I wanted to die…

Okay, I admit: I made that title to catch the attentions of those around me who still care. To make people look up and maybe read this confession and, in some way, help someone.

Now, to explain how that title is, and was, accurate.

I have been thinking a lot about a conversation I had with an ex. We were dwelling on the hardships of life (as you do) and I stated how I wanted to die before I turned thirty.

The bleakness of the statement stopped our several-hour-long ramble dead and created a silence that physically hurt us both.

“Don’t you think thirty is a bit young?” she asked, almost pleading me to take my proclimation back. The most awkward part was that I could not do so. I was twenty-two. I had already released seven albums, played over one-hundred shows, and met literally thousands of people. I had felt heart break, I had felt love, I have destroyed and been destroyed. I was tired.

My only response was “…why would I joke about that…?” and we resumed staring at the wall for the next several moments.

Now, in my thirtieth year, I can honestly say that statement I made eight years ago was juvenile, uneducated and rash. I am not taking it back: at that moment, I could have taken the embrace of death with a smile and a nod. In fact, to be clear: I still do not fear death. I would love everything to end. I saw thirty of being just another goal, and at that time I saw it as an end goal. I knew very few reasons why, if I continued on that path, that I could justify living even that long.

Then; I did die. Twice. That girl left me while I was in hospital (for very justified reasons) and I lost the use of most of my body to which I am only just regaining pieces and parts back. That situation helped me meet my wife, write a book, realize that I have some amazing friends, and do things that I could never expect me ever doing.

Is this me accepting what I have been through? No. A thousand times: NO. I have, however, used the situation I am in to realize what I can do, what I have done, and what I will do. My life is far from perfect in almost every way. I am broke. I am in horrible debt. I am useless to society as a whole seeing as I CANNOT work. I am tired. Oh, let me reiterate that one: I AM TIRED. I refuse to let these things stop me from doing what I can. I refuse to have the possible brain damage that I sustained in my battle with encephalitis five years ago slow me down. I still have enough of my faculties to write and live. I like to think I am an okay husband, and I hope that I am an okay father one day too.

Final thoughts: I am just going to keep doing everything I am currently doing, only better. I will make this life my bitch. I will do everything I need to because I want to not because I have to.

I will just die later.


Remember up above where I mentioned how I am in horrible debt? I cannot afford to renew the site right now. I am working on everything with what I have right now, but do not get too thrown off if this blog vanishes for a couple of weeks. To make things easier, look at my Patreon page. Also, get hold of me on my personal pages with marketing offers. I am not opposed to tastefully selling-out. I am sure there is a more politically correct way of saying that, but I am heavily medicated right now. I will fix it in the morning.


A story about a tramp named Oline

I do not think I have already written about this, but if I have: PLEASE STOP ME!

Hahaha… you’re already reading it, so: too late!

When I was in school, suffering and not knowing why, I stayed in the residence on campus. It was okay, I guess, but it was far from interesting. People were (mostly) okay mannered when it came to the kid in the wheelchair, and the tight-nit staff were always fantastic to chat to when we all had time.

One hugely ironic thing I had to deal with was at at floor meeting. We were all gathered into the common room on the flood to discus what we could do as a group for, you know, “getting to know people” shit. Yeah, that’s what it was called!

I digress.

So yes, we were all gathered into this large room to toss out ideas for group activities. I heard tag being mentioned a few times, as well as poker and hide and seek. I was not planning on doing any of this, but it was interesting to hear the general mindset of everyone I would be spending the next eight months to a year with.

The floor co-ordinator rose up triumphantly and said “I was just asking out of formality. We already have started to organize a group trampoline day!”

The room then went very quiet as all eyes set on me and my roommate. He was in a wheelchair, as well, and you could almost hear everyone asking how we would be involved even though no one said it.

The reason this was hilarious, by the way, was because our floor leader-person-whatever was this girl who was just finishing her PhD in sociology specializing in involvement and inter-personal relationships. She only acknowledged my roommate and I when someone spoke up.

“Uh.. what are they supposed to do?”

It was a bit heartless and cold, but the point was sound. Her reccomendation for a trampoline party was without any consideration for anyone who physically could not conform.

She got visibly angry as she finally noticed my roommate and I, did not say anything, then quickly adverted her eyes away from our direction. She spent the rest of the evening pretending we did not exist.

