EPIC FRIENDSHIP : Upward, Against Gravity!

Earlier this evening, I sent a random Google® Talk instant message to my dear, dear friend and former Shanti Project Social Support Volunteer, Wallace "Wes" Smith: my WALL•E!! His status icon displayed as idle, so I assumed that, perhaps by an off chance, he'd be free to join me for a spontaneous chat: a followup to the random instant messaged salutation he sent to me over the weekend. Little did I know that my spirited loquacity would suddenly seem to turn into a prosaically soliloquized epic ode to our friendship, of legendary mythic proportion.  

I felt so inspired to lavish my friend with lips-puckered, ass-kissed licentious lauding that what he struggled to read of my tenaciously frenetic fervor in typing seemed so awfully awkward in the contrived sophistication of its aggressively astute and alliterative prosaism and sophistry; so much so that I feel obliged to commemorate this haphazardly sententious and Homeric confession of best-begotten brotherly love as a disastrously dimwitted, maniacally meandering monologue, rewritten and posted in its entirety, herein below.

Heya WALL•E!! You totally left me hanging the other day, after you IMed me and then ditched in 10 mins, never to return to chat that day... Are you gonna have any time today to chat it up with me a little? I "yearn" to talk with you!

VOLUNTEERISM : SOCIAL CO-DEPENDENCY & WITHDRAWAL

Adrienne asked about you today, when we were walking to collect my weekly income check from my payee at Lutheran Social Services... She started the conversation by asking me my thoughts on finding another Shanti Volunteer.

I told her in a straightforward, matter of fact tone, "Well, thing is, I'm not sure how I feel about investing so much of myself into what's presumably meant to be a very important relationship in my life, if its just gonna end all of a sudden, and I am forced to lose a friend... again. I just don't think I could do that, at this point in my life."

She responded by asking, "Is that what happened with Wes? I thought you two were supposed to have stayed connected. Wasn't that your intention?"

So, I answered, again in a stoic, almost careless voice, "Yes, it was. But, Wes kinda just stopped responding and pulled away."

Her reply: "Oh, I can see how that could have been frustrating... [pause] ...and disappointing."

What I failed to mention to her was that I too hadn't made such a concerted effort in pursuing a sustained friendship with you, so it may have come across as me shifting blame all on you, Wes, which I regret. So, I commit to clearing things up the next time I talk to her, this week.

I just want to apologize, and say that Adrienne reminded me today how much of a giant gaping hole was left in my life after we ended our "professional" relationship. I MISS YOU!

Now, go take care of that "not so minor" issue that you're dealing with at work.

PETTY CONTRIVANCES OF A PSYCHO-UNSTABLE MIND

IF YOU'RE SCROLLING, YOU CAN STOP HERE NOW AND START READING AGAIN...

While you're off addressing that "not so minor" work issue for the next few minutes; a moment or two well spent by you, but better left unspent by me, I'm sure... I'll just continue my garrulously loquacious, leave-nothing-left-unsaid, babbling banter 'bout all the bizarre and contrite contrivances of my psycho-unstable mind, which have me anxious and worried of late, so that you can or may have an intimate and long-over-due peek into my perilously perverse and pessimistic personality! Hmmmm... Where did I leave off RE: Adrienne? Oh yeah... somewhere along the lines of:

So, I will be clearing you of the blunt force of blame for our reprehensibly reciprocal responsibility and our mutual misgivings vis-à-vis our dually shared and accepted failure to sustain our friendship past the point of its "professional" end.

I just don't want Adrienne to think that you were a bad choice as a volunteer. Heck, Adrienne already knows (I presume – and, if she doesn't, then she damn well should!) what an integral role you have played in SAVING MY LIFE! I owe so much to Adrienne for having stuck to her gut at the get go by pairing us together as client and volunteer... as would-be, could-be, forever-and-always "friends!"

RESPLENDENCE : AS "TACKLE-ANY-THREAT" TRIUMPH

But, more so, I owe much of my present success – my "Thank God! I'm thriving," tackle-any-threat, thwart-all-trials-&-traumas, tremendously triumphant and resplendent resilience, reborn amidst the tumultuously twisted travails of my recovery, rehabilitation, reconstruction and restitution of self – to you, my dear friend!

At the get-go, my joyous journey toward good health and happiness was gladly guided by the gentle and giving hand of a stranger turned beloved confidant, who courageously ventured well past reason, into a realm beyond responsibility where the rightfully righteous regalia and splendor of spirit dwell, to share his wisdom with a wounded, woebegone, godforsaken gay boy wanting of nothing more than exactly that which was delivered: LOVE!

My WALL•E!! Wallace "Wes" Smith
Facebook Photo, posted: June 16, 2010
© COPYRIGHT 2011 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

SISYPHEAN STRUGGLE : AS PANTHEON TO FRIENDSHIP

I OWE ALL THIS FOR WHICH I HAVE TO BE THANKFUL TO YOU, MY DEAR FRIEND!

That is why I feel obliged now to persevere through the challenges of time and temerity, of entangled temperaments, of trials and tribulations brought 'bout by the blatantly bold, always bogus and unbecoming bastions of best-not-a-brick-wall-between-us "business."

To conquer – in a Sisyphean struggle steep & unsound enough to shake all shame, pride and courage from me – the cold, heartless and selfish demands of "convenience," in order finally to build the perfect pantheon to our still living, still thriving and resilient friendship, up atop the mythic mountains set between us

Let us together carefully carve, with courage & compassion, this megalithic monument to ME & MY WALL•E!! right from the Acherontic behemoth brimestone boulder that we together were once forced to push persistently past a presumed point of no return...

In a moment of inspiration, I lay claim to the rolling rock of our friendship as the necessary foundation of a forever extant and extraordinarily exultant temple, built to honor our two chance-selfless, yet yearning, souls. Thus, ad infinitum, we witness our two souls, serendipitously united by the unbreakable, ne'er tarnished bonds of brotherhood, made beautiful by perfectly platonic LOVE AND DEVOTION...

THE LACHRYMOSE, MOST LEFT SIDE OF MY MIND

LOVE AND DEVOTION duly deemed determined to destroy the could-be, would-be reckless and caustically corrosive contrivances of that aforementioned obstacle we've confirmed unspoken to speak of as "convenience." Agreed? And, don't worry, Wallace... I myself do not know what to make of all of this bombastic banter, either. It's all just "spewage" straight through the levies of the "last-ditch, last-chance, leftover" and lachrymose, most left side of my mind.

There, where my creative compass spins sporadically lost in all directions, a lasting light continues to shine. Despite the trifling trepidation and turpitude that has threatened to thwart the forever flamboyantly flagrant and fervid flame of our friendship, such incessant fear and intimidation still shall not stomp out our fire, nor even wash it away with waves of wearily woeful worry and doubt.

CONCEDING TO THE "CONTRIVANCES OF CONVENIENCE"

At very best, be it not 'bout time that we together concede to the "contrivances of convenience," admitting altogether that this could-be, would-be, whenever, wherever compelling of raucously chaotic commotion – preposterous pandemonium that continues to create a chasm of disordered discord straight through the center of our still quite celebrated and cherished friendship! – must be quenched, harnessed, muffled, exhausted, breached, and bridged before our bonds be beyond all possibility or chance of reconstruction, rehabilitation, recovery, and as well as – of course! – of redemptive restitution, in their own right?

My response to such discordance, as I hope would be yours as well in return, is this: THE TIME IS RIPE FOR US AT LEAST TO EXHAUST ALL OPTIONS!! The time is ripe for us to explore all earthly passages toward a point of position, where such a presumably implausible possibility of peace together might take its proper place ahead of all our pettily plebeian, yet boulder-like and burdensome, "CONTRIVANCES OF CONVENIENCE!!" Yes! The same phrase is refrained, as if for effect again, with emphatic force; of course!

