Peter the Pumpkin Eater

I could lie, saying that I didn’t write for a while because what I wanted to write about was too close to the heart, but that is not true. I had plenty of other things to write about, but didn’t do that either. truth is, after my brother’s passing a year and a half ago, it felt like the creative writing rug was pulled from under my feet somehow. To cope with what has happened, I began playing and recording music, and the need to contribute doing that still persists, so I keep it satisfied. I also reflected on my brothers life, writing on what I remembered and how much he meant to me, but all other writing… something has happened there. I wrote very few blog posts and worked even less on the main story I had going. In mid February my best friend Pete died, and within days I told myself I would need to write about that, just like i did with my brother’s passing, and yet I couldn’t make myself take a single step toward that. maybe it was grief itself, preventing me from taking steps to address itself. whatever the reason, it is only now that i start going with it.

I met Peter Christensen in late 2005 and i was his friend for 17 years and i miss him like crazy every day. First couple times we’ve met he didn’t make a good impression on me, but that changed quickly. Pete was a great and knowledgeable and friendly guy, but he struggled with lots of things in his life, and he was often negative about people around him, strangers or not. He never expressed anything like that toward me, but he had resentments toward a lot. I was happy he joined AA, like me, because i could see clearly how he was shedding his negative attitudes toward people and was trying to improve his outlook on life. He became so dedicated to sobriety and recovery that I envied his energy a bit. 

Pete knew places to get movies from. Movies were a passion we shared. We’d borrow them from stores, from library, we’d go see common friends to watch movies, Paul and Bernie. Funny enough, we never watched a movie together in a theater. Pete and I were both Helloween band fans, and they use pumpkins in their artwork. After we watched Pumpkin Head, i started calling Pete Pumpkin Eater from time to time, but never to his face.

I helped Pete move at least two times, and helped him clean and declutter on of those places before it was livable in. I’ve lost count of concert we’ve been to together. Maiden, Ozzy, Misfits, Watain, Judas Priest, The Sword, Slayer, Warmarch, Behemoth, and much more. I’d usually stand at one spot, but Pete would move around the floor, checking out better sound. Then we’d miraculously meet among the massive crowd and chat about it.

I think first time i went to an AA meeting with Pete was on a New Years eve and it was a birthday meeting. He was in quite positive spirits after that and we went out for pizza around Whyte Ave and went to my place and watched AC/DC home video for hours and through fire works. It was way before he joined AA, but he was coming to meetings at Alano Club around that time, i think. Around the time we became friends i was still at school and worked in college kitchen all week. Peter would come over Sunday morning and we’d play guitars through the massive Marshall amp he stored at my place, and then we’d split and I’d go to work. Pete and I drove around to look for my new black leather jacket and on the way I found a Venom Live in London DVD and we’d sit at my place, wearing our leathers and watching it and drinking root beers.

Pete was insanely difficult to get a hold of, half the time. Before I owned a cell phone and could send text messages, I phoned him on the landline and leave messages just to say “hi” and he wouldn’t return my call for a couple of weeks. Then out of nowhere he’d show up, when I near lost hope to hear back from him. It didn’t change a lot through the years, but somehow he was there when I phoned when I really needed him there. We texted often when he was back to reality, or at least my reality. His was quite different, I knew.

Pete died six years sober from heart failure. What the hell…

It gets insane to think a person so close to you and for so long can never be around anymore, and you could not get a hold of them. Pete, I miss your presence and your voice and the amazing friend you’ve always been. One day I’ll be around out there. You better answer your astral phone then.

Love and horns

thank you to the good people who took last two pictures, whoever you are, i do not recall

Mourning the Dream


Your comforting smile

So much of you and I


That I recall.

Want, satisfied.

It’s sweet meeting you again

Known and shared bliss

All fears are extinguished

All sorrows walked through

And now they have ended,

Resurrection of a good life

Colors dance, promises granted…

… I awake –

All the goodness a dream

My essence mourns it

My mind resists it,

Before I realize, yet again, it’s futile

For no power in the universe

Can bring the dream back

Back to reality I knew in my slumber,

But another dream.


[image copied from thankyou]

practice what your retch

It wouldn’t be true to say I care all the time.

It wouldn’t be true to say I say just truth all the time.

And the best part about it, sometimes I don’t even realize I don’t care or not saying the truth until it happens and I see and hear it, and then I wonder: “What has just happened and what is happening within me that I do that?”

Sumtymes I’d say I will be there in your darkest. But I woke up and the night has taken you away and you were not coming back. Sum timez I say smart things that I see may be of help to you, but I know I don’t always follow them or haven’t for a long time. I try to practice what I preach even if Yoda said there is no try. Am I full of crap? There are days I feel like what’s coming out is just retching.

