roll up your rim

I’ve lost my train of thought, I can tell you that. I ask, what is today’s modern woman? Romantic, spontaneous, and independent? Deaf to hearts breaking across a whirlwind ocean? As certifiable as a Tim Horton's coffee nut? Always looking forward to the chance to spend even more of that hard earned money on stuff to win precisely nothing? Sometimes, as you may surely wait for it, if you squint your eyes you can see constellations made out of the salt on the deck. I think to myself, we’ll eventually all end up exactly where we came from. Beneath the salt. In the universe that just might be round. And every little thing made up under the night sky of mine will be time that’ll make you so sweet and beautiful but dumb. Rotating in a orbit around and around. Your biggest haul a muffin, a donut or three. Sadly though, we almost never give the free food away, because try as we might, it’s best to gain whatever the amount of bitter-sweets you can in this life. Admit it. You can't help yourself to that coffee oh so bad. But you’ll still buy a tonne, being excited as you roll up the rim, and then...

"Pay..."

"...Play Again".

It's a disease.

Try to make sense of every little thing at 2 AM.

never used chimpanzees in my research

In what I may call visions of sequent events within the squares of a mammoth crossword puzzle. I had a lucid dream of looking for clues and numbers that aren’t there. So I run blind, and these squares that cut off into manipulated figures eventually turn into deserted alleyways. The alleys turn into a labyrinth with towering hedges without an exit. But I keep running anyway for the sake of something to do. I let myself get away, looking back at myself at how the signs were so simple yet no longer the same. I get more and more lost and tired. Terrified. Until I spot a warm light in the distance. It comes to 4:40 in the afternoon. Three times I had already tried to wake up but no go. So I let if off, still banking my shut eye for the rest of the week until I say, I have had enough of this.

Life is strange and I’m a stranger to it. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. No matter how deaf I may want to become. I’ll experience one close encounter with another in my cubbyhole of living beneath the hills.

This guy from my distant past has been coming over every second day to review along with myself the ponderings of existence. The exception between him and I is that he’s perpetually under the influence. Phase or not, it’s getting to my nerves. Him, along with the company of my canine companions.

Not that I need company in order to be pondering the meaning of life, of love, of relationships, of my place in the world and what it is that I want from this madness that we call existence. I think about it all the time about how I have I been slipping away from myself in slow motion and how it seems more like that way everyday. When I take the time to think about it, for as long as I can remember I can’t recall a time when I didn’t have some pain in my body, the taste of battery acid in my mouth, or this fog dulling my vision, etc.

There are those that contend that happiness is easy, that it is definable, automatic, and effortless as sex or drugs, but I have never put my hands down on such stock of much whimsy. Happiness is a war waged every second of every minute of every day. It is a process that, like a sausage maker, transforms the raw into packaged uniformity, ready to cook or burn or discard. Happiness is, in my experience, as disposable to most these days as razors and rice.

In favour of what though? The answer is as ironic as it is flimsy – a better version of happiness. The grass is always greener, the sun brighter, the sky always bluer, the water warmer in paradise. Within the enchanted walls of happiness is to be found ever altering perfections of days and moments, of carnal meetings, of passion and laughter.

There’s a prison filled with drug addicts living to a drum of non-perishable worship called new happiness. New happiness destroys more than it creates, pains more than it pleases, and divides more than it consolidates. And yet we desire it above all things. Perfection is illusory. The most spectacular of cars gets you from point A to point B no different than the most practical and most inexpensive. The perfect male or female body is only as desirable as what it contains, no matter the initial sexual impulses. No matter how attractive something is, if its nature is less than satisfactorily, ugly to say the least, then no amount of wishful thinking can amend it. Again I ask myself before I bring myself in to shut me up. Have I been slipping away from myself in slow motion?

It seems that way.

shake me i'm waiting

I’m still sick. Yesterday night I had a groggy kind of nauseous exhaustion. It was the sort of night that compels one to remain indoors, to take a load off and watch a movie. So there I was, watching Spider-man in sake of remembering what exciting flashes I’ve had in my menial life of public expose. It was my prize moment on January of 2004 where I was voted hall of fame artist on Sony’s Official website for the Spider-man films. The buggers still have my profile up for your viewing pleasure. So click here.

Upon my recollection, I opened my eyes and realised I had lost my audience of delighted fans. To my amazement things literally went up and down for a good few seconds. My mind malfunctioned like the TV set – the colours went off, the images distorted, and the vertical or horizontal slipped. After the good shake, things suddenly came in loud and clear. Dead-silent and blank.

“Eastern Ontario and western Quebec were rattled by a gentle earthquake on Friday night, the Geological Survey of Canada says. The tremor, with a magnitude of 4.5, was too gentle to cause damage, government seismologist Sylvia Hayek said.” - CBC

We had a mild earthquake here about 8:45 PM, enough to shake the house and have an audible rumble. I think it lasted about 5 seconds. I immediately searched the web for information and it turned out the Americans had the data before we even did. The Canadian seismology site was down (probably overwhelmed with hits) and when it did work, there was no firm data on the quake. Pretty useless to have a web page re: earthquakes that doesn't work when we have an earthquake.