I myself chose to remain courageously committed to the notion that naught near nothing aught keep us – Matt(e)o and his wholeheartedly happy-ever-after, astounding and amazing friend, WALL•E!! – from catapulting together the ungodly gargantuan boulder up atop the snow-capped cresting summit of a good-godly majestic mountain, there, where we have been meaning for a mighty long time to leave our lasting mark. Only this time, the behemoth rolling rock of our Sisyphean struggle should no longer conveniently contrive to create could-be, would-be impenetrable barriers and obstacles between us; instead, however, our mark shall be sculpted from that stone into the shape of a pantheonic monument, as previously described.

A SPLENDID TORCH : OUR STILL LIVING, THRIVING STORY

Tell me, dear, close friend and confidant – you, who once bravely buttressed the stumbling, fumbling, crumbling facade of my "fagged-out, ferocious, Fog City Freak Show," with naught near nothing more than mighty words of wisdom and a regular barrage of hugs...

Are you ready, willing and able now – dear friend! – to join in my cause courageously, compassionately, and without any cute and quaint "contrivances of convenience," to excavate, dust off, cleanse, polish and restore to its resilient shine the splendid torch of our still-to-be-told, living, thriving and triumphant story?

For, this story of ours, and ours alone, is the only chance we have together to inculcate our worse-off and ignorant brethren, by inspiring in them, as exemplars, an understanding and appreciation of the importance of our stolidly shared, striving, and thriving efforts to extend the life of brotherly bonds between friends well far past a few expectantly forgotten farewells, and all the way infinitely onward and upward, toward Everest or Olympia; there, where every man atop each his own majestic mountain may finally rest together, basking in the company of other likely heroes.

With this, our legendary tale of triumph through travail so quite unlike and contrary to others' staid or saturnine stories of dissolute dysphoria, we may finally and forthwith fill our heavenly hubristic hearts with the ne'er forsaken but full-force fuel of the forever-lasting flames of friendship: a fire from whose embers the diamond-crystalline core essence of our energetic enthusiasm, our exultant exuberance, and of our dutifully indestructible do-good-only devotion to and love for one another erupts as a miraculously mythical, flame-tailed fowl aflight.

A PHOENIX a'FIRE ... OF FRIENDSHIP!!

From the smouldering ashes of what could have been our failed, forgotten folly, "A PHOENIX a'FIRE ... OF FRIENDSHIP" shall burst forth in explosions of celestial brilliance and be reborn into so-white-hot-she's-red, resplendent glory.

This fiery immortal and all-knowing animal-prophet will take flight with unmet and outstanding wisdom, through the telling of our tale as an oracle of obligation and duty for those few who, wanting such to sustain the boundless and unbroken bonds of brotherhood, shall serve so many could-be, would-be countless, courageous others, as god-sent, spellbinding, and brilliantly living beacons of fire's light: the immaculately inextinguishable exemplars of faith in friendship and devotion to hope!

We must share with the as-of-yet ill-fated throngs of death-defyingly isolated, outright tormented and lonely others of the world our own unique unhampered hope in happiness, exponentially multiplied by the mutually endless and perfect power of our platonic love!

For, it is now, in writing and reading this quasi-Homeric epic enunciation of our shared story, that we bear witness to the very real possibility, the probability or perhaps even persistent truth which, pondered in properly mythic proportion, tells a time-willed and wistfully whimsical tale of the forever-lasting and eternal life of our fraternal love; such that is rightfully redeemed through the rapturous resilience of friendship's bond. 

NEAR TO UTOPIA : DANCING UPWIND OF DOOMSDAY

Through reincarnate duet dancing, such brotherly bonds that we share do tenderly touch our flat-footed heels and toes to the dew-dropped golden petals and emerald green glowing grasses of heavenly Elysium.

In our loving embrace of a fraternal order, our spirits sprint a fervent and inflamed, mighty marathon heat: a mad, mad mercurial dash upwind of Doomsday! Together, we freely frolic forward – as desultorily dithyrambic dancers do! – to unfold the footprints of those propitious gods who unknowingly lead us ever more near to Utopia. 

OUR WILDLY WOVEN & TENDERLY UNTANGLED STORY

It is this, our untold story – composed of a tightly wound, full-colored dreamcoat of woolen, silk and linen threads – which we must commit to continue telling, not only through its own wildly wondrous weaving, but also eventually through its tenderly touching but tough-knuckled untangling, as time doth pass.

We must commit to continuing our story, born of our passionately platonic and brotherly bonds of fraternal love and friendship. As long as there still remain even the most random and unreasonable threads of debauched, clashing hues to be woven into the coat of arms that sheaths and enshrines the time-worn epic corpus of our friendship against all brief abeyance and absconding of pages, we must never thread sparingly the spindle but only weave on with gusto, grace and gratitude.

Even now must our story continue, as – or, at last, until! – we stumble together surefooted, in our first few eager steps, high o'er the chaotically libidinous currents of the rivers Acheron and Styx. May we courageously coax ourselves onward, in our tumultuously trying trek, to conquer the Sisyphean mountains and the 'bout-to-be-bested boulders before us.

Let us gladly, gracefully, and with genuinely gregarious gratitude, thank gods for the heavenly happenstance and dear twist of luck that brought us together...

MS. ADRIENNE ELIAS : OUR SOLE HEROIC INTERMEDIARY

Or was it more, perhaps? Yes, indeed, I posit proudly and am pleased to say that we owe all for which we are thankful – which has made us far more fortunate than all but a few of our brave brethren esteemed and emboldened by love! – to the arguably naive and innocent, albeit wonderfully wise and bright-witted, instinct of our sole heroic intermediary: she, who carefully and cajolingly navigated us both each in the direction of the other... God bless Ms. Adrienne Elias! She, who brought us together!

Dear friend, I challenge we two to courageously commit as well to gratitude. Let us duly express our thanks to that "hip and happenin' queer grrl" from whose innate social instinct and stellar performance on the job was born serendipitously our most saliently stoic, solemn, and sometimes flat-out fervidly phlegmatic bond of brotherhood!

NOTE: Please, leave room for some "limp-wristed, fagolicious, and freaked-out," irreverently licentious PIZAZZ! Lest we forget to exaggerate such sibilant fricatives with our good, godawful "gay lisp!!" Hehehe! Even if I've added in an ounce of my own outrageously unrelenting and vulgarly splenetic sense of salacity... 

In honor and respect of the immensely lasting impact of Ms. Elias's offhand, off-the-cuff, but consequently on-target decision to pair the two of us as Shanti client and volunteer, may we permit ourselves to be empowered, me and you: Matt(e)o and WALL•E!! (a.k.a., Wallace "Wes" Smith), to continue our journey together!! 

PARADISE : LOST, FOUND & RIGHTLY RECLAIMED AGAIN

May we only pause to ponder past pitfalls and triumphs, as we resolutely commit still to climbing up skyward, toward the heavens, where at last we may leap together and dive dancing into the blissful beauty of the full-blooming and fruitful fields of our own emancipated Eden: Paradise Lost, Found, and Rightly Reclaimed Again!! by you, able-bodied and by me, with my "miscontoured" mouth and cane!! 

THE INDOMITABLY STURDY STANCE OF OUR FRIENDSHIP

Dear friend, Mr. Wallace "Wes" Smith, won't you please take your place once again right next to me? Would you so kindly permit me please to pass my arm under yours, so as to lock us into an indomitably sturdy stance, poised shoulder to shoulder, heal to heal, ready and raring to risk all our "contrivances of convenience" and to step simultaneously a few feet forward, toward our best-begotten yet unfurled future of good fortune in friendship, as confidants and family, as brothers and ... best friends? 

IN CLOSING : FRANTICALLY FUMBLING FOR WORDS

Eager to know all the thoughts which my epic prolix prosaism has left you to ponder, I now frantically fumble over a proper closing salutation, so that you may have the chance even to consider a reply!

Despite the tremendous chasm that has been carved between us by time, distance, and yes, even "convenience," I continue to cherish the profound loyalty and trust, which still – I hope! – defines our personal relationship, together.

Furthermore, with utmost confidence in the potential of genuine friendships, like ours, to remain resilient in their compassionate and caring capacity to reap reason from duly deserved recompense, restitutory requital, and redemption. Despite things gone a wry, I do very much happily hold you in the highest esteem. 