I would like to take this opportunity to point out the irony between what she was sporting educationally and regurgitating verbally. She could not think of a world where someone might not be able to conform to her brilliance.

That really seems to be the issue with western society at large. There is little to no consideration for those who are physically disabled. Sure, there are bylaws and previsions put in place. They are, however, put in place over a world designed for the abled. Far too often have I seen a ramp that goes to an automatic door where the door then swings TOWARDS the person, pushing them back down the ramp.

I realize how stern I sound in that last paragraph, but I am far from angry. I find the intentional blinders put up by society the funniest things ever.

On an unrelated note, my book has gone up in price by one Canadian dollar for the digital copy. I hope you don’t mind. I like making rent.


I am actually honoured to write this post.

Katie was invited by The Twin to come out to a show back in 2010. Now to date ourselves: the invite was sent over MySpace because everyone used it back then.

ANYWAY: Katie was this very hyper girl who showed up and her and I spoke only twenty minuets over the event. However, her and I exchanged e-mails that night, and we have never spent more than a month out of communication.

Our humour works in the most backwards ways. She is hyper but an introvert, I am quiet but an extrovert. I do not know why we are friends, but we are very tight friends. We refer to each other as siblings very often.

When I ended up in hospital, she came by as often as she could. She remained awkwardly inspirational and never talked down to any situation that I found myself in.

We started Mind the Music TO in 2015 with me writing album reviews and her showcasing her photography.

I love her.

/I’m probably wrong…

WARNING! This post goes in the face of most established spiritual concepts and may result in frustration to some.

I have found myself questioning my belief structure a lot as of late.

When I was faced with my death five years ago, my thoughts on how there is no reason to anything were confirmed. This vindicated a lifetime of being a devoted atheist and solidified views on nihilism. The resulting several years have given me more than ample time to reflect on and research concepts that people have been arguing over for millennia.

So, what have my observations brought me to? It is clear when you read my latest book how I view life in particular, but in regards to our purpose in life I have always been a bit dodgy.

That fact relates right to how I view spirituality as a whole. It also explains my humour. It does not matter, there cannot be reincarnation (because it makes no sense) and there cannot be an afterlife. Therefore, when we die, we die.

Those more astute may ask “why do you claim reincarnation is impossible and an afterlife is silly?” and I cannot fault you for thinking that.

Reincarnation is the idea that we get reborn into another being. Now, this has been explained that we get brought back into another human and that we get brought back into animals. Both I find equally improbable and silly. To say that “we get brought back” is to admit that we have a soul. Fine, I say, but what defines a soul? I have looked it up, and find the definition unsatisfactory. To assume that we have a soul and nothing else is just horribly ignorant, and to say everything has a soul brings into question what everything is. It you use the definition where everything that is alive has a soul, what is considered alive? Are you including plants, cells, and animals? If you do, the argument could be made that you could come back as a brain cell and a skin cell could be the next generation. If your answer is no, then the definition of a soul is restrictive.

For an afterlife, you have to consider how long life has existed. How diverse all of everything is; how varied your day-to-day is. What definition is there to be considered for this afterlife? Do NOT say religion: that would imply that if you have no choice in your faith and everything is meaningless.

Seriously, though: all because Jim (you know, that guy who did that amazing thing that saved humanity) had no way of being involved with that one deity, he has no right to be in your afterlife? And what exactly does happen to him and his “soul?” If the argument is going to be hell, that is a full place. If the argument is purgatory, there are billions of people there. If that doesn’t matter because reasons, why did I not see the gates or door or whatever of these places when I died? Did I not really die because I came back? Were the doctors just mistaken on what there machine read, and they got kicks out of telling my family that I was gone?

I will end this by saying I am sorry if you became frustrated by any concept I dwelt on for more than a couple of words. I wrote this simply because I found myself being asked a lot about whether the character in my new book was dead or not. Please, leave any arguments below. Regardless of whether or not I respond, I will be thinking hard about what you have to say and I will be questioning my personal anguish in relation to your insights.

Price Drop

Hi everyone!

As I have stated (over, and over again) my book is out!

You probably noticed that I had it initially priced at $2.99 CND for digital copies. I am sorry for that: it was a recommended price that I have subsequently fixed.