There were no immediate reports of damage or injuries, although Ottawa police said they had received a number of calls from residents wondering what had happened.

the revolving door of despair

Hello. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to say. I hope you’ve been well. Yes, thanks—I’m terrible. No, not a single tear. No, not too many nightmares. Well, that’s not entirely true… maybe just a few.

I must admit to being rather down and out. After visiting the clinic for a two hour wait, I’ve walked out with not only my chest pains still intact, but also a rather terrible cold. It again may very well be my fourth inflection with a virus this year. It’s scary how sensitive I am. I am seeing a docter this weekend for a series of tests. Everything should be fine, just cut me some slack. That’s what happens when you take time to consider yourself amongst those in the outside world. No matter how much you wash your hands or use sanitizer, you’re just bound to pick something up. Everything is out to get you. But don’t worry about me though, I’ll be fine.

I think.

The following may be ironic, but watching someone you once knew lose their mind from a distance is somewhat sad, especially if you considered yourself friends at a time in your lives. Listening to the anecdotes of others regarding their slide into oblivion is both depressing and telling in a aching sort of self-awareness trip. And though you’ve lost all contact with them, you hope that some of the information that has reached you is accurate, such as telling of gainful stability. To discover that such information is, in fact, false, only makes it more apparent that professional help is required, and all you can do is hope that it is sought sooner than later.

I’ve been confused since I can remember. In the shadows I know all too well what urges most forth into the world. I know that solace is a distant dream. I want you to know that I’m not asking you for anything. I want you to know that I never would. I just want you to be aware of the way I’m trying to move from one level of despair to another… in the hopes of one day being free of despair that makes me sick.

Everyone in all their own textures of youthful, hopeful hearts. Waging a war since they can remember. I yearn for weeks spent in paradise so that I can replenish my soul, if there’s any soul left intact. With bright, yet guarded smiles I’m in desperate need of replenishment, sustenance for what is condemned to continue to wage a war within, and without. On my way through a rippling crowd towards solitude, so far away from that which is known to me, I’m sometimes drawn to another, if only to say hello. So we come over and join each other. Excited now and eager to speak and to be free, to laugh and to share stories.

Although sometimes I don’t say much. I haven’t had much to say in quite a while. I listen. The handler of the stick that stems by the fire, seems, through articulation, through eyes, to be an intelligent, albeit undereducated but young. Everyone has a story.

Enter darkness into the gentle glow of light that pervade us. Rise, what lies beneath the masks we wear. They tell me of their delinquent, absent mother or father… of the preacher that molested them without end, tell me of the solace you thought you found in drugs.

We speak of dragons, green fairies, prohibition, expansionism, deserts, demons, and even of redemption. Do you pity us? Do you know us, at all? Perhaps you believe yourself to be a redeemer? Perhaps a judge? Sometimes the world is so cold. Sometimes the momentum of life and adversity seems so fast… like these legs could never keep up, through the dross and the ice in peoples’ hearts. I’ve felt that way. The young one with whom I spoke used to feel that way, too. At a certain point in life, the shadow had descended upon them until it was all they knew… all they felt.

The demons have shown me a couple of stray scars. Recounting to me the descent into oblivion. At times, our artistry will stir us around, and to those, there is still the trace of a smile on both our lips, still the pretense of an amusing evening away from the world, but clearly, we are no longer a couple of strangers exchanging idle banter. Tell me. About the one night you put a loaded gun to your head and pulled the trigger. So low, so forgotten, to even remember to load the chamber a round, and so lived. The burden of living, when the only thing one knows is destruction.

Demons and shadows flutter all around our heads, but they remain outside, uninvited in. Someone in the corner is whispering that I am nothing more than manifestations of the scourge of the planet. Someone in the darkness is pronouncing curses. I will return to the desert. I will return to the war. In this state of relative silence there’s freedom as I have become so joyously aware of what progress I’ve made in life. I’m doing well. I have high hopes for this young blood, who may even go to university. With found voice, we found legs to stand up. To overcome negligence and incompetence. To save lives. To bring hope just a bit closer to reality.

I know you don’t want to hear from me. I know our relationship is strained, to say the least. But I thought you’d like to know that there are still some shadows that lament the absence of light. Some times. That feeling for the texture of a solace you can touch. I thought you’d like to know that there is a war going on within every sorry son and daughter in this dominion. Don’t look now, but unless some of these people begin to win some of these inner wars, there can never be any hope to vanquish the plague of war in the world. Stretched so thin across cruel distance… deserts of our own making, the struggle continues. We murmur feeble incantations and perform second-rate feints to colour. The masks of addiction we use to obscure our frailty, our humanity.