SISYPHEAN MYTH : A REFRAINED MOTIF OF RESILIENCE

While I wish we could be closer and have more time to spend together in each other's company, I still am very much devoted to seeing this expansively epic, Sisyphean myth through to the end of our long and illustrious, sometimes challenging, but always courageously and compassionately careful, caring and, of course, carefree journey together through life.

Wherever the rock of our friendship may roll, I hope, plan, and pray to be by your side, as we toil over the physical, intellectual and emotional mechanics of putting that damned boulder back into motion against gravity, by pushing and prodding it to the zenith of life's myriad mountains. With honest and unhampered hubris enough to mimic Homeric myth, may we own for ourselves together the ferociously thunderous and omnipotent force of faith, courage and pride in humanity; in other words, let us proclaim our pride in the human kind: a kind in which the God of all gods so often dares to boast believing! 

May we, like the God of all gods, one day boast, as unabashed and deep-bounded brothers do, of that piously peculiar Promethean fire, which has lit our flaming-feathered wings – where wax once was! – and which has lifted us into flight, skyward toward the heavens. There, settled contentedly into the soft, sumptuous comforts of Elysium, shall we have the untried and true contours of our still boyish busts carved out of alabaster marble stone, and beset – as if by birthright! – with perfectly pantheonic and divinely illustrious laurels dipped and gilded in gold.

Together, after a long life of shared stories – good or bad, iniquitously ignominious or spectacularly resplendent and successful – may we conquer all mythic challenges that good-natured guardians chose to cast o'er we two as shadows of sullen gloom, by holding tight to our godlike friendship with a powerful grip of fervent loyalty and trust, by climbing and cresting mountains with boulders before us, and by flying sky high toward the heavens as reborn birds of glory, with inflamed wings. 

TRIUMPH : AS CROWNED LEGENDARY EXEMPLARS

Ultimately, together, we will triumph and be crowned legendary exemplars of bravely bold and beautiful brotherly bonds, as we gawk and goggle mockingly in the face of those fastidiously funereal and dolefully despondent, godawful, good-for-nothing naysayers who near as never relent in their efforts to foul our flight and drag us down from the skies into petulantly vile, outright opprobrium. 

So, join me! Or not! Dare I fly, trek or climb this heroic journey alone? I pray to the all-present, all-knowing and all-powerful divine forces which guide us through life, with or without compliance, from birth to rebirth a thousand times fold, until finally we transcend all earthly contrivances and courageously trek through a frenetically fantastic phantasmagoria of all things transmundane.

Only then, once triumphed and transformed, may we yet be transeuntly transfigured into incomprehensibly perfect and indubitably divine demigod creatures meant to compliment the cosmically stellar, celestially surreal Olympian menagerie, where all other blessed, immortal chimeras eternally rest and reside. Join me? Lest I falter and fall, alone!

IN ANTICIPATION OF YOUR LOSS OF WORDS

As I anticipate your loss for words apropos of your likely quite surprised, yet delightfully honored and impressed reaction to my, as stated, ranting and railing "Homeric prosaism," I leave you with a poignantly simple and straightforward request: Please, respond if you would like, but only at your leisure!

The rest is better left unwritten, and shall stay that way, safely kept in the caressing arms of angels, at least until a time when the echoing voice of prophecy doth guide me (or you!) to give into garrulity once again and to wrench open our hearts with words of epic grandeur.

As one would say in French, my surrogate mother-tongue: À Très Bientôt, mon cher ami!! – Until So Very Soon, my dear friend!!

Ever most fondly,
Matthew

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
matthew@qherekidsf.com

San Francisco, CA USA
[20110601T234738PST]

RE: LONG LOST FRIEND!

Indeed, “long lost,” but never in a moment forgotten! Throughout the span of a decade, with a mind tempered (or tormented) by “what-once-was” well-wishing nostalgia, remembrances and a deep longing desire to redeem the unearthly, unending exuberance of youth, I have often found my thoughts drifting towards you, my baby blue-eyed, porcelain-paled, lusciously lipped lil’ lady friend of times far past & gone. Indeed, “friend,” but oh so much and so many things more!

April Manteris, you were my Perestroika as Millennium Approaches; you were one above many of my arch-guardian Angels In America! How fitting that in my later, more recent life, I would battle with disease-induced malediction & delusions of messianic manic psychosis, much like the enlightened torment of Prior Walter told by Tony Kushner in his “Not-Yet-Conscious, Forward Dawning,” damned devilish drama staged as “A Gay Fantasia on National Themes.”

My own, personal, proprietary and unprecedented “Gay Fantasia,” told as follies of the mind and frailty of the body, was rife buttressed by more universal themes. In a demented state of holier-than-thou HIV/AIDS-instigated happenstance and insanity, I foresaw a full faith reconciliation of all conflicting religious around the world; the real-time cultivation of a post-apocalyptic, new-growth Garden of Eden; and my transsexual impregnation as an irrationally self-proclaiming, prophetic “Gift of God” with Christ Child incarnate.

Delusions of near godly grandeur galloped as chariots of fire along the strangely strung-out or awkwardly wrought and wired synapses of my parasitically enslaved psyche toward a new and evermore illustrious Elysian Fields. I was a hopeful, kindhearted and jubilant psychotic; not a criminally paranoid sociopath.

In my lonely, lachrymose, lunatic madness, I believed that all humankind would fall down under the watchful rule & gaze of intergalactic warring Angel/Alien brigades, led by Michael, Gabriel, Beelzebub, and Lucifer, only finally to be throttled full flight into a world far more beautiful, blissful and serene that anyone could have ever imagined before.

Funny thing for me though, during my drug-delayed, disease-induced delusional psychosis, I actually possessed the superhuman scope of mind and intellect to imagine the unimaginable as actual and real! What a harrowingly exhilarating experience! Moreover, you were there with me in spirit, all along the way.

For, I was convinced that you, April: my dream dancing “tell-it-to-snow” Eskimo named Harper Pitt, were suffering from a simultaneously paralleled, prophetic psychosis there, on your side of the world.

In my dreams, I imagined our union as beleaguered, but still sun-beaming and boisterous, biblical brethren, once each of us (and countless other young-spirited saints, psychics and soothsayers) had rightfully sown the heavenly seeds of a new beginning for our separate communities, cultures and societies on this dying-to-life, righteously reincarnate Earth of ours.

So much coincidental quizzicality has shaped the “nefand, sullen languid stories of my last-ditch, last-chance life,” including the serendipity of that first meeting of our two minds.

Our two submedially mature yet still quite sycophantic student souls were somehow, at some point, so mutually confounded, mesmerized and inspired by the truly enlightened intimacy we would go on to share, that we often (if I remember correctly!) smothered each other in self-obsessed, other-opposed & ostracized narcissism.

I fondly reminisce, remember and recall just exactly how we together, as the closest of friends, dealt only in the immaculate intimacy of trusted truth (or truthful trust). Tantamount to our unfettered ferocity of faith in one another, such truth tightly intertwined our hearts & souls together in both telltale-tangled threads of deliberately disgruntled dysfunction or malcontent malaise and sumptuously bittersweet stories of irrational, unreasoned, and misguided boy/girl romance gone awry.

Truth is, all throughout our first two years of undergraduate, I tormented myself terribly in confused and conflicted recognition of the dichotomically opposed binary between mainstream, most fortunate and “full-worth-the-effort” male-female love and its exact opposite: gay love, or “queer” love, since there was nothing “gay” about such love for me, during those years, or even ever after!

Truths is, that one occasion of my coming out that you so fondly remember in email, could have panned out in two very different ways; and trust me, when I say that you would not at all have been pleased by the alternate “outcome” of such proceedings!  WINK! WINK!

Oh! I should scream it from my rooftop! I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, APRIL MANTERIS! I always have been and always will be! Never once have I not regretted the decision I made to proclaim my homosexuality to the world, because all that led to was me being pigeonholed in to a nasty, putrid, pestilent and perverse segment of society, where I subsequently succumbed to a lifestyle of depression, then deviance, then drugs, then disease, then delusions, then death, then disfigurement.