Who am I besides the imperfect person who deserves a break? There are days nobody seems to care who we are, how we are, how well we could be. So, I just do what I can do. And then I feel like giving up.

And then I get up and try and try.

may be

It’s hard…

… no, it’s more impossibly difficult….

…to believe that you’ve been gone

For a year

And you are not coming back.

At least not the way I knew and loved you.

Maybe you are here

As a bird, hovering over me

Watching what I do

Observing my struggles

And chuckle at my attempts

To make a meaningful living

While as a bird you just focus on survival.

Or maybe you are a spurt of grass

Breaking through the crack

In the concrete path

That I walk on every day,

Your perseverance

Besides my often-times despair.

Or maybe you are a star,

Tirelessly shining on my city

And only very rarely and briefly

I look up and stare into your beautiful eyes.


when one door closes,

another door opens,

and air of another world floats in

like a river of light

with stars and shadows of leaves

that once trembled on the trees

in the valley you’ve never visited;

spirits of fire sparkles

illuminating the space

between portals

making hallways seem

not as lonely dim light tunnels,

but pathways to opportunities.

[the Dagaz rune image was copied from somewhere my memory no longer holds where. thank you.]

nothing straight

I, for a long time, thought

Life moves in a line,

-perhaps majorly crooked-

Like the legendary Taoist river.

However, I’ve been taught

By great master Existence

That just like recovery is no linear process,

Life is a river with scattered pits of maelstroms

And streams branching off.

I could and should learn from it,

Yet I always tend to forget.

Denial is sweet.

(the images was copied from thank you.)

timeful death

how hard was your journey

I never fully knew

how your sanity suffered

you kept to yourself.

one can never

get used to dying.

ever so violent

are its blows.

one human demise

is just a start,

for sorrow lingers.

your departure

so unexpected

and for the rest of us

long time paralyzing.

your life was

full of events,

you gave care and love

in the ways only you

have mastered.

you believed your time has come.

you believed you could bear

pain in life no longer.

you may have seen your time was full

complete yet broken.

now you have entered other realm

on the new level of your journey.

as for us,

we’re left to mourn

grieving life,

understanding death

rejoicing in our woes

to cherish existence

in the sacred parlor

of death

in this world.

broken against earth

Breathing promise of life

While plunging toward demise

In the cold air of new day

For no more pain to be taken in

Until last one, near shattering blow.

Years of wants and tears,

Past and future,

Submitted to a closure and exit

As world of another kind

Is opening before you

As you have broken against frozen earth,

Resisting chances of hope and miracle,

Carrying in embrace all the memories

Of beauty spread through the years,

Of warm light

That kept us alive.

(the image was copied from thank you.)

Half Empty World

Without you in it

This land appears bare.

I feel like in the absence of your laughter

I will no longer care for things


In just this one month

All the questions came up

But you can answer them no longer.

Connection you and I had

Had been so strong

It’s a shock it could be severed

Ever so violently.

Something within me is lost

And sometimes I fear

I will never find it again.


the image was copied from and enhanced by me. thank you.

[patient denies discomfort]

I didn’t believe

I didn’t want to know

I failed to see

When they told me something was off

When they’ve put the mirror to my face so I’d take a look at how fucked up I was.

I still said I was fine.

I still said there was no reason to worry and why wouldn’t the just leave me be

There was no fight I needed

There was no change I wanted

…there was a scream deep inside of me, for help, for love, for something new…

I kept not hearing it.

I kept wanting the same liquid solution

They, they, they… what else did they do

Besides trying to pry open my eyes to my insanity

Besides slamming with words and actions?

Well, all i saw was intrusion.

I remained alone, telling myself and others nothing was going wrong

I remained intoxicated, believing the fairy tales it was telling me.

…change is a scary thing if it seems like there is no one by your side and that’s how I felt…

One day the years caught up with me

One day it was one of those days

I looked at myself in the mirror that I denied existed

And realized if I keep doing it, I will keep doing it until there will be no more “it.”

…meaningfulness of life was running through my fingers into the sands of the desert I’ve created for myself as I watched, realizing that very fact, scared shitless to do anything about it…

Then I made a step forward and admitted to complete strangers how bad I was.

Then they nodded and welcomed me to the club.

…somewhere deep inside the fucked up me was whispering words of caution but I ignored them…

I was on the way out of denial and toward responsibility that came entwined with freedom

I was me who I knew and the one I didn’t, and that was OK

The change was no longer as scary as before,

For I was no longer alone,

And I saw that as much as I believed it.