Ottawa weekend with Dorrington

I went to visit my friend Dorrington two weekends ago in Ottawa. He's been looking forward to introducing me to one of his friends, who, it turned out, is a very sexy and nice guy. Dorrington and I tag teamed him all night on Friday, well into early morning Saturday.

After they both left on Saturday morning, I took the rest of the day napping and catching up food. Then Dorrington came over to chill with me. I had such a great time with both guys. It was a great way for me to celebrate one year of sobriety from t.

Free Palestine

 

As If

 Act as if

you're happy.

What would

A happy person do?

Create

Eat

Rest

Hydrate

Born

out of love

Created

out of joy

The Sun

is there, even

when it's overcast

We say fake it till you make it. Unsurprising that we would call happiness as fake, living in a system that ascribes personhood to corporations while capitalism dreams up financial instruments designed to rig the system (remember sub-par loans?).

They try their hardest to convince us that their inventions are concrete and sure-things, then come running to me for bail-outs while, at the same time, they press their boots harder against my throat.

I wonder, though, if the system has it backwards? What if our very nature is Joy-warm like Elder Brother Sun, luminous like Grandmother Moon?

Cheers!

This time last year, I took up writing/blogging again. It was mostly to process my recent activity with crystal meth. My memory is foggy, but I think my last use was Oct 28th, when I confessed to Manny that I had been using for the past several weeks.

"I need you. I can't do this without you," he said to me, matter-of-factly. No begging. No guilt trips. Just facts.

It's amazing what difference a whole year have made. I've never been more content and happy. I still get frustrated, sad, disappointed, angry, and all the other wonderful emotions that we human beings experience But I think I'm able to process them all a bit better. I am lucky to have a supportive husband, family, and community.

To anyone who reads my blog: thank you for being on this journey with me.

Curious, if you're up to it, pls let me know where you're reading from by commenting here (anonymously, if you like).

Here's to more years of art-making.

Your kasama,

J

A letter to a friend and mentor

This time last year, I was still working at my corporate accounting job where I felt burnt out, frustrated, and, generally, sad. I had just found out that I failed my second try at the CPA board exam, and felt at a loss of what to do next. I think I was still feeling reflective when, in September of last year, I was chatting with Manny during one of our morning cups of coffee together, I told him that I've felt lucky to have come so far into the CPA program, despite so many challenges. Then I talked about the many people who've helped me get to that point. One of them was my friend and mentor who lead the Healing Lodge. Manny suggested that I write her a letter expressing how I've been feeling lately about my experience meeting her and volunteering for the Lodge. What follows is the letter I sent to her on September 18, 2024. I didn't know, at the time, that only a month later, she would come knocking with a job offer, rescuing me from my corporate disillusionment.

***

Dear *****,

I hope this message finds you well. I've been reflecting on my time with the Lodge lately, and the times that I spend working with you and all the folks there. I just wanted to let you know you know that having met you in 2016 has been one of the most impactful relationships I have had with anyone in my entire life.

I learned so much about Indigenous culture through working with you. I appreciate you so much for including me in many of the rituals and ceremonies that we did in support of the Lodge. However, I also need to recognize that there were times when I was not at my best. Looking back, I think that I could have been more curious, and asked to learn more about your culture, background, language, and other things that make up the wonderful person that you are. For instance, I do remember that whenever you brought up the idea of doing a sweat, I would just stay quiet and not actively, and vocally express my gratitude to you for thinking of sharing this ceremony with a person like me, who is not of Indigenous background. There were also times when, I've recognized through reflection, that maybe I was not, at times, the best ally to you, or that I used an incorrect term to express myself, or I used small boxes for the rally donations instead of buckets as you had suggested. But I remember that you were always patient with me, bringing your own understanding and humour to the situation. Jeremy said the other day that I need to consider myself lucky for having had the privilege of working with you at the Lodge, because he sees how impactful it has been in my life since then. And I wholeheartedly agree.

This letter may seem like it's coming out of nowhere, but it's one that I've been wanting to send to you. I am immensely appreciative for everything that you've taught me throughout my time at the Lodge. It's still having an impact on me because I am now taking those teachings with me as I work closely with other organizations today. I hope to embody your example of someone who is always learning, growing, respectful, and applying a wicked sense of humour while I'm at it :-).

If there's ever anything that you need help with (either an accounting question, or what not), please never hesitate to reach out. I would also seriously like to hang out  sometime, whenever you are free. Wishing you good health and prosperity.

