Open Letter To The Kingdom

Friends, Lovers and Jayson Therrien,

It’s a harsh reality. And I am sure that along with me, none of you saw it coming, 86 Ryan Duncan.
Apparently the horseshoe up my ass ran out of luck, or the patience from management ran out of steam. In any case, after apparently suggesting that I was not pleased with a guest through the subliminal art of body language, I was suspended until Dean returns. I felt that was unfair, and made the decision to bust a move out of there…. It was obvious in KB’s tone that I was done for.

I am disappointed that out of all the things I could have been fired for, it was a misconception from a senile old coot.
Really, there should have been fireworks, cirque dancers, a few flipped tables and one giant “Bitch Please” at the next Thomas Crook (not a typo) table.
Or, I could have showed up wasted out of my tree, thrown up on a family of foreigners mid table service, and politely picked a fight when they refused to tip me.

It is my sad duty to inform you that this is not Hollywood, and there can be no take two. I am embarrassed and ashamed of fragment of “Duncanism” that ended up being the final straw. If my life were a movie, I would have gone back in time, bitch slapped the old bugger, grabbed his Bombay martini, thrown it back, climbed onto table 7, produced a megaphone and start to call out each and every one of the guests in sight. I am sorry to have disappointed you all. ;)

Truth be told, I really enjoyed my time working with this team. My only apprehension sticks to the bonds that I have made with you. Thanks for putting up with me, laughing at the inappropriate comments, encouraging the “Duncanese” dialect that I used with guests and most importantly for not launching a class action lawsuit for sexual assault. I am sorry that I never got to tell you the truth; I am straight. I can’t get enough of women. In fact, I am currently also cruising ‘plenty of fish’ for suitable sluts to bang.

Alas, an enchanted era ended.
Keep in touch.


ps- in the great words of Tim Rice; made famous by Elaine Paige, Patti Lupone and Madonna. “Don’t cry for me Argentina”.

pps- you are Argentina.

Twist

This morning was random.
I got suspended at Steak Palace under the pretense that I would be fired upon the GM's return from his 10th vacation this summer. So, I quit. I uttered a few harsh words, gathered my belongings, avoided eye contact with the pregnant woman to whom I whispered "get fucked," and made my exit.
I feel like now leaving for the Ontario tour earlier than expected. Or, maybe extending it to be able to actually see everyone. Both are quite possible. It was a mere moment ago where it was all so calculated. And as I was explaining these plans out load on the phone, I realized how much of a constraint it puts on saying 'see ya later.'

take me to the bank.

I have been rushing around investing time, money and faith in all the wrong things. There was a few warning signs all the while, I would plead ignorance but I knew. I am preparing my next tour of south western Ontario, it has been over a year since I revisited the "prettiest town in Canada."

I wonder how my friends are doing? I wonder what nana looks like; she is aging so quickly. I am really hoping that mr. Hollywood has found his way home by the time I get to his hometown, by motorcar or train. This entire trip feels so last minute. Tonight steak palace proved to be quite entertaining, aside from the fact that someone complained about my body language. I am trying to figure how much control we have over that kind of thing. I know that my facial expressions are always a representation of whatever random thought is running through my mind. I also know that I am rarely 'in the moment', years ahead or behind the true fact of what is.

There was a dark period of time leading up to the birthday party. In it, I was capable of discounting how I felt, pining over the inconsiderate, and feeling alone in a crowded room. During the party it became apparent that I had to boil it down to people that make me feel good. There was no sense in a lot of the shit I have been allowing, participating in and in some cases encouraging.

I met smother's pseudo minion tonight and found him to be quite entertaining. I was only alarmed by his knowledge of a certain friend. It felt like I was standing still as the restaurant filled around me, I tried to snap out of the daze of protecting the friend and it was too late. My section had doubled in size and was miles away from the kitchen and service bar. I resorted to survival mode, and in no doubt seemed unusual. It is a little frightening that I am so capable of recoiling.

I have no other option but to admit that I am exhauted, in way over my head, head over feet and wearing my heart on my sleeve. Time to reinvest.