And, all that’s been done to me without my ever having witnessed once again the trusted truth (or truthful trust) of such mutually equitable & reciprocal platonic intimacy as we once shared, let alone anything remotely resembling the romantic!

So, that said, I’ll conclude in recognition of how immensely blessed I am to have found you meandering back into my life with such a generously opened mind and heart, with such forgiveness of the trifles of the past, and with such dignified poise, to reclaim our friendship from the exact point where we once left it off.

I welcome you into my life with widely opened arms, April! Moreover, I do ever so hope that we can rekindle that platonic intimacy that once existed between the two of us and that defined our very profound and beautiful friendship!  I look forward to a future with you in it, and I hope you do of me, as well…

With fond memories…
And, In fond regards,

Most sincerely…
Your dear friend,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard

matthew@qherekidsf.com

http://www.qherekidsf.com

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

San Francisco, CA USA

[20110401T223247PT]

Romance's Ripe New Reason...

Love Is Like A Flower | © COPYRIGHT {peace&love♥} | 23rd May, 2008 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Accessed March 21, 2011 by QHereKidSF (a.k.a. Matthew D. Blanchard) on Flickr®

Inspired by the well-wishing of a college mentor: Adjunct Theater Arts Professor & Acting Coach, David Doersch, whose warmhearted wisdom woven into a few simple words beamed bright as day in my mind, I read his "Happy SPRING to All!" message on Facebook, while sitting blinded by the light of my computer monitor in the dark of well-past dusk.

Despite the dark and dreary evening that has befallen & befogged all of San Francisco, my heart & mind were filled with the warmth of the season by these, his welcoming words. And thus, such warmth, well-wishing & wisdom from such a distant friend & role model performance artisan or craftsman inspired in me a deep desire to express creatively exactly how I gladly envision the season to blossom into rebirth such beauty as romance in spite of ridicule, and love in light of sensually dew-dampened lust & longing.

What a beautifully bespoken first few lines of lyrical rhymes & reason have I set to poetry, as my poem is presented here poised below a quite provocatively romantic photograph, which I found via a Flickr® Photostream™ Key Word Search of "buttercups." I am pleased to recognize the talents of an anonymous artist: peace&love♥, and to thank the photographer for making available their significantly sophisticated & valuable works of photographic art for blogging direct from Flickr®.

I do hope that in posting Love Is Like A Flower, I will earn a right to download this particular image by permission of the photographer, him or herself, because I'd very much like to have this photo image at my disposal for future noncommercial & unaltered, shared-alike use. But, we'll just have to wait and see on the outcome of that such request. For now, I am still ever so proud at least to present the poem I wrote in response to David Doersch's Facebook® remarks and inspired by this photograph posted above.

SPRING! SPRING! What beauty this season brings
From slothful doted days to a few love-labored flings
That be right wondrous, yet ne'er more as pleasing,
As day’s blessed birth doth savor splendid seedling:
Few to many-petalled gorgeous golden blossoms
Of four-leafed clovers and buttercups so lithesome,
That doth glimmer, glow and shimmer as none before
Upon the tender-to-touch bosom in beauty’s open door
Of a fair merry-weathered, mischief-minded maiden
For whom the goodly fruits of spring be not forbidden.

Here upon doth the season's sweetly stunning affect
Forever bold and bravely full on forthwith reflect
The delightfully bright and brilliant sun’s fine speck
That doth in gleaming traces of sparkled beauty bedeck
Such sweet-nectar dew upon her delicately dimpled neck,
To be kissed off and caressed by a truly “très beau mec,"
As the only daring, dashing young dapper son "français"
Who doth so love, adore, long for and desire with to stay
The dewdrop damsel and her dazzling buttercup breasts,
As she, with toes dipped wet in water’s tiding crests,
Doth also long for and desire love — come what may!
Thus, so flowering, a fine romance is born this day!

Two lovers dance to life, in light of unending union,
The colorful reflections of romance's ripe new reason
Wound and woven, as a festive time-tinted silk ribbon,
Round the maypole, at the hands of all towns-children.
While the joking jester doth flagrantly flout Love’s luster,
His fickle halfhearted flaunter be echoed by such laughter.
Still yet two lovers dance ‘til lips tenderly touch as one,
Thus, their longed-for love doth live from dusk 'til dawn;
And be no more foolish, frolicsome, dumb nor dafter.
Than desire be that doth last still more ‘til then thereafter.

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
matthew@qherekidsf.com
http://www.qherekidsf.com
http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

San Francisco, CA USA
[20110321T200037PT]

MY BRO' BRAD: Comeuppance as Prodigal Son

When U.S. Navy Musician First Class Bradley Blanchard was in his adolescence, he was a typically rambunctious deviant child who liked to disobey authority at every opportunity he could find and with all the force & fervor he could ever possibly muster. As his younger brother, with a fork scar slashed down my belly to prove it, I often was on the receiving end of the blunt blows of his teenage boyhood violent rage.

YOKOSUKA, Japan (Feb. 1, 2010) - Musician 1st Class Bradley Blanchard of Virginia Beach, Va., plays a trombone during a 7th Fleet Rock Band rehearsal held at Fleet Activities Yokosuka. The 7th Fleet Rock Band, ORIENT EXPRESS, deploys with USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19) and supports events throughout the entire U.S. Navy Seventh Fleet area of operations

http://www.c7f.navy.mil/imagery/galleries/monthly/2010/02-February/index50.htm

February 01, 2010, U.S. Navy Photo by Mass Communication Specialist Mike R. Mulcare; 

(accessed 13:45 UTC March 19, 2011 via http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Navy_Music_Program)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:C7FBand_MUBlanchard_20100201.jpg

Call it angst or anxiety over never having amounted to much as a child, compared to his overachieving brown nose of a brother! Or else, call it simple recognition of & rebellion against the authorities' inability to control, confound or even cajole into question the genius of his intellectual & artistic talents!! Whatever possessed my brother to give up in school, act up at home, fall into miscreant criminal behaviors, or in the very least to joist a fork into me just above my bellybutton, we may never know! But, I do have my suspicions...

You see! It is my understanding (albeit naively biased and begrudged under boyhood battery) that my one-year older brother, Bradley, came across as an awkward, tubby, ill-tempered & tough-taught teenage trouble child by choice, as if simply to cover up his own quite coveted prodigal musical talents, as well as to scoff in the face of his younger brother's exhausting track record of academic excellence & extracurricular achievements from early elementary school through to high school graduation.

As I'd expect to hear from any critic on the matter, it would be inappropriate, pompous & self-conceited of me, that younger "better than, but best unbegotten" brother of his, to venture any conclusion which conceives to acknowledge and/or appraise (however lowly) the pantheonic pedestal upon which I was so uncomfortably perched by parents, teachers, and fellow pupils alike.

A comparison between the idolatrous accolades & aplomb that I received as an academically overachieving adolescent and the unfortunate reputation Brother Bradley earned for being a lower life do-dumb deviant denigrate who didn't know the a-squared from b-squared or c-squared of the Pythagorean Theorem, or else, who didn't care too much to make it known what he really knew for fear of risking his supposed illicit & ill-natured set of mores & morals revealed as quite the opposite, would serve a great injustice against my brother, while only reinforcing my naive bias as his battered, yet so long beloved, younger brother.

For, my big, bold, daring & now quite dapper do-good brother, was then during childhood (just as we all might witness him to be today) quite as prodigal in his musical talents, as I was in my scholastic, artistic & leadership-related achievements. Unlike his young brother, Matthew Blanchard, however, big brother Bradley didn't cringe and crave for the positive affirmations of attention & accolades as a child, adolescent or teenager.  Bradley was kindly humble enough to recognize that recognition & a reputation of positively perfect accomplishment was all I lived for as a student; and, therefore, it seems to me that at an early age, Bradley relinquished any possibility of positive achievement to me, the younger of us two, out of mere kindness of heart and perhaps even in a awkwardly silent attempt to express love to his kindred spirit, his family, who forever so seemed his foe.

