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  • 1 Reference
  • Fluent in English, Spanish; learning French
  • 40, Other
  • Member since 2011
  • I am an apsiring musician & have most recently been b...
  • Audio Recording Technology attestation from Vanier Colleg...
  • From Gravenhurst , Ontario (& her's Bogota, Colombia)
  • Profile 75% complete

About Me


To discover the true spirit of the west coast; the ocean and forests and mountains are calling us . . .


I am a friendly laid back smalltown boy who left the little lakes to travel the world, become an artist, and most recently live with my Colombian girlfriend in Montreal. I am primarily a songwriter & musician but that doesn't pay yet so I try to do other things that don't compromise my soul. I am an adventurer, writer and a pretty good cook. My girlfriend Marcela and I are hoping to camp around the Pacific and Rocky's and arrive somehow at purity.


The pawnshop of dreams is an arduous climb up the slippery road but take a simple step and it is ever closer. I spin the wheels within me and the unstudied see nothing. And it is true – I am no closer to any destination but brother I can feel the ferocious cataclysms occurring beneath my skin. I am evolving a capacity to leap further with each step if ever I have the courage to put such alchemy to practice. The stretch from becoming to being is monumental. I have experienced no greater tension than the force of changing oneself from within to become a different person, one who is able to undertake the deluded ambitions of a child and fuse them into his expanded core to enable such ludicrous success. A recurrent image of two x-rayed skeletons comes to mind, one somewhat larger body superimposed upon the other, perhaps signifying man into monster, something like the Incredible Hulk's metamorphosis. It is the purple butterfly aura between that most interests me. The mysterious remnants of movement captured on this hypothetical screen like a touch of sorcery invading the hospital ward. Must the monster bury the evidence of his human origins before shaking the city with rampage? I will dress these wings in armour and stitch my baby soft skin to the vehicle's frame. To deny the vulnerability of tender instinct is to be buried in a steel shield on the fast track to the scrap heap.

Why I’m on Couchsurfing


I am new to this community but I've always been a couch surfer and provider & am looking forward to getting more involved


I've surfed couches from North America to Europe to India and always enjoy sharing time and space with generous strangers and friends alike. I most enjoy the spontaneous connections that spark instant friendships that spiral back future meetings as our trips progress further down the road. Marcela has traveled all over Latin America, Israel and through some of Africa and Europe.


Marcela and I have a wide range of interests: music, art, dance, psychology, philosophy, politics, linguistics, literature, anthropology, travel . . . we like hikes, live music, gardens, beaches, secret wonders.

  • birds
  • arts
  • writing
  • literature
  • dancing
  • cooking
  • walking
  • politics
  • traveling
  • billiards
  • music
  • live music
  • cycling
  • hiking
  • camping
  • adventure races
  • track and field
  • anthropology
  • psychology
  • beaches
  • lakes
  • mountains

Music, Movies, and Books

soul music in all forms: neil young, beatles, radiohead, manu chao, sylvio rodriguez, libertines, the clash, sly & the family stone, joanna newsom, james brown, animal collective, fleet foxes, bjork . . . dostoevesky, kerouac, tolstoy . . . good movies that are kind of strange.

One Amazing Thing I’ve Done

Meeting some guys on the minibus coming out of Srinigar we decide to get out with them on the side of the winding road and stride up the hill to a tiny Kashmiri shepherd's village. We squeezed out from the city and tumbled into paradise. The rain soaks in the colours, the mountains and skyscraping pines step forward into focus. The sky gigantic stretches open yawning wide and we breathe the universe into our souls. We are walking through the stillness and into a childhood fantasy, again feeling real as children. We are welcomed home and warmth grows inside us. Inflating into human, we pour into the path outside past curious pure eyes and serene shepherds to a distant hut that seems a replica home. Tenderness abounds, tea soothes the shivers and we pool our future sculptures into wish for a sun-drenched tomorrow. Goodbyes send us stoned into stony darkness and we slip through muddy riverbeds and backseats back in before the brittle lid is broken in and the gushing bottom drops out. We inhale wholeness back in our hearts. So ends the greatest day.

Teach, Learn, Share

At the bottom of the dawn, the zero hour when clocks and all are stilled for the grand sleep that must encompass all, I sit alone on the sandy ledge of a fountain by a playground and invite the sun growing over the horizon to warm my bitter thoughts and chilled feet. The soggy field froze them when I walked barefoot across the park and before, exploring unguarded rooftops with friends after pouring out from barroom revelry. When night has lightened up to blend into morning at that variable hour situated some time between five and seven, between the drunks kicking rusty cans down cracked boulevards and the birds awakening to cleanse with purity, for one moment there is true silence in the city. Even cities need a second to recalibrate their energies before the cycle winds up again. The last traffic has hummed away, brake lights flash red before vanishing under green lights to roads open as blank pages, weary revelers pause for reflection amid empty highways, for once not pushed to the sides by commuters rushing along their way. There is only the distant rumble of airplanes tearing trails through clear skies. No sound on the surface but the dull echo of the world beyond.

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