Friday, October 18, 2013

Confessions of an irreverant maverick billionaire playboy expat philanthropist social actor, Part I.

Grayson the Hack,

On the Road, day 4370,

120,000 miles later.

Salalah, Oman.


 
"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, sed dulcius pro patria vivere, et dulcissimum pro patria bibere. Ergo, bibamus pro salute patriae."

"It is sweet and dignified to die for the homeland, but it is sweeter to live for the homeland, and the sweetest to drink for it. Therefore, let us drink to the health of the homeland..."  Damn right. Now I just need to figure out how to say 'from abroad' in latin.


The Low Down.
LIFE IS HELL, and there's a start.
LIFE IS HELL, and there's an end.
Crawling back to paradise again.
There's nothing and everything for me here.
It's like Seoul 2003 all over again.
Alcoholic Kiwi roommate in the next room half moaning, half screaming “SHEEEBELLLLL”, the Korean equivalent of “FUUUUUUUUUUCK” as he suffers through the morning hangovers – but that was more like 2001 – I'm getting ahead of meself. The old Blake quote about how heaven and hell are places in the mind are old hat now, along with many other psychological survival mechanisms that've brought me this far through Heaven, Hell, and high water – and so much more. As a microcosmic holon, and a projection of my own consciousness on this plane, I wonder to what extent my subjective reality has influenced the big picture, and vice versa. Everything is connected, and the world is on the brink. Typical. The cycle has revolved as always. The beauty of infinity unwinding into coils of synergistic entropy.
So much for contingencies.
 
I won't apologize for length in this or the coming posts – it's been a year – and in that year – total freaking chaos and several near-death-experiences– so if the following CNF (creative non-fiction) yarns don't move you, shake you, make you think or feel - go take a nap or pound some strong black coffee and flick your switch back to 'human'. Maybe throw on some loud 70's AC/DC or heavy Type-O-Negative. Barry Manilow. Bob Marley. Neil Diamond. Black Sabbath. Get in the mood.   Dowhatchyagottado!!!
I'm in the nasty habit of not writing for a year, then saying too much. Forgive me reader if I do so now. “There's no government anymore, only corporations and whores” - not the kind of thing you want to be posting in FB. No worries, no-one in the know gives a fuck about anything anymore anyway (anyhow, anywhere). I'll just shut my sweet, sweet mouth and live in FEAR like everyone else. Nothing like immigration police asking you inconvenient questions when you're trying to get back into your own country. It's not like I'm trying to smuggle in Chinese supplied Kalashnikovs out of Oman (-out of Yemen - see 'Battle of Mirbat').  Just a few switchblades perhaps, for those late nights downtown when you never know what might be around the next corner as you stagger out of an alley, half cut on overpriced Canadian whiskey in downtown Vancouver. Or was that never knowing what might stagger out of the alley coming at you - other end of the blade – desperate times – how far do they push before you pull the trigger? Climb down in the trenches with the rest of the poor and take stock of your arsenal. Does it take the death of a close family member?  I hate being right. Naaaa - I LOVE being right, almost as much as I love anal cavity searches.  Sphinkter dilations. Butt-plugs.  The profits of DOOM. <<<Type-O-Negative!!>>> I'm just a good, honest, patriotic peace loving Canadian like yourself sir. “We ain't going home got nowhere to go!!”
Story of my expat life.

 
The new ride.  Totally stoked to have come upon a bobber chopped in Dubai, rode in the U.A.E., and finally brutalized by an adolescent 30 year old in Oman.  2 days of mechanic work during Eid Alhada and still couldn't ride it South to Salalah.  Top speed, 80km/h - yeah - this bike needs work.  Now to attempt shipping the bike and ordering parts impossible to procure here and make her purr like a kittycat, meeeooowww, 
I'm so effin' stoked... 
The New Future.
My future self has been speaking to me in dreams.  Things are going to get a little weird here in the Kosmic Nexus.  Maybe a little dark.  Fukushima could potentially explode and kill us all next month, slow death by global irradiation, and it's time I told a few stories about last year in Saudi Arabia, among other things.  Aliens are among us apparently, and the gig is up.  No-one has anything to lose anymore in these mad times, rich or poor - no matter of relativity or trillion dollar bank accounts will save anyone now - the ship is going down and captains of industry are going to have to swim like everyone else - the butterfly effect is a rhino in a china shop!!  So I have a few tales to tell before it all goes up in flames (mysterious deus ex machina lifts us out in the nick of time).  I'm also looking to monetize the blog a wee bit, but will keep it to a minimum.  My own trillion dollar bank account has been looking a bit thin lately, so looking to see if writing can do anything to alleviate that - being a killer guitar player isn't doing it for me these days, and I've come to another place where 'music is haram' - illegal even.  If I'm still drawing breath at the end of 2013, and these constant miracles of love and life persist, maybe I'll manage to somehow break even for once, 'Inshallah'.  Or, perhaps if you're looking for a singer/songwriter/guitarist for a touring rock band, I'll quit my EFL gig and relocate immediately.  Why not?   I should have the capacity to record again after an upcoming trip to Bahrain.  If you've read this far and find yourself at all amused, stay tuned for more in the coming days...deranged lyrics, tales of debauchery and astral travel(?!!), a book review (or two), language humor, travel tips for Asia and the middle east - pictures of places that have never and will never again hear AC/DC's 'You Shook me All Night Long'...etc.
A lot more...
Find your inner peace,
Breathe deep,
Contract, 
Expand,
Infinity.
-Grayson.

 Sunset swimming in Salalah, Oman - gorgeous.


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