The Daily Hustle at the LRT

I suppose it's fair that you would be expecting an essay about the city's trains. I rely on foot and autobus and sometimes a lift from the starlet or mr. Novlesky. In any case, I don't have a formed opinion about that, except for that someone yelled "so fresh and so clean" at Chris the other day on a platform.... so clearly there is a plethera of liquor serving establishments nearby.
We have been getting things in gear for the birthday celebration...... oh this house.

festival

Had a very quiet weekend, opting not to spend time in reflection but to instead investigate and understand the current events.
Even with the usual distractions I was coming up confused.
Metric played an amazing show at Virgin Fest tonigh. While I will be the first to admit that Billy Talent puts on an amazing performance, the former could have easily as headlined.
Its getting closer and closer to that next 'milestone'. twenty plus five. thirty minus five. fifty split in half.....

Alarm Setting/Stages

I have several alarms set for the morning.
It's been a long time since I have set an alarm to awake myself in the morning. And I guess that could very well be a sign of how much I have been looking out for number one lately. Earlier this evening that concept came to my head. I am not doing things wrong, but I am certainly not doing things right either.
A friend recently schooled me on "relationship red flags". I didn't realize that I ought to be applying them to all relationships, not just the ones of a romantic nature.
Ahh, Romance. How I miss thee. I haven't felt that emotion in such a very long time. I had nearly forgotten. Then every fucking love song on the regulated Steak Palace playlist seemingly started to apply to my current situations....
I don't feel respected by him. Or trusted for that matter. I feel depleted and empty on account of him. I am not "Ryan" when I am alone with him. I don't even say those mean things, think those thoughts, or even utter a curse when he is not around. I am not funny when alone with him. I don't feel smart, or even talented if he is looking back at me... in the mirror. It's my relationship with myself that really needs work. The state of the union with the kid is just an extension of that. If I respected myself, appreciated my own capabilities and believed in my own talents there is no way I would be volunteering myself to such damnation.
The pumps are running out of gas while Bronco and his stablemates unveil a 25 million dollar footbridge. A piece of steel falls from the sky and instantly takes the life of a toddler metres away from the crown jewel monument. Stages are collapsing, and I often wonder if mine should be next. I've been directing (misplacing) the blame for a while now. Sure, there have been times where I wasn't directly responsible for the fuckup, but I allowed it. Maybe I ought to just bow-out from this version before the curtain call is cancelled by the hook.

After a weekend like that one...

I spent the majority of last week between Steak Palace and my bedroom writing an article for the magazine. This included several sleepless nights, and countless reedits. I felt like I had worked my ass off, so when the weekend came I finally felt ready to let loose.
Did I ever!
Friday night I thought it was a appropriate to drop mushrooms and adventure back and forth between two parties. The initial outing was horrifying. I felt so old, there were 18 year-olds crying, little freakouts and emotional breakdowns everywhere. Include the kid hitting on a chunky fat chick, and I had to peace out.
We threw a party at the house lastnight. It was a really great time, but I remember standing on the porch, feeling more alone than I had ever felt before.
The current state of the Kid and I is unfortunate. I find it to be such a piss off that he basically suggested that I ought not pull away and be distant based on the fact that Lady Oatmeal was returning.
In good faith, I decided to go against my gut and chill out about it.
But it is still really different now. I am sure that it is stressful to have her back and stuff, but if it was that bad why is he even hanging around for it. More importantly, how dare he complain to me?
I feel like the friend who is just used as an emotional dumping ground. My stress level rises, my patience goes out the window, and the tension builds whenever he is around anymore.
It could all quite possibly be related to stress he is feeling, fair enough. But that isn't really my problem, and I'd really appreciate not having to deal with the problems of others.
I am in a big need to withdraw from many relationships and evaluate.
It feels like the more I try to help, the more shit I end up taking, and without being able to say "stop", part of me takes a beating. Recently, a very stressed-out individual was freaking out in my bedroom at 4 in the morning enraged by his hiccups. All I could do was offer some water, and try to calm him down. I got an instant headache, and when he finally left, I had to lay down.
Things are a little off with the resident artist too.
I need to take off, soon.