I hope I don’t offend when I tell you that our frailty is our humanity, and that the latter shall come to be immeasurable strength, a brighter light than we’ve yet seen, by means of the little victories of people like you or me. Where ever your shadow may linger, you must bear in mind, despite your tendency to dismiss, and to judge, that so too must there be light.

moaning again in protest

There are many things wrong with everyone in the world. The attempt to illustrate agoraphobia has been canned because every now and again I have to leave the security of my home for excursions to my ‘so-called’ private office. I’ve said it before, aside from having immaculate ideas, every effort taken in my mornings to shower is therapeutic before I head out to reach said designation. So, here I am, consistently out and about still representive of myself, thinking as if it were possible to return to a housebound level of agoraphobia at any minute. Slumbering so fantastically.

Even as I rest it persists. Haven't the foggiest notion what may be ticking away like a mean-spirited codger holding a cheap alarm clock in my body. It's awful really how I continue to let this pain slide. If I were to treat this more seriously I may have already been in the emergency room. At the time being, I could only imagine that this is a trick. An exaggeration of my mind or a temporary condition.

"I wish you would just shoot yourself before somebody else would and get it over with. It's the only way to shut up people like you." - Commentator

There are many people in the world that are of course morons. It's obvious enough and not exactly a new development. Of course the problem is that 90% of them consider themselves not to be and would agree with the sentiment that, in fact, the world is full of morons. Therein lies the difficultly in eradicating the problem. Now, it's not as if I haven't received threats via e-mail before. I've been threatened numerous times by numerous individuals of anonymity. There is something to be said for the realities of today. The usual things such as encountering difficulties in public, the stares, the comments, the rumours, and so forth. All of which are rather easy to ignore if you're the sort that doesn't much care. Because, in truth, what does it really matter? You can only be knocked off of a pedestal if you consider yourself to be on one. The truth of life is that you're here, you live it, and then you're gone. You can attempt to convince yourself otherwise, but there it is. You get one time on the ride. If you allow it to be effected by the attitudes and dictates of others then what's the point?

If you're reading this chances are that you are not living under tyranny. In some romantic fashion you might consider yourself to be, but let's face it, no one's going to be crashing through your door tonight and hauling you off to a political re-education centre. Every time you leave your house to go to the store there isn't a better than even chance that you'll be gunned down by a sniper or caught in crossfire. Chances are you're not living under a bridge or in a part of the world devoid of clean drinking water and basic foods and medicines. Chances are if you took the time to look at your life compared to most, you could be a lot worse off. Given all that, what in the hell does it matter what some guy says or not? And how exactly could it be bad enough to precipitate the desire to kill for it?

Tonight. Can you hear my tickings as I complain in my sleep? And while I still sleep, moaning softly and moaning again in protest to the previous moan which threatened to wake, I’ll carry off to consider this...

Note: Success in the traditional sense? Success in the pathological sense? End note.

the deterioration of many things

Something tells me I should hugely prepare for the negative sense of things. I'm struggling with my scheduled arrangements to make time for medical reassurance this week. It doesn't sound so bad at first, but in comparison, my daily preference of sustainable living is challenged when I continue to feel these internal aches and pains take their toll on me.

I can't remember the last time I took to drawing with pen or pencil. It was once a very common tool of mine well used for my 'self-insight' -- i.e. ability to recognise what's happening to me. Somewhere later on, because of the deterioration of many things well shared in anyones life (including time) I came to this new form of expression; still in respect to visual art - being photography. You'll find that I've chosen flickr to operate as my new gallery. My latest and achieved pieces will be displayed as the days progress. Eyes are welcome.

I better go to bed.

going wrong somewhere

Comments are pretty important aspects of a blog, although not entirely necessary, but if you’re creating or have a blog in the first place why wouldn’t you include them? Therefore I will be reinstating my commentary for members of my blog only and adding in an entirely new photo gallery within the next day. The thing I love most about this is the time and opportunity it allows me to share thoughts and ideas with others alike. I really care for this website, perhaps more than a hell of a lot of other things.

The big deal for me right now is that I’m sick to death. The small weekend met its end and I’m left with this overall feeling that is not getting any better. It's a strange feeling within my chest. I do my best to keep it humming, and make sure that the carbon doesn't build up in my virtual and non-virtual valves. With the last few days full of torrent so far, I swear, I once felt my heart skip a beat. I then caught a whiff of those dusty sun-pummelled rocks like the rich stink of bubbling road-tar and then a fleeting image of perfectly bound breasts. Weird as it was, I found myself with a shiver of the joyous goofiness of life's meaningless serendipity.

One thing that stands out at this point, is that I need to be officially scared in order to challenge what I fear. If I’m not in awe of the scale and volume of the challenges I’m facing, the incredible amount of knowledge that I need to absorb and process — I start to think that I’m going wrong somewhere.