Nevertheless, true talent cannot (should not) forever go unnoticed or unappreciated by the masses. For my elder brother, Bradley, recognition & reputation for his prodigal musical gifts came only finally when he made what should have been a quite difficult decision between serving six-to-nine month stints underwater as a nuclear technician of a U.S. Naval submarine or traipsing around the globe on a better-than-average rock star salary as a U.S. Navy Musician First Class and lead vocals of numerous U.S. Navy Rock Ensembles throughout the World.

The decision between the substantially better pay-grade and advancement patterns of an enlisted submarine tech or the hyped up happiness and good humor incumbent upon a career in music for the Navy was instead quite simply a matter of greater-than & less-than logic for my brother, who valued his happiness (obviously) well over his pay rate or the terms of his possible rank advancement. Obviously, my very intelligent, very impassioned musical prodigy of a brother chose love over logic; such was the logic behind his decision to follow the passion which had dutifully & determinedly defined the unfathomably focused good fortune that befell him at every awkwardly successful instance of achievement during his young life, while in the arms of music.

In honor of my elder brother, Bradley D. Blanchard, I am privileged to offer this living testament to the tremendous talents possessed by this one damned terrific young man. Not only is Brad an extraordinary father and husband, much loved by his wife & son, but he is also an ungodly gifted musician, who could, should & will one day take the world by storm; what if not to the likes of America's next popular television talent search or else by the grace of one or two generous celebrity patrons of his art who might promote and make possible an on-air performance by my brother, as lead vocals of the U.S. Navy Commander, 7th Fleet Rock Band (Twitter® - @C7FBand / Facebook® 7th Fleet Band) : ORIENT EXPRESS.

U.S. Navy 7th Fleet Rock Band: ORIENT EXPRESS (August 7, 2010; YokosukaFSD, JAPAN)

"I'm Yours," lead vocal by MU First Class Bradley D. Blanchard

http://youtu.be/CnTbD5bCmyc

 

It is with great pride that I post this video of my brother singing lead vocals to "I'm Yours," with the U.S. Navy Commander, Seventh Fleet Rock Band: ORIENT EXPRESS. I remember vividly the first time I heard my brother sing. It was on the occasion of my visit from Florence, Italy (where I was studying graphic design, at the time) to Naples, Italy (where my brother was stationed with the U.S. Navy Band, at the time). 

We were both in our mid-twenties. I was reeling from a "GREAT DEPRESSION," brought on by my then relatively recent sero-conversion and diagnosis as HIV-positive, though I didn't muster up the courage to tell my brother this until after the trip down south.  My brother on the other hand was glowing happily, unabashedly in his youth, and tried with all his might to share his happiness with me, to let it roll off his husky, well-built shoulders on to mine.

His manner of sharing was unique to me; I'll say that, in the least.  Bradley invited me as a special guest to a gala performance showcase for his U.S. Navy Rock Band somewhere up the western coast of Italy, near about to Cinque Terre. The band set up amongst the lavish & luxurious decor of the sumptuous entertainment hall at a hanky-spanky swanky five-star Italian riviera hotel, and I was their surrogate helper or stagehand for the day...

Once the equipment was set up, the musicians (not the vocals, i.e., my brother & his female counterpart) began to rehearse. I settled in to a deeply intriguing discussion about my brother's soon no longer to be boyhood lifestyle contrivances with the wife of one of his military cohorts, but was to my astounding delight brashly interrupted by the sweet, melodic, perfect on pitch and in tone sounds of my brother's voice singing "Stand By Me!" That was the cover number with which he chose to open the show, and he honored me in singing it, "I dedicate this song to my only brother... God knows I love ya'Man!!" God knows, I love him, too!!

So, now that I've gone ahead and made this video available to my blogsphere of fans & followers, either via http://www.qherekidsf.com or else via my Facebook Profile Notes at http://facebook.com/mblanchard79, then I hope to receive comments & feedback from all y'all folks out there with opinions on the matter that I might maybe could share with my big Southern Puppy Brother, Bradley!! Please be courteous & kind; although, critical remarks are not uninvited!! I look forward to hearing back from some gentle, tasteful souls!! Cheers! Ciao & Namaste: I bow to the gods with you...

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

Matthew D. Blanchard

matthew@qherekidsf.com
http://youtube.com/qherekidsf
http://www.qherekidsf.com
http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

San Francisco, CA USA
[20110319T07:4513PT]

ON MOTHERHOOD: "Nature vs. Nurture"

While researching the meaning and popularity of my given name: Matthew, in preparation & as subtext for a monologue that I'm preparing for my Sins Invalid Artists In Residence (A.I.R.) Showcase performance, I "stumbled upon" the website, CafeMom.com, which conveniently catalogs baby names by category, popularity, date and by other distinguishing factors; the website also provides a social networking platform for expectant and/or experienced mothers.

The following is the complete text, which was intended to serve as my profile discussion introducing my puppy dog, TANNER'baby, as my first and only child. I discovered only after a few good hours of creative writing, when I tried to confirm my profile on CafeMom.com, that the website prohibited any discernibly male-gendered persons from accessing their social network as a member.

Nonetheless, I feel it worthwhile for me to post what I had written for their website, for the simple fact this, my essay: ON MOTHERHOOD, indeed reveals some very pertinent & potent aspects of my psyche, as they be related to relations with my own mother. In fact, what was supposed to be a passage limited to 500 words, turned into a torturously contemptuous tirade against my own mother.

I'll be straight forward with my introduction here, for I admit frankly & freely that this essay against my mother can easily be interpreted as damned vehemently vicious, venomous and cruel, if read out of context and incompletely; however, MIND YOU! This is a happy story!

Truth be told! This is a story founded on a sincere desire to love and be loved, to restore a stable, healthy, worthwhile and meaningful relationship between mother and son. All the pejoratives and derogatory vocabulary I use to describe my mother come from a place of immense sympathy, empathy, and love.

True, it is inappropriate to call such deprecation empirical, however constative my utterances may seem; being that these words are mere manifestations of my own severely biased, negative judgments and opinions of my mother. Despite the harsh tone and timbre of my words, I freely, confidently & gratefully admit that my mother's love for me (and her other children) is truly immense! 

In fact, I would even go as far as to argue that my mother's love of her children is so intensely, unfathomably immense that, just as the scope of Man's intellect is far too limited to contain and comprehend a truly complete understanding of the Sublime, the sublime love my mother has for her children fully exceeds the capacity of her imagination, emotions and intellect.

For this sad fact, my mother truly suffers, and I'd be damned if I didn't wish things different for her, for me, for us. Likewise, this sad fact defines and buttresses my own sympathy and love for my dear, dear mother, MOM!! God bless her, endlessly!! I pray.   

Before I begin serving up pleasantly sycophantic praises of my oh so adorable, high-energy & affectionate amber-haired Terrier-mixed mutt, permit me please to describe the context within which a 30-something, single, San Francisco Fog City gay man, like myself, presumes to find new friends amongst CafeMom.com members.

As a young queer, but closeted, college-bound over-achiever of teenage years, I sadly suffered the wrath of dysfunction born of my own mother's unmonitored, unmitigated manic depressive alcoholic binging & blackouts. Thus, I forcibly distanced myself mentally, emotionally, and yes, even physically (i.e., geographically) from my seriously sick and psychologically frail single mom.

Coincidence smiled slack-jawed some thirteen or fourteen years ago, when I first mandated distance from & distrust of maternal wrath & reign in my life. Concurrent to the disappearance of my mother, my benevolently better-intentioned & bigger brained educators innocently indulged and thus cemented my caustically cautious contempt for the schizoaffective, severely alcoholic & codependent maternal forces of my absentee and/or aggressively antagonistic family.

My teachers, to whom I gratefully granted custody of my capriciously prodigal intellect, introduced to me through scholastic study the convincing conclusions (i.e., covertly complementary bio-psychosocial arguments) of Francis Galton's Darwinian-based theories & theses on "Nature vs. Nurture."