Love you,

Jose

***

Sniffies hottie (part 3.1)

This is the second set of videos my friend and I took when I paid him a visit while he's taking loads. They're in no particular order. The first set of videos from this meeting is here.

Haligi

My colleagues call me kuya or manong, older brother in Tagalog and Ilocano, respectively. The words would always affect me, whenever it's directed at me. It makes me want to cry. It's almost like a part of me doesn't feel deserving to have such respect. I feel unworthy of the honorifics.

I hope that I don't let anyone down. I hope that I can always be careful of other people's feelings. I hope that people can feel safe around me. I hope that I can always support and be a cheerleader for other people. I hope that I can muster up the courage to initiate tough conversations. I hope that I can listen in humility when people initiate tough conversations with me. We made promises to each other for mutual support and care.

I hope that I can forgive, and always find the good within. I hope that I can listen, and be a haligi, a strong pillar, on which anyone can rest their weary selves on. Because, this system is unforgiving. I hope that I can be kind, even to those trapped in the system, or agents of it, or defenders of it.

We are Treaty Peoples, all of us here on Turtle Island.

We are People of the Covenants.

Story time

Years ago, early in my struggle with meth, I had this idea of moving to Montreal for a fresh start. At the time, I had a studio apartment on Isabella St-a place that my dad's employer helped me secure as part of my parents' employment contract. I was paying $500/mo. Anyway, I had been struggling with sobriety, and, so, I just packed a suitcase one day and took a bus to Montreal, with my pipe and a bag of t in my pocket, with very little money on hand.

This would've been around Jun of 2005. The reason why I can pinpoint the month and year was because I remember watching the House of Commons vote on the equal marriage legislation, during this trip in Montreal. You see, once I arrived in the city, I went to the National Library and surfed the net, looking for hook ups. Eventually, I met a graduate international student who let me stay at his apartment. That's where I watched the vote. The guy was nice by letting me stay at his place, but he eventually asked me to leave.

For days, I walked around Montreal, my suitcase in tow. After a few days, my t had run out and hunger caught up. I had not eaten for days. I hung out at the bus terminal overnight. Outside of the terminal, there was one of those big balloons in a man's figure that was used as marketing for a nearby store. As the stick figure flopped side by side because of the wind, I watched from inside the terminal thinking it was a giant person moving. I was mesmerized by its dance.

The following day, weakened by desperation, I asked the security guard if he can point me to the nearest hospital.

"Why?"

"I'm hungry but I don't have any money."

He told me to go with him as he walked to the other side of the terminal, where a restaurant was serving food. He went in and talked to the person in charge, who gestured me to come in and sit at a table.

"Here you go," the man said, settling a plate full of food in front of me, with him sitting across from me. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember riding the subway with him, back to his place. When we got there, his girlfriend greeted us, and they continued talking in French.

Somehow, I found myself in their balcony, where a soft couch was situated, looking out onto the street. I sat down, and I must have passed out, but the next thing I remember was waking up, in a fetal position on the balcony couch. I think this must've been early evening.

Well-rested, the man took me back to the bus terminal where I phoned my family, letting them know where I was at. I asked my little brother if he can buy my ticket back home. My sweet ading (Ilocano for younger sibling) made no hesitations.

Earthborn Day

By this time last year, I was knee-deep in my last relapse that, I think, started around early October. The relapse lasted until the 28th of the month.

The word "relapse" indicate that there was a move towards undesirable conditions. I went from sober to shooting up every day. These days, what I find is that my sobriety experience is significantly better than my experience of getting high on t. Last time I was on it, I was consumed by psychosis. I thought I could hear people's thoughts and intentions. It was rough.

These days, sobriety, for me, means art-making. It means I can write poetry. It means I can tune in to inspiration. It means being with community. It means showing up as the full me: someone who's just doing their best in their own imperfect way.

It will be my birthday this Wednesday. Unlike before, I have no intentions of hiding myself away. I have come to realize that I am not to be ashamed of. Yes, I stumble. Yes, I make mistakes. But I'm learning. And I'm rediscovering my natural propensity for curiosity.

SOMPIG

 

The Alchemy of Kapwa

When my heart

is all in,

it doesn't mean

"no boundaries".

It doesn't mean

"free fall".

When my heart

is all in,

it means

I'm better at

listening to the limits

of what my body

can do.