For the coming few days I will be taking a small break from posting in large volume and rather working on visual ambience. I hope you'll enjoy.

jettison commentary

Where and how do you bring yourself to draw a line? If you were to give anyone the choice between facing silence in order to feel safe or freedom of expression of an ideal belief to which your personal security is at risk, which do you think they’d choose? And if the answer is expression but with having to worry about being violated, how do you then justify anyone in attendance throwing something at them that could result in any type of injury?

You can’t. Nor should anyone ever be placed in the position of having to choose between them.

That’s right, I’ve removed my commentary due to some unsavoury characters lurking beneath my wing. It’s sad to say what some will go through, but personal information had been leaked. I’ll shoot straight with you and also admit that the divisiveness and thinly veiled bigotry that I have seen displayed in some of the comments is very disheartening way and has left me somewhat numb after falling into a complete nervous wreck.

Anything that represses the growth and protection of civil liberties, proper human rights standards, and the people’s ability to actively participate in government or social concern is completely unjust and immoral. But let’s also not ignore the complexities of how a multitude of nations and peoples throughout the world do the same thing, even though to many they appear to be defenders of such principles. While what has taken place over the past has been very troubling to say the least, it is simply a piece in a much larger puzzle. It’s the sort of reckless behaviour that has consequences.

I’ll be honest and admit that I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about my future here in the blog. Scaling things down seems an good answer, so perhaps that’s what will be done. If you’re at all curious as to what I’m finding interesting on a daily basis, please feel free to continue visiting and sending your personal commentary via email.

The truth of the matter, when you get right down to it, is that I can sit here until I’m green or blue in the face and say that I deserve the right to do my work without facing the possibility of being endangered, just as anyone else does. But for some reason there’s a group out there that doesn’t seem to agree. So let me put it another way.

Why do you have so little respect for yourself that you’d invade a complete stranger and not think it wrong?

enjoy the serenity that you can afford

It's Valentines Day and the doors to consumer culture are open. In the past week, Amnesty International, Global Witness, and other human rights organizations have sent public appeals to consumers: if you're going to buy diamonds, buy conflict-free diamonds. A new guide entitled, "Are you looking for the perfect diamond?" recommends that, along with the usual four C's -- color, cut, clarity, and carat -- buyers consider a fifth -- "conflict."

For years, conflict diamonds have fueled civil wars throughout Africa. As Amnesty International's short animated short flash animation recalls (all to the De Beers' trademark commercial tune Palladio):

For the past decade, Sierra Leone has been wracked by a brutal war led be an armed group called the Revolutionary United Front. The RUF terrorizes Sierra Leone's local population, and controls the country's diamond-rich regions. The RUF funds their reign of terror with the sale of $200 million of diamonds a year. The RUF's terror tactics include: killing, raping and abduction. But their trademark is amputating the limbs and body parts of men, women, children, and babies. Ineffective regulations allow these "conflict diamonds" to enter the international diamond market. America consumes 65 percent of the world's diamonds. Refuse to take part.

It's not just Sierra Leone, but Angola, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Liberia. While there have been efforts to create certification processes to establish the origin of diamonds, there is no guarantee that the diamonds you buy haven't been smuggled across borders, or had certification forged. Doesn't much matter, anyway, seeing as only a quarter of American shops have a policy on conflict diamonds, and 83 percent of American consumers just don't ask about it.

It's important that human rights organizations are trying to get consumers to be more aware of their diamond purchases, but our culture's obsession with diamonds is itself worth questioning.

How damn special and unique can diamonds be when you stop to consider how many women own them? According to one estimate there are enough diamonds in the world to give every man, woman, and child in America a cupful. The only reason they're so expensive is because companies like De Beers, controller of some 60 percent of the diamond industry, are price fixing. Indeed, in 2000 the Department of Justice charged De Beers with just that. After failing to show in court, De Beers finally (2004) paid a $10 million anti-trust penalty so that it could open up stores in the U.S.

De Beers has succeeded in framing the diamond as a symbol of your love and uniqueness. It's advertising campaign got a jump start from sociologist A.W. Ayers, who, back in the 30s, recommended that De Beers present diamonds as a symbol of a man's ability to "get into the competitive race." The gems were than loaned out to well-known actresses "who can make the grocer's wife say, 'I wish I had what she has'."

Perhaps the only spectacular thing about diamonds is what makes them a mainstay in drill bits and saws: their resilience. Diamonds are the hardest substance on Earth. Now, if advertisers had chosen to focus on this quality -- say by showing our world of well-bred weapons of mass destruction with a socialite endured apocalyptic event at the end of which only her diamond ring remains -- it might be a more legit campaign. But diamonds are advertised for their elegance, glamour, and synonymity with love.