Now, on Kobo and Kindle, the book is available for 99cents! Softcover copies are already as low as I can make them and still make some sort of profit.

I am still scouring the internet looking for other avenues to put my book for sale. If you know of one, leave a comment below or get hold of me somehow and let me know your idea!

this does not matter

As promotion for my upcoming book, I thought I would release the first few pages to you all. I hope you enjoy!

Side note: I am setting up as many places to purchase the book as possible. So far, I have Amazon and Kobo set up to start distribution on the 5th. Do you know of somewhere else I can release it?

A new town. A new place to create a name.

If only Joel looked around upon earlier visits, he may have noticed just how dilapidated everything is. Run-down stores with broken windows and doors, the road was cracked and tarnished, and there was a distinct lack of population. The trees looked tired: their leaves were scarce and branches broken. Even the clouds looked as if they hated existing and the sun was keeping its face hidden.

Joel was a standard mid-twenties North American. He has no illusions for how difficult life is going to be financially. The financial markets were already ruined by the generations of the past. To get into the job market as a graphic designer took years of school. He would be angry about everything, but he knows there is no point in complaining about it.

“That is just the way things are.” is his mantra.

“The things I do for a new opportunity…” he muttered to himself. He had just accepted a transfer to a location near by for work. Rent here was substantially cheaper. The only downside was that he had to move because of proximity. His prior job was a quick ten-minute drive from his apartment, where this new place was still going to be thirty-minutes if he moved to a few towns over.

Why had he not seen people? It was a Saturday afternoon, yet the roads were bare. Yes, the stores in the area were derelict, but there was no one even mowing lawns or driving to near by towns. It all seemed surreal and left a horrible taste in Joel’s mouth. He found himself dwelling on his purpose here once again while he turned the corner off the main drag.

His piece-of-shit car moaned as he sped up to hurry to his destination. He was close, and he was almost excited. He got a place already furnished, and he was very excited to lie on the couch for an hour while he got to contemplate how the next week will go. He was too far from home to have visitors.

Finally, he arrived at his new house. There was no drive way, so he parked on the side of the desolate street and oozed out of the car, closing the door behind him gently as to not knock the bumper off.

The house was a shit-hole: it reminded him of something from a cliche horror movie.

At least it matched his car.

The front had a screen door that was barely on its hinges. There was little grass on the front lawn, and the bits that were there needed to be mowed. The windows looked tired: he could see through the frame almost better than the glass.

“How fucking bleak.” Joel said to himself out loud. No one was around to hear him. He chuckled in spite of himself.

“New trait: talking to myself!”

He walked towards the property. There was a tiny walkway that, at one time, had been beautiful. Now it was just a collection of light-grey cement stones. The path went near a tree that had clearly been in that place for over a century. The leaves were looking nearly dead, and several branches barely hung on. At least it still had bark.

The door was preceded by a porch that had five stairs leading from the ground to it. Far from grand: the wood had started to decay and Joel was instantly concerned that there was mold. Somehow the house was looking worse and worse every second.

Joel stepped onto the porch and was pleased that he did not sink to the dirt ground. The wood was sound. He pulled out his keys and slid them into the lock for the screen door. The lock squealed when he turned the tumbler. The door swung towards him and slammed hard into the opposing wall with a loud bang. Joel spun around, concerned that he disturbed someone. Kind of hoping he would see someone if, for no other reason, to ask about local news, weather, anything. Unfortunately, no one was there. He was alone. Deflated, he collected himself and proceeded to unlock the interior door.

Or, he would have unlocked the door, if it had a lock. He turned the knob and the door slowly creaked open.

“Nice and safe.” Joel said with a heavy sigh. “Why have a lock on the flimsy outer door and nothing on the strong inner door?”

Confused, he walked into the front hall and was pleasantly surprised. For having such a terrible introduction, the house was beautiful. He was met just inside the door by a simple staircase going up to a second flood and an opening into the sitting room. Through the frame, he could see the okay-condition couch and a CRT television.

He was taken back for a moment: it was 2017! CRT’s have been out of mainstream production for at least 10 years.

“Well: home sweet home, I guess…” Joel mustered the strength to make a snide remark instead of being too disheartened. He did not hate the ascetic, to be clear. He just never pictured himself living in an 80’s horror movie.

