To my Gr. 8, 9, and 10 Best Friend.

Hey Jesse. I know you will never read this, as I have not talked to you in almost 6 years now, but I just wanted to say I miss you brother.

We used to be inseparable back in the day. Remember Ms. Shipley? The comfy couch that we used to all gather round at the end of the day? How about our fascination with Magic the Gathering? Do you remember how I was too poor to afford more than one deck, so you would lend me cards and let me pretend they were mine for the day? I miss that.

We were such dorks. I still reminisce about the 4 tapes worth of recordings we made for our "talk show" and the mock fantasy fights in the woods with broken branches. I remember corrupting your brother and introducing him into our twisted version of reality. The first time I ever ate hamburger helper was at your house and the first time you ate curry, was at mine. Even playing countless hours of N64 while gorging ourselves on White Spot was time well wasted. Hell, I even miss the one month you stayed at my house when things got too much for you at home. It was a fun month.

Dude. Where the fuck did you go?

We spent countless hours talking about what we would do when we grew up and how much our parents pissed us off. Oh we were bad asses.

I smoked my first joint with you. We were sitting in the woods, debating what to eat with our allowance, when you brought out the mystical white cocoon. I was shocked and fascinated. You had already smoked once you said, and I had to try it. So we did, burning the chronic with nonchalant ease. I remember walking around Hendersons Centre, massive grin on my face and experiencing what could only be described as floating on air. That was a good day, and I thank you for that.

As time went on, we slowly started drift apart. You made friends with a different crowd, and we hopelessly struggled to maintain our friendship. It was inevitable that it would fall through the cracks, yet we still tried. We still met occasionally, but only to do asinine and completely pointless things. Although to be fair, fire hockey and the "tow a fridge with a car while someone sits in it" incident(s) were quite memorable.

We clicked again in Gr. 11 for a little while, however that was only due to the Nepal trip (fucking mrs. brown that cunt). Once that ended, we drifted back to our respected crowds and things returned to high school normality.

Sigh.

Remember when you got beat up on the way to school back in the day? I was so angry. You were unusually ok with it, but I was fuming. I wanted to find the people who had done this to you and rip their faces off. Granted I was a small child, but even back then I had some serious fire in me.

Listen man, if in some fucked up reality you ever do read this, get in touch with me. I don't have your number, your address, last known whereabouts. Nothing. You literally dropped off the face of the planet. Hell, I talked to Daesha a little while ago, and she told me last she talked to you was about 4 years ago.

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego eh?

So lets talk about the 7 most horrifying parasites known to man.

Parasites that will make you afraid to leave your bed.

Jesus. Just.

Wow.

My favorite out of all of them is the Horsehair worm. That's manipulation at its finest.

Ladies and Gentleman, I have been completely sober for 1 week now.

Thank you, thank you.

I would like to thank all the little people that helped me along the way. Mostly the banking folk at Coast Capital Savings, and PC Financial who keep reminding me that I have no money to spend on booze. My brain cells, in conjunction with my liver give you their hearty applause in this one week of sobriety.

I wont lie, it was and still is a difficult path to tread. When living the hostel life, alcohol and debauchery almost become second nature to the avid traveler. Food and good sense take a back seat to sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

Some may call me a quitter, while others remain too fucked up to make coherent sentences. But I, Husain motherfucking Vahanvaty, will remain vigilant in my quest of not drinking until I absolutely have to (which will probably be until tomorrow because Im meeting someone for drinks, but hey I tried).

Backpacking alone and sober is quite the experience that everyone should try only once in their life. I once called alcohol a social lubricant, and by god it has never rang truer than in this past week. You see people who remain hermits throughout the day until the goon or VB gets brought out onto the table. Personalities take a dramatic shift, often taking on a livelier tone. Stories of grandeur and opulence spill out of mouths which otherwise dont utter much throughout the day. Gestures of love, hate, disgust all make an appearance (on a good night that is!) leaving the drinker exhausted from such an outpouring of emotion.