Listening to the limits

of what my mind

can accommodate.

It means eating

a balanced diet.

It means getting my

steps in.

It means time with

loved ones.

It means laughing

heartily at a joke

only my best friends and I

could understand.

It means

going where

I actually want to go,

doing the work

that gives me joy

and healing.

It means, sometimes,

saying no.

Sometimes, it means

waiting until

the morning before

sending that text.

Because

life be living.

And things will come up.

Many things up

in the air.

Ultimately,

burnout

is out of the question,

I can perform

and do the work

when my heart leads.

Because,

when it leads,

calendar invites

ceases to be "obligations",

work stops being "work",

not an inconvenience

Rather,

It's just another day

of kapwa

in community.

It is

joyous alchemy

in its purest form.

📸 Toronto's Westside by @ashman.photos

Dripping and wet

I am finding that, as I show up at community events in my capacity as an arts organization leader, I brush up with different kinds of people. A certain group of people would be folks who come from big institutions (i.e. banks, conglomerates, corporations, etc) who loooove to pat themselves on the back for partnering with community orgs. Earlier this past week, I was in a conversation with one such person. After I let her finish gushing over her institutions resume of community partnerships, I said to her:

"That is just right that people like us from institutions should be partnering and contributing to the community. It is just the bare minimum that we can do."

I was talking to my husband after, and we talked about the use(lessness) of white supremacy. He said that, while white supremacy is useful in that it has vast monetary resources, at the end of the day, it's actually quite useless. I agreed, adding that the only way that white supremacy attains self-actualization, receives any legitimacy, and demonstrates any usefulness is through its partnerships with the BIPOC community. Otherwise, it's actually...vapid. So, it's important to remember that we can still make use of white supremacy. We can suck it dry of its resources. We can exploit it.

But, let's remember that, once we're done with it, once we've made use of it-to put it away, dripping and sloppy.

In the arts community, I find that some of us strive for validation from institutions. "Oh, look at me, I'm exhibiting at the AGO!"

I like to hang out with other artists who think otherwise. There's a lot of us who think that we are the secret sauce. We are the spice. We are the salt of the earth. Otherwise, it's just a plain, boiled piece of chicken.

On burdens:

Inevitably, institutional power will demand proof from the community that they (institutions) are, indeed, problematic and destructive. "Why does the community think we're complicit to Israeli apartheid? Where is the proof?" They'll say.

Let us not fall for this trap. The institution forgets that the community is under-resourced and over-worked. Worse: it is fully aware that we are under-resourced and it doesn't care. Because its function is to extract labour from the community, disregarding our desperate need for care and rest.

We already have a lot on our plates. Providing evidence of systemic harm is not something we should be doing. Mainly because it is as self-evident as the sun is hot. Instead, the onus is on the system to show evidence that they're not harmful. It is the institution's responsibility to show proof that it is not doing business with Elbit Systems and other Israeli weapons manufacturers.

Post-BLM:TO @ Toronto Pride 2016

FB memories. The rally was at the Special Investigations Unit (SIU), which have been rubber-stamping police killings. I remember going by myself. Alone. But I didn't feel lonely. I felt surrounded by community. Once there, at some point, someone handed me a cymbal. I let my rage speak through it, as loud as I could.

My activism hasn't been perfect. But I'm learning. And I don't mind looking like a fool. I don't mind being open about stumbling and muddling through. I don't mind being cringe. I actually don't give a fuck. I just want to express myself, and keep learning how to grow. Learning from everyone around me: old, young, human, other-than-human.

Here to risk it all.

Get Low - by O Side Mafia

Kalapati at Dawn

 

Early morning

Empty TTC train seats

Mid-September

A chill

As I step out,

walking along Dundas

past Sherbourne

Listening to

sober podcasts - 

lived experiences,

the climb

People speak

about falling off

the wagon.

So they hold on tight,

knuckles buckling,

with every tumble

we're taught shame.

We forget that we are

The Wagon

Poetry rises

Inspiration

comes easily

When you witness

the kalapati fly

at first light.

Fish in the sky

Love,

made material

Sniffies hottie (part 3)

Met the cutie again earlier in Sep. I have several videos from this meeting, so will need to post them in batches.

Fun with sexy top

This is my buddy Ryan (not his real name). I play with him quite regularly. We've even tag teamed several bottoms at his place during these summer months.