Old habits die hard. But, before you go out and buy your lady a rock, consider that jewelry ranks fifth among women's desired gifts for Valentine's Day. Top on the list? A night out on the town. And you might just be able to leave your wallet at home: 60 percent of women say they intend to pick up the tab. Truth or no truth, you won't know unless you try.

And for the single folks, before you do drown yourself in alcohol or head to the movies to throw chocolates at unsuspecting couples, try to buy fair-trade items -- the kind that don't fuel child slavery. There's already enough suffering on Valentine's Day.

online writer jailed

Corporations sure are super duper.

"The internet giant Yahoo has been accused of providing China with information that led to the jailing of a second internet writer. Media watchdog Reporters Without Borders claims that Yahoo released data which led to the arrest of Li Zhi.

The online writer was jailed for eight years in 2003, after posting comments that criticised official corruption.

Last year Yahoo was accused of giving information to Beijing which led to the imprisonment of reporter Shi Tao.

Reporters Without Borders called on Yahoo to release the names of all internet writers whose identities it has revealed to the Chinese authorities." - BBC

Would anyone including you do just about anything for the all-mighty dollar? Would they, could they deny citizens access to information? Sure, no problem (see: google). Provide additional information to a government that results in the denial of human rights? Anything to help! You’d think this would be bigger news. But can you really say you’re all that surprised? In light of the daily occurrences in our world, and what we’ve learned to tolerate, I think this a meagre offering.

Can’t help but appreciate it as a microcosm for the general state of world affairs, and moneys power over our morals and supposed ethics. What always frightens me is how little people actually care beyond thinking ‘Those assholes! ...How could they ever?’ ,continuing to drink their coffee. Including me, at the time I read this. But I’m getting tired of this apathetic, "Generation Why" nonsense. When it costs you, you’ll wake up. Don’t you worry.

sweet nothings

This is definitely an older one but only by a few days. It was actually saved in my own personal chronology. I wrote this at home one night after a lengthy visit and conversation with Tara Beach, wife of actor Adam Beach; who had opted to deal with a derriere dog bite. So there I was, or we were, sitting in my living room. Her gorgeous self emitting enough to be an actor, but isn't.

"I'm a housewife," she laughed. "Bet you don't hear that often."

It must have been an even day, I suppose. I was sitting there munching on my Popeye Cigarettes - before they changed the magic formula and made them taste like shit. Perturbed as I chewed, we came up with one all encompassing reason why people love to get all worked up about absolutely anything that they can sink their teeth into. And once they get all worked up about something it's all anyone can talk about. What a disgustingly predictable lot we are.

Tara smiles up at me with this look on her face like the world’s not really a bad place and all the snowballs in hell are neither melting or under any false pretences about what they’re doing there. This makes me worry, of course. I’m never without a rigid facade; trying not to smile in the vicinity of anyone. So right away I’m a little confused. Putting worked up into affect was another matter altogether. So I went out to go get some chips and dip to get ready to get all worked up.
She explained her arrangements on visiting the rez sometime soon with Adam. Being a celebrity, he had been faced with numerous challenges against becoming immersed in artificial realities. As I imagine, they’ll be traveling to participate in a cleansing or “coming home” spiritual ceremony. I myself, someone who had not grown up on a reserve but is First Nations, asked myself when did we (as in my mothers side of the family) leave the reserve in the 70s to be assimilated into Canadian society. I think we’ve witnessed what happens when there’s a breakdown in ones own culture. One of the main reasons, I believe why many chose to remain in such impoverished conditions is due to trauma of being out in the “real world” where they suffered every kind of abuse known to man. Provided: living on a reserve has a safety net community.

I still hear today new horrors.

I wanted to ask; I’m sure that a time or two you’ve toured a community, you’ve actually experienced the history of abuse suffered at the hands of those who promised to protect and respect rights of the First Peoples of this land. Again, one may never understand the reasons why people “choose” to stay when in fact they can choose to leave.

Considering what we’re capable of hearing through the administered media, using the limitations of this added constraint to the level of our conscious understanding, the living conditions on the rez where, for one, water contamination and living conditions is a major problem, residents may close their eyes, probably because they believe it is a lot safer than walking amongst the “civilized” who believe that they pay for your car, house, lifestyle so that affords them the luxury of being called names, perpetuating the myths that we’re third class citizens in THEIR country.

There's a new world order.

Then It dawns on me.

I’ve nothing to say today that hasn’t been said more than once in the past. All one need do is scan the pages of the world’s newspapers to realize we’re on the brink of something, that this is a time to choose to either make your voice heard or bury your head in the sand. What will I tell my children when they are old enough to understand the importance of this global fight, of this crucial time in our shared history? That their parents willfully chose to remain ignorant and silent when they could have involved themselves and lent their voices to a growing global choir demanding justice and accountability for more than just themselves? I cannot, in good conscience, live with being guilty of such irresponsibility. Because this isn’t just about one war, or one reckless government, or the exploitation of one country and its people. This is about the path that we, as citizens of free nations, must work to alter. This is about becoming more than votes within a system, more than a marginal voice in a landscape of apathy and easily disregarded public discontent. This is about ensuring that we are not so easily bemused, not so ignorant that we don’t know the difference between manipulation and information. We must work to reclaim the dignity of those practices that have been stolen and sullied by corporate interests and the greed of those who profit from our continued degradation. This is about taking responsibility for the actions of our governments, not claiming ourselves innocent of their crimes because we lacked the courage to forcibly confront them.