At the very least, the air in the building was clear and clean.

Benefit of being out of the city, Joel thought to himself.

He took a quick look around the house. He was quite happy to find that there was a sturdy looking bed upstairs and a stove and fridge in the kitchen. The stove has a very old gas-burning range but the fridge looked to have been replaced in the last ten years. He turned the knobs on the stove-range and it clicked to life.

“At least that works.”

The fridge was in tandem with a freezer on top. Very traditional, but he at least knew that it would work.

Suddenly, the day took hold of Joel. He felt exhausted. The drive was not far but it was far enough.

He changed into his night attire and retired up the old stairs. They were beautiful: dark wood and the staircase was bordered by two light-wood banisters. The bars that connected them is a black steel. The stairs followed his steps with a deep creek. He expected as such.

He could not believe how almost exhausted he was. It was only nine-o’clock. He was used to being out seeing friends and experiencing what the city he lived in has to offer.

Now, there were some positives in the situation. He had moved out on his own, finally. He was away from his friends who, though he loved them, were all bad influences on him. He had a car, and civilization was not too far away. The property was also near main highways and arterial roads so he knew that, if he wanted to, he could go into the bigger city. Yes: he was exactly where he wanted to be. Just out of the way to not be badgered, but close enough to everything that no-one had an excuse not to come around.

He was still bothered by the lack of people walking around. Though the clouds, it was a beautiful day! It seemed like a ghost town where he could have screamed in the streets and never have hear about it again.

“Fuck!” Joel exclaimed. “I forgot my bedding in the car!”

He was too tired to dwell on this, he thought. Joel called it early. He would wake up early tomorrow to move in his belongings in: the green couch on the main floor was perfect for sleeping on tonight.

Chapter 2

Note to self: get blinds.

Joel woke to the sun glaring through the window. He was disorientated, still sleepy, and had a headache.

“Good morning, world..” he mustered through gritted teeth.

He slowly got to his feet. His head felt heavy and his limbs were sore. It turns out that sleeping on the couch was not the greatest idea. At least he figured out which way the sun rose in the morning.

He wanted coffee.

He left his coffee beans and grinder in the car last night.

Last night he thought that to be a grand idea.

This morning he thought it was stupid.

“Damnit, Joel! Why do you do this to yourself?”

He stood up slowly and stretched. The house looked beautiful in the morning he thought to himself as he wiped the sleep from his face. Beams of light cascaded through the window in the room he was in and he could see it radiate into the hall beside him.

He put a light-fabric hoodie on, adjusted the jeans he slept in the night before, and pushed open the door. It had stayed shut all night, but it was still more of an image thing than a safety thing: the latch had not even fastened, and it was only held in place by the frame.

He slowly marched down the “path” back towards his car. There was something strange that he noticed: there were no birds calling. Joel knows that he is not literally in the country, but he thought they were far enough from civilization that he would hear them on a morning like this one. Even in the city, he would hear one or two serenading the morning.

He arrived at his car and opens the back right door. His things spill out onto the shoulder of the road. Joel moves as fast as he can for it being first thing in the morning, but fails to save majority of the luggage.

“Fuckin’… I’ll deal with it later.” he mutters in contempt.

Joel is smart.

Joel kept his coffee grinder and beans near the top of the pile for such a situation.

Joel is stupid.

Joel had to take another eternity of routing through the car to find a mug.

A total of twelve minute. Joel cannot hide his smile as he heads back to the house, beans in one hand, cup in the other. He was successful.

He loved his coffee, and he needed it to survive the day.

It was not quite a physical addiction to caffeine, but an emotional dependency was still in the cards.

On his walk back, he finally got to see the house in the sun. There used to be grass in the front yard, but now there were just weeds. The tree that he half noticed last night was a lot worse than he initially thought. The porch was actually in better condition than he thought, but it desperately needed a new coat of paint.

The house was a very traditional-looking two-story house. Pointed roof, huge front window that opened into the front room, and entrance doors that were completely useless. Considering his impressions when he pulled in, it could have been worse.


Just then, a loud noise startled Joel from his thoughts.



Seriously, though: if you know of somewhere else I can distribute it, let me know. Unfortunately, I am (again) doing it all myself.