Alcohol has a tendency to reveal truth to an observant individual. You can often form a pretty strong picture of ones true personality when under the drink. Obviously you cannot judge an individual fully from one night of mayham but there is some truth in those actions. It can (again only to the observant person), shed some light on what one hides underneath.

Oh ye beautiful spirit.

What was I talking about again?

No sound ever comes from the gates of eden.

This is an apology for all the people who I should be keeping in touch with, but am not. This is of coarse assuming all those people read this thing (which I know they dont). But hey, its out there.

Sorry. You know I love you all.

In case you are angry or pissed off at me, I offer you a gesture straight from the heart. Music will heal the soul.

Free Wifi access in the public library. Yay!

So I am giving my dainty feet a rest after another few hours of hitting the pavement in an endless search for work. It is not as easy as my naive self once thought.

It seems I have come to Australia at an interesting time. The global recession has finally strolled into Oz with a vicious hit to the side of the head. The flooding and fires in the south (where I currently am) doesn't help the situation any either. My funds are dwindling to the point of no return. Money needs to start making its way into my pocket very soon or I fear I might have to come home. Technically speaking I actually am in the negative, but that's why god invented credit cards! High five for debt and ridiculous interest rates! Also, it turns out that there was a large hiring binge that occurred 20 days ago (which I clearly missed) and the next big one is expected to happen sometime in June or July.

Sigh. What has it been? 2 months? Not even. Granted I took almost no money with me and it has been quite a miracle that I have survived here this long, what with the incessant partying and obscene amount of drinking. But I don't want to leave yet!

Gah!

In all honesty I have no one to blame except for myself. The first month and a half I did nothing but party, and then party some more. I drank, ingested different substances, met alot of people, and generally had a fantastic/hazy time. There were people (who I probably wont ever see again), that I now consider life long friends. They were catalysts for certain realizations within my own psyche that I did not know existed and without them I would still be walking through life eyes half closed (contrary to what people in Vancouver may think).

I met gangsters, reformed drug addicts, actual drug addicts, whores, nerds, cranky old women, successful 50+ year old stoners, alcoholics, the content, the scared, the ones searching, the ones who think they found, and the ones who think its just enough to do the bare minimum and survive.

I regret none of it.

I came to Australia on a whim. I gave up my job, my apartment, my friends....everything. All because something clicked inside of my head. A two hour discussion about travel, turned into an a moment in time that few have had the chance to experience or even balls to try. I'm pretty damn proud of myself and I have nothing left to prove. This is me shining bright.

There might be a few people saying, "I told you so", well...fuck you? I really couldn't care what you think. Let me ask you this, how often have you laid everything on the line not knowing if your going to make it or not? How often have you just walked to where your feet need to be walked to? How often have you just sat down and listened to what you heart says, and then actually done it?! Why are you so goddamn afraid?

Granted, I know I have a home to go back to. My parents (the amazing people they are) have given me their full support and there is no substitute for that kind of love. But, I came to Australia to excel. To find that drive, that push to go over the top and soar. I am renewed. Throw it at my face and I will wipe it away and keep walking forward.

I still have some time. I will keep searching and I will keep working my ass off. I have no issues with that. But something has changed. I have changed. I am ready.

While, white horses,
They will take me away,
And the tenderness I feel,
Will send the dark underneath,
Will I follow?

Ha

So I was going through some of my random writings, and I came across this gem. Im not exactly sure what I was thinking when I wrote this down, but it did tickle my funny bone.

Chicka boom.
I am the devil man. Horns coming out of sand. Angel says no, fuck em.
Gabriel you don’t know disco. Dance come through your area. John Travolta, white pantsuit two stepin. Crip it Travolta, you sexy bastard.

Oh my.

Watching art evolve. Literally.

I just watched the coolest video I have seen in a very very long time and thought I would share it with anyone that still pays attention to this thing. It can be found here.

Let me remind you that this is REAL graffiti in conjunction with stop motion.
Simply incredible.

As long as you are here, another favorite graffiti artist of mine is Banksy. His art, found here, is very poignant and offers some fantastic social commentary. Not to mention that its pretty fucking cool!