We have reached a crucial point of decision. Do we raise our children in a world in which we continue to be regarded as peons that represent little more than means to political ends, or do we raise them in a world in which people actively embrace the realization that the status quo is something that must always be challenged and questioned? For if not by us, then who? If not now, then when?

Of all the things, I’ll throw down, I remember this piece of crap the most. It was one of those things that you write when you’ve come to the end of your rope and the only thing that’s keeping you going is the fact that you can’t remember how to stop.

"Easy isn’t for the free. Easy is for the willfully confined. So how easy do you want it?"

everyone loves a clown

Egotistical, eh. Well, thank god I have someone as my barometer. Who knows what lengths I'd go to. I really don't think too much about what anyone thinks when it comes to what I write in this thing. Just me. As far as giving the people what they want, you'd know better than I, I suppose. And although I can't draw any comparisons between what I write and self gratification, I wonder if anyone out there bothers to ponder the fact that what I say doesn't mean a fucking thing to begin with. (Does it?) It is people that search for the literal that find the literal. And there's one reason why people like Hitler came to power. Self application is a much better principle, don't you think. Or do you?

How about some standard small talk: Hey, how’s it going? Oh whatcha got there? Oh some books, what kind of books? Textbooks? Like to read much? Those sure are big books. What are they called? Like to read much? Oh, I already said that? That's a damn fine question. Ow, hey that doesn’t fit there. Wait, I can’t breathe with your foot on that. There's something about being someplace, somehwere you've never been to before. You feel like a kid all over again... What was the question again? No. Swimming in a large bowl of tomato soup is not one of my big ambitions. Swimming in cherry jello is. It’s getting dark and so cold, oh so cold.

On topic, I heard a disturbing story reached a happy ending last week. The municipal government of Montague Township (Ontario) had launched a defamation suit against a private citizen who had spoken out against how the local fire service operated.

[Don] Page, a long time resident of the town, complained to the Ontario Fire Marshal that volunteer firefighters had not shown enough diligence in fighting a house fire that killed a local woman. Page and his wife, Jean Purcell, were one of the first witnesses on scene.

Lest ye not wait for lotto but sue instead. The Guide to Living the Canadian Dream, the Good Old American way. Attempting to sue a concerned citizen who is bold enough to speak out against perceived wrong-doing is extremely heavy-handed. Mr. Page did not attack the reputation of any individual - he criticized the training methods that the municipal fire service employed. If this case had been successful a legal precedent would have been set that would have allowed any government in Canada to effectively muzzle dissenters. Thankfully, common sense prevailed:

Justice Kenneth Pedlar said the lawsuit is contrary to the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms and he also cited the Municipal Act and international precedents for helping to form his opinion.

"In a free and democratic system, every citizen must be guaranteed the right to freedom of expression relating to government as an absolute privilege," Pedlar stated in a 13-page decision released .

Moreover, Pedlar said it is unnecessary to even consider whether statements by Page against municipal council and the fire department were, indeed, defamatory.

But he warned against interpreting the decision "in any way as an encouragement to those who might engage in the making of irresponsible defamatory statements against government."

Individual members of government may still sue for defamation to protect their personal reputations, said Pedlar.

Translation: Canadians are free to criticize the government; however defaming individuals in government is still not acceptable. Before I move on to wasting away my creative energy consciously allowing myself to return to servitude, I wanted to ask, where do you stand on the issues of:


A] Abortion
B] Anything
C] Religion
D] Lap Dancing

the learning asylum

"Perhaps all human beings - are in the grip of an astonishing delusion. We think that we can take a picture, a structure, a working knowledge of something, constructed in our minds out of long experience and familiarity, and by turning that model into a string of words, transplant it whole into the mind of someone else.

Perhaps once in a thousand times, when the explanation is extraordinarily good, and the listener extraordinarily experienced and skillful at turning word-strings into non-verbal reality, and when the explainer and listener share in common many of the experiences being talked about, the process may work, and some real meaning may be communicated. Most of the time, explaining does not increase understanding, and may even lessen it." - John Holt (1923-1985) from How Children Learn.