By analyzing the extensive empirical evidence acquired through the lifelong, cutting-edge biological studies of his cousin, Charles Darwin, Galton determined the unequivocally evolutionist role of the relationship, first interpreted as dichotomic binary, between "an individual's innate qualities ('nature,' i.e., nativism or innatism) versus personal experiences ('nurture,' i.e., empiricism or behaviorism) [...] in determining or causing individual differences in physical & behavioral traits."[1]

Modern psychologists have come to criticize Galton's distinction between nativism & behaviorism "for its binary simplification of two tightly interwoven parameters."[2]

Today, the empirically extant binary between "nature" & "nurture" is more commonly interpreted as involving a relatively DYADIC (i.e., linked, interactive, symbiotic) co-dependence, rather than a DICHOTOMIC (i.e., contrary, mutually exclusive, independent) opposition, between the influence & impact of:

A.) "NATURE" : the uniquely concretive genetic profile of individual progeny inherited directly from their biological progenitors, and...

B.) "NURTURE" : the subtly nuanced psychosocial behaviors, traits and/or characteristics learned [i.e., "gain[ed] (a habit, mannerism, etc.) by experience, exposure to example, or the like; acquire[d]") from those individuals serving or interpreted as role-models, guides, or teachers within one's sociocultural environment.[3]

Today, in my "eyes wide shut," there no longer seems to exist a valid argument, but rather an agreement, between the concepts of "nature" & "nurture." In this vein, I see myself the son of a manic depressive, schizoaffective, actively alcoholic mother, who in his own time has perpetuated the traits, traditions and inheritances of his maternal line through severely catastrophic "quarter-life" crises.

Such crises began cruelly crippling my confidences, as far back as the Second Grade -- How well I recall that ineffable moment, when I was first called, "FAGGOT!" I often bitterly & begrudgingly recall the ostensibly laughable fact that, at the innocent, naive age of only seven, I was belligerently lambasted with brutal, brutish teasing for having erroneously defined "blow job," as being: You know! Like, when you go to SuperCuts®, and after the lady cuts your hair, she "blow" dries it!

More recently, these crises have tangibly & tragically crippled my mind, my body & my health. Fast forward to (or remembering in retrospect) the most ineffable, ill-fated & unfortunate day of my sad, sorry life: October 7, 2007.

Sure! We are now many chapters further along from my early adolescence, but this single day in my turned 'round story of survival & redemption is equally (if not astoundingly more) unforgettable than the years upon years of persecutions I succumbed to as a very lousy, lonely, lachrymal school-aged lad.

In early October, just over three years ago, I was found alone & on the brink of death, after what doctors now believe must have been 10 to 12 days of comatose confinement, brought on by overdose-induced, HIV/AIDS-related PCP pneumonia and a poly-microbial bacterial infection of the face.

The San Francisco Fire Department busted down my door to find me lying face-down & belly-up in my stark, unsterile studio apartment; painfully contorted and coiled up in the soiled, sickening sheets of my sullied, stained single bed. Blood streamed sanguine from my back-end, from my blackened necrotic nostrils and mouth, from the empty ethereality of my ears and eyes.

I was covered in my own vomit, urine and defecation, and all but nine of my teeth had fallen out "under the weight of my aching, dying brain." I had been forgotten, left alone, depraved & denigrated, deteriorating toward death; yet, by some ridiculously rare reversal of fate, I was rescued, redeemed & restored to life.

A rescue brigade – purportedly, a near dozen of emergency vehicles; all with lights emblazoned & flashing; sirens blaring in cacophonous mayhem and mercy – rushed me speedily & without delay, directly to the nearest hospital emergency care unit. After some quick and effective lifesaving maneuvers (i.e., blood transfusions, dialysis, wound care, heavy doses of generic antibiotics), my fading heart rate was stabilized; brain activity restarted.

Then, "a team of San Francisco’s leading diagnosticians, doctors & surgeons fought valiantly, yet failed so sorely to" curb, control and defeat the necrotizing bacteria which infected my face. Their only option, in order to ensure my survival, was the immediate debridement of all the necrotic, infected skin, flesh and bone of my once quite beautifully handsome visage.

For eight weeks, I remained in a drug-induced comatose state, with my entire head wrapped in white gauze bandages. After having amputated my entire upper jaw & palette, as well as deeply denigrate parts of my mouth, the left side of my nose, and my septum, a godsend group of most heavenly, heroic healers waited for the great gaping hole in the center of my face to heal.

Sadly, I cannot recall or recognize my selfless saviors, these "heavenly, heroic healers," as my mind's eyes were closed off to consciousness & seeing, while they worked their wonders on me.

However, you cannot conscientiously consider this lifelong continuum of crises after crises as mere counterfeit confabulations of my residual angst & anger, psychically preserved in the seemingly spurious spewing of my gad-awfully disgraceful, ungrateful gay boy guts.

For, however unrealistically severe sound my stories of sad, sad sufferance – both inherited & learned – the gad-damned destitution, destruction, deprivation, drug dependency, depression, disease and disfigurement, which have tortuously tormented me 'til present day, are terribly, entirely telling and TRUE!!

Still, such conspicuously catastrophic crises have, each in their own turn, torn me from the bliss of my not entirely outlandish optimism, inspiration, aspiration, hope and faith in Self, only to catapult me cruelly and contemptuously toward all but indomitable death; as if, as retribution for the heartless, angry animosity I've held toward my mother for my entire young life!

In spite, despite, or perhaps even because of my madly miserable mother, I have learned to survive great sufferance & struggle. Finally, at the age of thirty, I have come to transcend the pain, the shame, the disgust and disgrace, the disappointments, dissatisfaction & contempt.

I have languished and labored in battle over the brutal bereavements & bombardments of the neuro-psychobiological symptoms and side-effects of my bipolar disorder, schizoid-delusional psychosis and substance abuse; indubitably, inherited from my mother. 

I have also always often fought against my psychosocial behavioral impairments learned, gained or acquired by example, as the middle child of a hyper-dysfunctional threefold broken family, which manifest in my lonely life as parallels to my mother's last-ditch, last-chance, leftover life, as well.   

Yet, instead of still so stupidly sustaining such suffering in my life, I have in turn tended to cultivate a feverishly Faith-focused and thankful fortitude of smile, spine, spirit and psyche. 

This, I've learned or acquired, not from my weak and woebegone, miserably melancholic, mentally depraved & miscreant, degenerate mother, but rather from the countless coaches, counselors, providers, preachers, fans, friends and family who sit loudly lauding me court-side, during this furiously & ferociously fun game we call, "LIFE!"

My many loving laudators, whose encouragements, praise, counsel and commendations have rightfully and willfully replaced the disappointments of deprecation manifest by the damned near always drunken, depressed and indiscriminately desultory, dissatisfied, dreary but deadpan, stone-faced, icy, empty smiles of the mad, sad, sullen source of my genetic degeneracy (i.e., good ol' mother, MOM!!).

My many myriad advocates, supporters, defenders, patrons and providers stand tall, strong and sturdy as proud pillars of the wholly turned 'round reversal of my Fate.

Through a renewal of my Faith, a return to my roots (as opposed to my running away!), and my rightfully deserved Redemption, I've earned (as my mother would have, could have, and perhaps, still can!!) divine, sublime recompense for the determined, dutiful and devout good-doing and grasping toward greatness that I aim and am poised to achieve, through a careful, caring and conscientiously heralded sharing of my tall, tall telling tales of tempestuous turmoil and tragedy turned to triumph, after all.

These pillars of my survival and success have proven empirically, time and time again, through thoughts, words, sentiments, support, and – above all else – through past & present affection, admiration & ACTION, to be my guardians, my protectors, my heroes, my role models, my mentors, my teachers.

As I stand today so surefooted & secure in recognition of my Salvation through survival, I swear so surely to return to the origin, to the roots, of my Redemption, so that I may – God willing!! – give back to my guardian angels in gorgeous, gleaming, goliath grins of goodwill & gratitude.

