I can wade far out in The Niagara River and look over the edge, after the guards are gone.
I'm tapping and rapping my fingers, practicing patterns, working on speed, getting ready to play. A friend from south of Calgary, out west, just emailed saying his local radio station had a special on Welland, saying the province should issue an advisory for the youth to leave. It's been three years since my father passed away, and I can't collect a penny of my inheritance, or else I'd be catching a laptop message sitting in the shade beside you.
This drives me. I'm going to act out publicly again. I'm going to the police station and nail a statement to the wall. Yes, a Lutheran influence, not Straus or Wagner, but what is made known to be public and shown to the public is my only defense. I was born a musician, but I have to strive to walk like a man. I think I'm going to put on some of my parents albums tonight. "Victory at Sea" by The Frank Chacksfield Orchestra, "The House of Blue Lights", "What Did He Say (The Mumble Song) and those muted and wah-wah trumpet jive records my mother loved.
I shall visit your site, sunwaiter. Thank you for the personal invitation. It may be taking me out of this domain, something I didn't want to do, wanting to respect the privilege, but with my own musical domain now online, as temporary as this generic format choice is, I now am pulled between two orbiting worlds of words of music, and you have caught me in between.
I dread this sense of finality. It is my life I see ending.