Being one who writes often of the frustration in dealing with a system that is dysfunctional, bureaucratic, co-opted by corporatists, nevertheless, I still want to make a difference. I suggest, no, I encourage telling it like it is:

I have been blogging lately about how systems worldwide discriminate, demotivate, subjugate and demoralize most, especially young people, teaching them not to think, but just to consume, and to allow the established, moneyed and powerful elites to pass on their business and political empires to their children. And then, broken by that system, most young people willingly and gratefully work and grow old at boring, unfulfilling jobs, in constant fear of unemployment, and blame themselves for not doing better in our lands of supposedly unlimited opportunity.

It leaves little doubt to me that subjugation and wage slavery were the intended purposes of public education systems when they first formed. What is hard to fathom is that, given the effort and desire of most public school teachers to give young people the best education possible, the system seems to perpetuate itself generation after generation and the gap between the elite and the rest of society grows massively wider every year.

Why is this? I think teachers are caught in the system's net themselves, and would probably be the first to admit that the rules under which they must work largely undermine their ability to actually teach anything.

What would happen if we reformed the education system so that it didn't perpetuate the cycle of economic fear, political apathy, social guilt, and self-loathing?

Let's consider what such a system might look like, starting with objectives. I would suggest it should strive to do just two things: (a) Provide the skills, and ability to apply them, needed to make a comfortable, enjoyable, fulfilling living (as owner of or partner in an enterprise, not as an employee); (b) Provide the skills, and ability to apply them, needed to be an informed, contributing member of society (in other words, to be a good citizen and get along with others).

Some basic life skills…

Creative Skills: -Ideation: Coming up with new ideas
-Representation/Spacial Skills: Capturing, applying and executing these ideas.

Language Skills:
-Written Communication
-Oral Communication
-Non-Verbal Communication

Knowledge Processing Skills:
-Synthesis: Distilling and summarizing information
-Analysis: Breaking down information
-Interpretation: Determining what information means; adding insight.

Interpersonal Skills:
-Sensing: Listening and appreciation
-Connecting: Engaging, sympathizing, organizing and relating
-Persuading

It's about applying and reapplying these skills to our unlearned selves; the tasks of making a living and being a good citizen best taught by people who are actually doing it, where they are doing it, not by teachers and not in classrooms. If some young lady visits a team doing land surveying and decides she might want to make a living doing that, she should be equipped, and encouraged, to identify the resources needed to pursue that calling and apply herself to acquiring the knowledge and talent needed to do that. If surveyors have a professional qualifying examination, that, and not some standard pre-set grade-school examination program, should be her self-set gauge of accomplishment.
So, what I’m proposing is a system that has no schools, no teachers in the traditional sense, and no examinations. Is this a naive invitation to anarchy? This was in fact the way education worked before formal, standard education systems were introduced. Then, however, you had limited choice: your father taught you his skill, and you either succeeded at it or went off to learn another trade from someone else who needed apprentices. Once you had 'mastered' the trade you were your own boss.

The system I propose would take advantage of new communication and information technology and our greater interconnectedness, to allow each young person to pick from thousands, millions of possible callings, and link up with others with complementary skills to create businesses of equals. The Basic Entrepreneurship. Easy to learn, and all it takes to succeed at it is lots of practice, and the younger you start the better.

Perhaps it sounds as if I'm reducing education to finding a job, but I'm not. Making a living is not the same at all as finding a job. Discovering and pursuing the role you want to fulfil in society, what you want to spend most of your life doing is probably the most important decision any of us makes. To some extent; some believe how we make our living defines who we are. And the second objective, becoming an informed, contributing citizen, requires us to learn most of the things that a traditional, elite, 'liberal education' requires: a knowledge of history and geography, an awareness of what's happening in the world and what it means. The best way to imbue this, and to measure it, is for the 'teacher' to engage students in discussion about specific pre-determined issues, enable the students to do their advance research using the above life skills, the internet, and other tools at their disposal, any way they want to do so, and then gauge each student's progress by the quality of their participation in the discussion. No 'bums on chairs' teaching/preaching, but instead one-to-one engaging conversations. As I’ve learned from some grad students, they know for a fact that's how you really learn.

The 'teacher's' role in all of this is facilitation, not instruction. That means setting up opportunities for students to meet and see and talk with people who make their living in different ways. It means ensuring they have access to the learning resources they need, and steering them in the right direction to learn how to use them. It means arranging and coordinating the discussions. It would require that all of us making a living now set aside a significant amount of time to show, and talk with students about, what we do and how and why we do it. It might well require a lot more 'teachers' than we have today, though it would save billions by eliminating curriculum development, textbooks, school buildings, and the administration that accounts for much more than half of the current education budget.

The implications of doing this would be staggering. There would be no employees, no labour pool for large corporations to dip into. I don't think many corporations would mind this at all. They have already basically transformed most jobs into contracts and eliminated most employee benefits. The idea of converting every employee position into a supplier position is quite well understood by senior management and might even be welcomed.