I’ve joined CafeMom.com, as a thirty-something diseased, depressed, disfigured codependent; because, in spite, despite, or perhaps even because of the madly, miserable mindflux & mayhem which define the dysfunctional distance separating me from my mother, I aspire to find new friends here. 

I am looking neither for a new mother, a substitute, nor a replacement. However, I am looking for guidance from compassionate confidantes and role models, from whom I may learn how best to repair, restore, cultivate and nurture a stable, healthy, mutually beneficial, respectful and responsible, adult relationship with my own MOM – a wounded, weary woman who is oh so wanting of love; especially, from her estranged children.

For any future dialogues ON MOTHERHOOD, I will dutifully & discriminately describe the cripplingly corrupt manifestations of my own psychological frailty, social ineptitude & awkwardness, and substance abuse. A cataloging of my own many myriad imperfections, I presume, will prove them inherited and/or learned. But, from whom?

Does this question really remain altogether unanswered? If I have not at length provided a fully convincing & complete argument in favor of a DYADIC/CAUSAL/EMPIRICAL interpretation of the "Nature vs. Nurture" debate, as it relates to my life and to motherhood, then I briefly reiterate:

I argue adamantly that the utterly execrable, nefand, ne'er-do-well iniquities of my colossally corrupt character are ultimately my most reprehensible & reprobate inheritances: glaringly ungodly & grotesque gifts from my emotionally maladroit, compulsively codependent, maniacally defensive, nefariously perverse & irrationally self-repudiating mother.

While the "plentiful beatitude" of my blessedly blissful, infectiously intrepid, jovially just, fortunately fortitudinous, faithfully frank & fair, sacrosanct sense of survival, I've learned (i.e., gained or acquired) from the many "heavenly, heroic healers" who, hearts aligned in prayer, have held such a superhuman hand and played such a specially sublime role in sustaining my survival for so long, against such awful odds. THANK GOD!!

PERHAPS, some other mothers might find plausible, in my long, languorous tirade, the possibility for friendship & the turning of a page: a new leaf! For, while my tirade may have been told in a heated, contemptuous tone, I believe that therein lies loving, tender, telling TRUTH!!

PERHAPS, the love of mother & child might be restored here, starting with this still young, but no longer naive…; this still ridiculed & persecuted, but now more proud, tough-knuckled & thick-skinned…; this still mentally distorted, diseased & disfigured, but no longer depraved, dissolute, debased, degenerate, deteriorating invalid, now no longer deprived of love.

PERHAPS, this happily home-bodied, healthfully integrated & involved, ultimately indomitable and inspiring, safe, sane, sober thirty-something, solemn & blissful believer...; this no longer languishing, but still lauded lifelong learned laureate and lover of life...

PERHAPS, this “fagged-out ferocious Fog City freak show,” who is as delighted as he is grateful to have had so many successive second, third, and fourth choice chances to live again and again, may find it in himself here to restore trust and faith in family connections, in maternal instinct and love.

PERHAPS, this next chapter of my life might begin with innocently simple & patient, carefully & caringly cultivated conversations over my own compassionately p/maternal role as proud, proud papa of a vivaciously sweet, loving and affectionate two year old, gorgeous Terrier-mixed mutt, named Scruffy “TANNER” Thompson: my “PRIDE & JOY!!”  We’ll see!!

OR ELSE, my words are wasted… And, what a shame that would be for me: the marauder of one mightily mammoth & megalomaniac monologue! WINK! Like I said, “We’ll see!!” Thanks for reading… Cheers! Ciao! NAMASTE…

__________________
[1]     Wikipedia contributors, "Nature versus nurture," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Nature_versus_nurture&oldid=395464833 (accessed: November 8, 2010).
[2]     Ibid. (accessed: November 8, 2010).
[3]     learned. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged. Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/learned (accessed: November 8, 2010).

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

Matthew D. Blanchard

San Francisco, CA USA

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

[20101109T052758PST] 

World Humanitarian Day (Aug. 19, 2010)

http://ochaonline.un.org/whd
StumbleUpon® by QHereKidSF

This single well-conceived, well-structured, and well-designed Web-page introduces myriad discussions and debate around Humanitarianism world-wide, by articulating in simple, pointed headers and paragraph explanations the key "humanitarian principles which represent the foundation of humanitarian action," as defined by the United Nations:

1.) HUMANITY: Human suffering must be addressed wherever it is found. The purpose of humanitarian action is to protect life and health and ensure respect for human beings.

2.) NEUTRALITY: Humanitarian actors must not take sides in hostilities or engage in controversies of a political, racial, religious or ideological nature.

3.) IMPARTIALITY: Humanitarian action must be carried out on the basis of need alone, giving priority to the most urgent cases of distress and making no distinctions on the basis of nationality, race, gender, religious belief, class or political opinion.

4.) OPERATIONAL INDEPENDENCE: Humanitarian action must be autonomous from the political, economic, military or other objectives that any actor may hold with regard to areas where humanitarian action is being implemented.

This page is easy-to-navigate, and chock full of video links and "Supporting Documents," such as those entitled, "Security Trends," "Q&A," "Leaflet," and "Key Messages."

 

United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs
2010 World Humanitarian Day POSTER (August 19) - v.English
(cc) CreativeCommons Attribute 2010 | creators: UNOCHA, et al.
http://ochaonline.un.org/whd/posters.html

What's best about this entire social marketing campaign is, in my opinion, their poster and video campaigns. Their brand identity, imagery and messaging are all captured in a way that definitively illuminates that countless lives affected by and involved with humanitarian work across the globe.

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT YOU EXPLORE THIS PAGE, if in fact you have any interest or involvement in international development and humanitarian aid work!!

I know that, as a global HIV/AIDS advocate and activist based in and around San Francisco, CA and the District of Columbia, but doing working that is of integral importance to the Government and peoples of The Republic of Sierra Leone, I was immensely captivated and profoundly moved especially by the video PSAs & the full length feature film available for viewing on this page!!

All that I have seen here makes me exceedingly proud to be a HUMANITARIAN AID WORKER on WORLD HUMANITARIAN DAY : August 19, 2010!!




http://youtu.be/Yy7lnXG5U9Q, posted by ochafilms (August 11, 2010)

The 2010 World Humanitarian Day project is a collaborative film shot in over 40 countries in under 9 weeks, on a shoestring budget - with the goal of showing the enormous diversity of places, faces and endeavors of humanitarian aid workers in 2010. It was filmed by humanitarian staff and freelance filmmakers from around the globe (over 50 contributors in total) with all time donated. Please help us by linking, embedding, tweeting and sharing this message with your friends, colleagues and contacts. Our sincere thanks to all those who contributed to the film, and to it's dissemination.

Credits:
Music by Krister Linder kristerlinder.com
2D animation by Anu Nagaraj at massmarket.tv
Title design by David Rasura

Produced by David Ohana/AVMU at
UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs
worldhumanitarianday.info

This film is a subtly potent portrayal of countless individuals around the globe who dedicate their lives to the good, well-fare, well-being, safety, health, and humanity of all mankind. What poignantly gripping and emphatically simple cinematography and music!!

The worldly rhythm of the score syncopates in Diasporic beats the quintessential individuality of all Humanitarian Aid Workers, while capturing in a no less than captivating fashion, frame after frame, a unified front of humanitarians one in the same, albeit all of them of different colors, races, ethnicity, gender, locations, etc.

We are ALL HUMANITARIAN AID WORKERS!! No matter where we do our work nor how, as long as we are pursuing the greater cause of the key humanitarian principles: HUMANITY, NEUTRALITY, IMPARTIALITY & OPERATIONAL INDEPENDENCE.

I am a humanitarian HIV/AIDS advocate and activist working with and for the most beleaguered and needy populations of youth (primarily of color) infected and affected by HIV/AIDS in the San Francisco Bay Area. But, I also contribute substantially to a government affairs and international development nonprofit based out of the District of Columbia and serving the government and peoples of Sierra Leone.

