Paradise Lost

Part 1
- Spring -

Paradise, Michigan

I was standing on the dock to the Whitefish Bay in the early evening hours.
The air was cold but it was one of the first few days it was bearable enough to wear only your heavy jacket.

It was calm and quiet, you could hear the ice cracking and thawing occasionally.

In the distance, you could see a tiny sliver of blue sky... a sign of the oncoming spring.
Lake Superior was cracked and speckled with caverns and crevasses of breaking and thawing ice.

The wood on the dock beneath my feet was glazed over with a thin sheet of slippery, black ice, patterned in brilliant little frozen crystals.

Like most Michigan residents, I have spent the majority of my winter indoors. Those of us that live in the Upper Peninsula only journey outside for groceries, gasoline and other necessities.
Sometimes, when the weather wasn't so cold or snowy, I'd walk out my backdoor and crunch through an unplowed gravel drive in the woods to this old wooden dock on Lake Superior.

I stuffed my cold hands in the pockets of my coat and carefully continued down the dock.

As I walked, I remembered that in the short distance from the shore to the end of the dock, the bottom drops off almost immediately. When I reached the end of the dock, I stared down.
If the water wasn't so cold, I'd tie myself to a cinder block and jump.

From time-to-time, when I was growing up, my parents would try to take me to a beach not too far from here. I tried to picture them together as I closed my eyes and listened hard for waves.
Instead, I heard the faint cracking and popping sounds of the thawing ice and the cold wind howling down the lakeshore.

At that moment, I heard a car door slam from behind me.
Standing in front of a beat up Ford pickup truck was Lee Austin, a former friend and business associate of my Father's.

Shit, I thought to myself.

Lee is considerably larger than I am and when he doesn't get what he wants, he tends to throw a bit of a tantrum. Now, Lee doesn't have much to do with me unless my mother owed him money from a shady "business" transaction that she and my father had been running since I was a little boy.
At this point, this had been happening on very frequent occasions.

Lee began to walk toward the dock, he was bundled up in a jacket, sweatshirt and jeans. His alcohol drenched breath was showing in the cool air.
He glares at me and points his finger.

"I've gotta bone to pick with you," He says.
"Do you?" I respond.
"You owe me money," He huffed.
I scoffed and shook my head.
"I'm guessing you've been in contact with my mother."
"Yeah, so?"
I smiled at him.
"Well, good for her. I'm glad she got the old family business back up and running."
"Give me my money," He ordered, getting closer to me.
"Why would I have your money? I have nothing to do with that business."
"Bullshit. Your Mom told me that you help her out all the time. She says you always have cash on you," he spat.
I shook my head once more and turned toward the lake.
"Drug dealers are all liars... you should know that," I reply.
Lee snatched the back of my coat, spun me around and got within inches of my face.
I could smell that the couple nips of vodka he had before he showed up.
"I ain't playing with you. Give me your money!"
He reached into my back pocket and grabbed my wallet.
As he desperately rifled through the contents of my wallet, I couldn't help but snicker.
"You're not going to find it in there."
He wiped out a coupled dollars and stuffed them in his pocket.
"That's it?" He huffed impatiently.
I shrugged.
He slammed my wallet down on the dock.

With a swift movement, Lee hit my chest with his hands and moved closer to my face.

"You think you're being funny, huh? Maybe I should just take the money for myself, eh?"

I laughed.

"The money's not there, Lee. She lied to you."
"Where is it?" He barked.
I smirked again and shrugged.
"You know as much as I do..."
"How the hell do you not know?"
"I told you I'm not apart of that business."
"I'm sick of your bullshit," He said.

Lee raised his fist and just when I thought I was going to get a face full of Northern Michigan redneck knuckle sandwich, a loud gunshot exploded near the shoreline.

We both looked.

My best friend and part-time police officer, Michael Cody stood in front of his police cruiser with a .22 caliber pistol raised up. He too was bundled up with a hat and police jacket.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," Mike said.
"Shit," Lee muttered under his breath.

Mike cooly holstered his pistol and glanced over at Lee's pickup truck.
"Mr. Austin, I believe you're in violation of two laws... driving with expired tags and attempted assault and battery..."
Mike walked over to the start of the dock.
"Now, I'm not one to cry over spilled milk, but the latter is really something I don't like to mess around with..."
He paused and lowered his eyes at Lee.
"For the third time this month..."
Lee Austin looked dumbfounded.

Mike's radio squawked as he waited patiently.
Lee smirked.
"Do you know who you're talking to?"
"You're the only Mr. Austin in the whole village," Mike replies.
Lee slowly walked over towards Mike.
"About 20 years ago, I ran this town. I had guys like you from Mackinaw clear to Wisconsin. This was MY territory."
He said raising his voice and pounding his chest like a madman.
"Mr. Austin..."
"Yessir, 20 years this year me and THAT boy's father ran a good business," he said pointing at me.
"Until he went and blew his head off, of course,"
I looked away.
"Save it," Mike interjected.
"And you pigs were eating out of my hands," Lee giggled on as he brought up his fingers and wiggled them like he was crumbling stale graham crackers.
"Like you couldn't get enough of it..." He chuckled some more.
Mike was silent.
I was silent.
Lee glanced over at me once more. I was silent.
He waddles over to his pickup and opens the door.
"I don't want to see you around Ben again, Lee. Understand?"

Lee flashes a superficial smile,
"Certainly, Officer."
He puts his car in gear and drives up the road and disappears out of sight.

