mob rules

I want to be away from here. But I don't have a car. I don't have a plane. I don’t have chopper one because its getting a new deck. I don't have a skateboard. I don’t have a pogo stick.. I don't even have a pocketful of mischief. I'm always in need of a weekend but I'm not even going to get that because all the coppers are going to be flying around and all the bad guys are going to be everywhere else and where theres bad theres the ugly and where theres the ugly theres me in the shadows telling people what to do. The field general. The quarter back. The master of puppets. The bullet in blue sky.

Remember when I said: "Life is like trying to commit suicide with a toothbrush. You're all geared up to do it but decide to brush your teeth first." You knew then I wasn't making any sense anymore. You know this is just some cheap form of therapy. People say all the time and ask me all these questions about it.

Some people even get angry, like I'm supposed to be taking some kind of black and white stand just because that's what they'd do if they had the opportunity. I'm not saying that my true goal isn't to inject my own thoughts and views into these things. Some people just get confused with all the babble in-between. If you look hard enough you'll probably figure it. Contradicting myself is just the fun part. You see, I'm just as full of shit as everybody else. Maybe more so.

Wow, what a lazy weekend. If there can be such a thing. I mean, the weekend was what it was, but it certainly made me lazy to live in the midst of it. The city wasn't as empty as it sometimes is on a long weekend—either a lot of people chose to stay close to home, or else the ones who left were replaced by an equal amount of tourists—but despite the people, the atmosphere was relaxed.

The other night I framed the pastel skyline. Above the city, a sharp sliver of moon was cut out of the pink and orange sky. The sun gradually set, revealing a rare sight: stars. None of them as bright as the myriad jets lined up for landing, of course. Sometimes, if you look up long enough, as many as four planes appear to be strung together, heading for the airport, while countless others swarm higher overhead.

"Is that a plane?" I said to myself, pointing my head towards a particularly high flying one. But yes of course, what else would it be? A UFO? I’ve always wanted to see a UFO just like the terrifying ones that thrill my dream filled world a nightly. "Wouldn’t that be cool?" one like I would guess. Yet when you come to think of it, it can also be kind of frustrating, since no one would believe you. "Yeah, I’d probably lose a lot of friends." They'll think that I'm contagiously crazy.

The only plans I'd made was to take some photos of the ACSA BBQ event this past labour day at Vincent Massey park. I woke up bright and early on Monday morning, stretched and sighed, went for breakfast at the bent out of shape coffee shop in my old neighbourhood to say hello my old friend caffeine. The day was far too nice to spend it inside.

Sometimes I tell myself I don't want to be doing this any more. Even though its exciting. Even though its nice to know everything that is going on in this fair city at all times. Even though it means that we can read your emails and listen to your phone conversations and see through your house and x-ray vision through your frankie bs. All I want is a light at the end of the tunnel and if it's a bud light I'm going to hurt someone.

I want, I don't want, I want, I don't want. I sound like a baby. I'm not a baby. I'm someone who thought everything was going to be one way and then it turns out to be the total opposite, as in total as in toe tall. I met with my girlfriend, Sharon (the executive board member of her group), and joined the Asian student reunion at the park the other day and I pretended that I wasn't there but I was. The only problem with that particular event was that it started as a faction all its own which has since just turned into another faction.

It wasn't her fault, I told her, no one understood the message of 'community'. But, like most things, maybe no one was really listening all that closely. So eternity went marching on and things grew steadily for the better or worse. So, that, in a nut shell, was the dilemma. To be quite honest, most people just want to spend their time in peace. In actuality they far outnumber the trouble makers. But it gets difficult when the minority starts lighting things on fire because they're not happy about something and a great many innocent bystanders get caught up in it. So people who would never normally resort to fighting back find themselves turning into the exact thing that they didn't like to begin with. And, eventually, everyone ends up on one side or another. And that, my little friend, will no longer do.

As time had come to the end of a proverbial rope. We decided that unless everyone changes their thinking in a big fucking hurry, we're gonna shut this event down. And let me tell you, the alternative was not attractive. I don't suppose you have ever been to oblivion so let me fill you in on something. There's nothing there. Just empty space. I don't know about you, but floating around in empty space for all eternity with billions of other people doesn't particularly seem too thrilling. And it's not like this place won't go on existing either.

People were floating around in space forever, but we'll be doing it with a zillion retards that'll be telling us stories about how they once dwelt in this kick ass place where life was sweet but they screwed the pooch for everyone and now life after death consists of a twenty four hour space walk and public fornication in a zero gravity environment. What a mess.



So that was the deal. And that was where the executives came in and pulled their own hair out. You get the glorious task of telling everyone down there that they have to shape up or they get shipped out. I knew for one, not to expect anyone to listen for quite some time. We made the mistake last time of giving our guy some special powers so that he could convince people that he wasn't kidding. But not this time, Andrew (the club president) grabbed the machete like the good old fashioned Asian he was and said "...sometimes you've got to do it all by yourself."

That was about the time we were taught a lesson. And we fully expected him to do it too. Rarely does the guy bluff. And I'm sure there will come a time in the future when Sharon and Andrew will change their minds and try all of this again but I can't say that for certain. The only thing that's ever been for certain is this place. And well... there goes that theory.

So ACSA tried to calm itself down a bit. Why not do it? What was there to lose? If people weren't willing to listen to them it wouldn't be their fault. They didn't have control over their communities actions and thoughts, only they did. Anyway, I took some photos as planned, click here to view the gallery. With what I've tried to assemble, they should be in some cohesive order, but aside from that there was nothing cohesive about what was going on.

As the voices fell silent in my head, I realized that I was shaking like an epileptic. Fear was not an applicable word for what I was feeling. Terror, though somewhat more directed, was a weak substitute. All in all, I enjoyed myself immensely.