Through Social Media platforms such as Facebook®, Twitter®, YouTube®, StumbleUpon®, Blogger®, Windows® Live™ Spaces™, etc., I also have the opportunity to contribute my voice to the global humanitarian movement that has taken root within the USA and which is spreading ironically as rampant as a pandemic of myriad infectious diseases across the globe.

That's well said: HUMANITARIANISM IS INFECTIOUS!! Or, so this 60 sec. World Humanitarian Day PSA demonstrates so well; the cause is CONTAGIOUS!! Hallelujah! Cheers! Ciao! Namaste...

Respectfully Submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard

Fund-Raising Co-Chair
Board of Directors
Bay Area Young Positives, Inc.
baypositives.org [baypositives.org]
twitter.com/BAYPositives [twitter.com]
facebook.com/BAYPositives [facebook.com]

Board Associate of Communications | Webmaster
Int'l. Professional Partnerships for Sierra Leone, Inc.
communications@ippsl.org
ippsl.org [ippsl.org]

Young Social Worker's Selfless ALTRUISM!!

A VICTIM TREATS HIS MUGGER RIGHT : NPR

JULIO DIAZ, MSW (age: 33)

Julio Diaz has a daily routine. Every night, the 31-year-old social worker ends his hour-long subway commute to the Bronx one stop early, just so he can eat at his favorite diner. But one night last month, as Diaz stepped off the No. 6 train and onto a nearly empty platform, his evening took an unexpected turn. He was walking toward the stairs when a teenage boy approached and pulled out a knife. "He wants my money, so I just gave him my wallet and told him, 'Here you go,'" Diaz says. As the teen began to walk away, Diaz told him, "Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you're going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm." The would-be robber looked at his would-be victim, "like what's going on here?" Diaz says. "He asked me, 'Why are you doing this?'" Diaz replied: "If you're willing to risk your freedom for a few dollars, then I guess you must really need the money. I mean, all I wanted to do was get dinner and if you really want to join me ... hey, you're more than welcome. "You know, I just felt maybe he really needs help," Diaz says. Diaz says he and the teen went into the diner and sat in a booth. "The manager comes by, the dishwashers come by, the waiters come by to say hi," Diaz says. "The kid was like, 'You know everybody here. Do you own this place?'" "No, I just eat here a lot," Diaz says he told the teen. "He says, 'But you're even nice to the dishwasher.'" Diaz replied, "Well, haven't you been taught you should be nice to everybody?" "Yea, but I didn't think people actually behaved that way," the teen said. Diaz asked him what he wanted out of life. "He just had almost a sad face," Diaz says. The teen couldn't answer Diaz — or he didn't want to. When the bill arrived, Diaz told the teen, "Look, I guess you're going to have to pay for this bill 'cause you have my money and I can't pay for this. So if you give me my wallet back, I'll gladly treat you." The teen "didn't even think about it" and returned the wallet, Diaz says. "I gave him $20 ... I figure maybe it'll help him. I don't know." Diaz says he asked for something in return — the teen's knife — "and he gave it to me." Afterward, when Diaz told his mother what happened, she said, "You're the type of kid that if someone asked you for the time, you gave them your watch." "I figure, you know, if you treat people right, you can only hope that they treat you right. It's as simple as it gets in this complicated world."

Produced for Morning Edition by Michael Garofalo. 

http://n.pr/DiazSW

As an aspiring Social Worker, who knows he's desperately got to work on treating people better (all people! all MANKIND!!), I am very moved by this story. Perhaps Diaz's faith in his fellowman, his uncommon generosity, empathy and understanding, could be misconstrued as a bit of 1/4-Life naivete, but I'd like to think that for as long as Diaz can and will cultivate, nurture, maintain, and grow his sense of altruism, then in fact all those possibly misconstrued character traits could be genuinely real and honest, and in fact, perhaps these traits could hang around for quite some time.

I've witnessed so much "BURN OUT" in the Social Services sector: MSW/LCSWs who just can no longer hack the pressure of daily on-the-job disappointments, letdowns and tragedy, and who have abandoned their careers after some 15 odd years, only to find themselves stranded.

Or, the other usual scenario, is that ground-zero in-the-trenches Social Service providers usually hack it for as long as they have to before a nice cushy desk-job comes their way, as Administrator of this, Coordinator of that, Manager of this, or Director of that. Then, that's when they lose sight of the human element that kept them so close to the streets at the beginning of their careers, and they grow cold and insensitive and money hungry, as most people do sooner or later.

I've known one or two people who have followed a different paradigm, and who have stuck to their guns in the trenches. Granted, these people could be painted in bizarrely radical and cacophonous timbres and hues, but they are REAL people, with REAL HONEST TO GOODNESS love for their fellowman. It's those type of people, 40 and 50 (and 60 or 70) year old men & women who still walk the streets looking to save a kid's life, that I find most heroic!! We'll have to see how Diaz turns out when he's a bout 20 years further into his career!!

Not cynical, but admiringly pleased...
Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
[20100814T154013PST]

http://twitter.com/QHereKidSF

http://qherekidsf.spaces.live.com

http://facebook.com/mblanchard79

http://qherekidsf.stumbleupon.com

WE MAKE A LIVING BY WHAT WE GET;

WE MAKE A LIFE BY WHAT WE GIVE.

— Winston Churchill 

YouTube® - WILDLY PULCHRITUDINOUS!!

Animal Behaviorist "PLAYS" with Wild Lions

What seems like stock new footage may be a hoax! Is this man real? Is what he is doing real? And if so, who's to say that what he is doing is good for these animals? Arguments vary! What doesn't go unnoticed is how beautiful these interactions are to behold. Thank you, YouTube!!


http://youtu.be/Wso13n4kHZ4, posted by PHARMART (March 19, 2009) 

Something seems dubious about these scenes in this YouTube video I just happened to "StumbleUpon," as if they were contrived and happened actually to take place in some Western Safari Amusement Park (à la Busch Gardens Tampa Bay). However, much of me wants to invest a good deal of admiring trust into what is portrayed here as legitimate news footage. If this man is real -- if what he is doing is real -- then I commend him not only for his bravery, but for his innate gifts as an animal behaviorist! Ouais! T'as raison! C'est étonnant, ce qu'il fait. BRAVO!!

 "...Étonnant," reads the original title of this video on YouTube; hence, my remarks "en français!" 

That said, I'd like to lean to the side of the fence that believes that this footage and these mesmerizing acts of human-animal interaction are turly genuine. It'd be like the "Crocodile Hunter" returned; only this time, with the soul & stature of a WILD LION!! What a beautiful thought...

Respectfully submitted, 
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF 
Matthew D. Blanchard 
San Francisco, CA USA 
[20100814T081747PST]

http://qherekidsf.yelp.com
http://transom.org/?p=8424
http://bebo.com/QHereKidSF
http://twitter.com/QHereKidSF
http://qherekidsf.blogspot.com 
http://qherekidsf.myspace.com
http://qherekidsf.spaces.live.com 
http://qherekidsf.stumbleupon.com
http://www.last.fm/user/QHereKidSF
http://www.youtube.com/qherekidsf
http://www.facebook.com/mblanchard79
http://wiki.answers.com/Q/User:QHereKidSF
http://www.flickr.com/people/mblanchard79
http://www.visualcv.com/matthewblanchard
http://www.linkedin.com/in/matthewblanchard
http://www.google.com/profiles/mblanchard1979

IF ONE ADVANCES CONFIDENTLY IN THE DIRECTION
OF HIS DREAMS, AND ENDEAVORS TO LIVE THE LIFE
HE HAS IMAGINED, HE WILL MEET WITH A SUCCESS
UNEXPECTED IN COMMON HOURS.

— Henry David Thoreau

FOR THE EXISTING WORLD IS NOT A DREAM, AND
CANNOT WITH IMPUNITY BE TREATED AS A DREAM;
NEITHER IS IT A DISEASE; BUT IT IS THE GROUND ON
WHICH YOU STAND, IT IS THE MOTHER OF WHOM
YOU WERE BORN.

— Ralph Waldo Emerson