Mike turns around and smiles a warm smile at me, as if he just killed a bee that was about to kill me.
"My hero" I said sarcastically.
Minding the ice, Mike carefully walks onto the dock with me.
"What are you doing out here again?" He asked, carefully navigating his way down the icy wooden dock.
"I'm thinking," I half heartedly respond.
"About what?" He pressed.
"A lot of things, ok?" I reply shortly.
"Ben, if this is about your dad..."
"It is about my dad," I interrupt, "And my mother, and the fact that pretty much half of the damn village wants me dead."
"Nobody wants you dead..." Mike sighed.
We fell silent. Mike scratched his head and looked out onto the icy lake.
"I guess it's only been a few weeks since your dad died... and it's not like he had a peaceful death," He said.
"Lucky bastard," I mutter.
"Knock it off," Mike replied, "You need to get out of here and get some help. If only you could find a place somewhere else..."
"Yeah, with what money?" I interrupted.

Mike looked at me with pity in his eyes.

"Maybe it's time to ask your Mom..."
"She's not going to give it to me... She'd rather die than fork over that money."
"Then I think you might have to make her."

Gymnasium

I am surrounded by Ken dolls, Ryan Seacrest wannabes, and New Years Resolutionaires...

The Ken dolls are on the weights, the wannabes are on the elliptical and the resolutionaries... well, they're trying.

And then there is me...
A white, skinny, scrawny guy looking to gain some muscle.

I'm not a Ken doll, not really a wannabe, I'm sort of a resolutionist... but not really.

When I enter this sanctuary of masculinity, I feel everyones eyes shift onto me and not in the way that the Ken dolls or the wannabes get looked at.

I feel like I'm being dissected. Perhaps, they too are wondering where my social standing is in their domain...
As I stand next to the track, I stretch out my weak, skinny limbs.
I catch a few glances from Ryan on the elliptical and Ken on the bench press...
Are they judging or are they attracted to me...?

I can never tell.

I finally approach the track, take a deep breath and I begin a steady jog.
My legs may be steady, but my mind is cycling through a slew of worries.
"Don't trip, keep a steady pace, don't slow down..."

If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I still feel the need to come here...?

I look around and I realize that, even though I may be judged, analyzed and silently criticized...
We're all here for the same reason...

To become more desirable...

They can judge me all they want, but in the end, we mutually share a need to go there every day...

We're all running on this hedonistic treadmill

A Poem From a Friend

I wanted to share a poem that a friend of mine had written:

*Notice* Explicit language used. :P

People look and they judge.
Can you blame me?
I feel good.
I feel fine.

You're as light as a bird
Weightless
Feather weight
Easy boozer

You can never judge
A person for the way they feel
They may appear to be a feather weight
But you never know the way they feel

One drink, two drink
Three drink, four...
Buy me another round
But don't call me a whore

A whores live is living at the bars
Hoping to forget the life
The life that fucked him,
Screwed him

Used him like a piece of meat, he did
Like he wasn't human
Too many times I've found myself
At the bottom of a bottle

Bottle feed me those lies
I'm your baby
Baby, don't hurt me
Please I'm yours

Your life sucks and mine does too
Shoo, I don't want your shit
Just take another hit
But please be gentle because I know you're lit

Stare down a barrel that is being held
By maybe God, maybe Satan
Should we name him Leighton?
I can't take this faking.

Ma, I hope your glad
For raising a son
Rather having none you never had a say
In whether or not he was gay

So say if you'd take it back
Have a daughter, you know you oughta,
It's just a real big gag
Raising a fag

So when I drink, feel free to think
I'm just a light weight
I'm just a frustrated mate
Who isn't straight

I've got a shit load of problems
But I know no one can solve them.
Call me a light weight, go ahead
and try it.

Put the bottle to my head and let the suffering end.

The Long and Winding Road

One HUGE thing you should know about me... is that I love metaphors.

If you stop to think about how people perceive our lives, many think of one metaphor:

"The Long and Winding Road"

It's beautiful, isn't it?

For some people, their own paths have lots of twists and turns, down branches and other obstacles that stand in their way. Others have gentle slopes, beautiful rivers and wonderful scenery to enjoy.

Anyway you look at it, each person has a different path... but most importantly, it's how they handle the obstacles on that path.

This blog, is about the journey down my own long and winding road... Yeah, it's cliche` (sort of dramatic) but I like it and I want to share the experience as I live through it.
Throughout my life, my road has been filled with twists and turns, ups and downs, and sure... a few branches were thrown down in my way... and at some moments... possibly my lowest moments, I felt that I was going through my journey alone...

But I wasn't.

I was always able to regroup, able to cut down the branches in my way and still have time to enjoy the scenery around me...

Yeah, that sounded a little corny.

What I'm trying to say, is that my life has thrown me a lot of obstacles and I guess, in a way, I've always impressed myself how I get through it. Though, I wished I would have been able to document it and have a way to look back on it and say "Wow, I've grown so much since then..."

So this is where it begins...

I'm entering a very important stage in my life that I really feel I should document... not in an attempt to be pretentious, to be funny or to get myself any kind of attention... I truly want to share my life with the rest of the world, so I can eventually... take a step back and artistically and analytically look back on my life and say...

"Wow..." 

I want to document my dreams, my goals, what's happening, where I'm going, what challenges I'm facing... I want to record it all into one funny, tragic, happy, sad, beautiful story... and it will all be my own. 

Somewhere in time, I'm going to thank myself for doing this. 
To grow as an artist, as a filmmaker and as a human being... I believe that I need to watch myself grow first. 

And it all starts now...