In the longer term, the liberation of being one's own boss and having free choice about how one makes a living would work strongly against large, hierarchical corporations. If we were all entrepreneurs with a choice of customers, few would put up with the control and bullshit that large employers today impose on employees, and the new 'contract' between large corporations and entrepreneurs would inevitably be much more egalitarian and much more expensive than today's employment contracts. The consequence, I believe, would be that large organizations would break up into small, autonomous units that would be almost indistinguishable from entrepreneurial ventures, more responsive to customers, and free of the overpaid management and administrative bloat that makes most large corporations arguably even less efficient than similar-sized public organizations. As a result, corporate power would devolve, and our whole society might become, at last, classless, a world of equals, fulfilled, empowered, working and thinking for themselves instead of working the squishy joint for a new pair of nikes. As I said at the outset of these are half-formed thoughts. I wish blogs had more flexibility as collaborative tools, but in the meantime, please use the comments feature to join the dialogue and share your thoughts.

As for the images above, they are from Child's Pay, the award winning video from MoveOn that CBS refused to show. The video depicts children working to pay off staggering and obscene debt. If fundamental basic improvements to the educational system aren't made, in contrast to the grossly under funded, misguided and cynical program results of government policies, for one, Canadian poverty for children will continue being second largest in the worlds richest of nations.

global civic-related communications

Fun with pounding out vitriolic posts only to get up on my high horse. I admit, it has a marked disadvantage of preventing me from seeing eye to eye with anyone around me. I mean, I could understand the concept of your fanaticism, but I am utterly unable to relate. Don’t get me wrong, I understand frustration and feeling insulted by people who don’t share my point of view, but I have no compassion for violence. Zero tolerance.

It seems like all the serious questions have been asked, so I’m going to take this opportunity to be a little light-hearted… It makes me wonder how long it will be before commercial interests will make the internet as irrelevant as TV has become to me.

Already the nation's largest telephone and cable companies are crafting an alarming set of strategies that would transform the free, open and non-discriminatory Internet of today to a privately run and branded service that would charge a fee for virtually everything we do online.

Under the plans they are considering, all of us--from content providers to individual users--would pay more to surf online, stream videos or even send e-mail. Industry planners are mulling new subscription plans that would further limit the online experience, establishing "platinum," "gold" and "silver" levels of Internet access that would set limits to a person’s number of downloads. For your set example, to your appealing yet astronomical amount of amateur pornographic media streams or even online-dating e-mail messages that you could send or receive.

While it comes as little shock that the telephone and cable companies want to make more money, it gets even most surprising to me… considering how important free access is to the internet, why haven’t I heard that both the Congress and the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) are considering proposals that will have far-reaching impact on the Internet's future.
Ten years after passage of the ill-advised Telecommunications Act of 1996, telephone and cable companies are using the same political snake oil to convince compromised or clueless lawmakers to subvert the Internet into a turbo-charged digital retail machine.

To me, the major appeal of the web is the free access to information that I would otherwise never have access to, in particular, freedom of expression in/and access to weblogs (blogs for short). Material written by people much like myself with diverse views and opinions.

It seems everyone is wanting to be pro-active. I also live in that category and let me tell you... We’re living in surreal, bizarre, and dangerous times so you might as well sit back and watch the show. Reasonable people try to deal with stuff reasonably, but are there reasonable people? All I have observed in the past few years are narrow minded people sucking at the media tit for what to be upset with next. How about understanding? How about the justification for understanding?

While I do access much of my news on the web, with a few notable exceptions there’s little that I couldn’t already get from my local newspaper. However, I agree whole heartedly if we permit the Internet to become a medium designed primarily to serve the interests of marketing and personal consumption, rather than global civic-related communications, we will face the political consequences for decades to come. Unless we push back, the "brandwashing" we will permeate not only our information infrastructure but global society and culture as well.

For this administration “public good” seems to be synonymous with making money. They seem unable to see the fallacy in arguments like “What’s good for GM is good for America.” One almost wonders if this administration isn’t consciously trying to implement the philosophy made so famous in ‘Brave New World.’
Are you old enough to remember when you bought cable TV to avoid the constant commercials, or when you went to the movies to see the movies and not an endless string of commercials, previews, and more commercials as you wait for the show you came to see actually begin? It would seem that we’ve been dealt unreasonable times in which to live.

vanished savage naturalness

Have you been on sedatives for the last dozen times or what? Someone may ask. Well, I thought I may have had an unhealthy relationship with my computer. When it’s not working, for some reason I tend to be unhealthy. Turns out I was only sneezing.

For the lack of something interesting to write about these past few days I had ignored my common place here. That is until now. There have been a variety of reactions, mostly confounded to the rain we’re having this early in February. Everyone asks why, as a matter of fact Canada is experiencing one of it’s warmest winters ever. The permafrost in Alaska, NWT, Yukon and Nunavut is melting causing huge environmental problems. The polar ice pack is disappearing at a rate that may cause the great Gulf Stream to stop by flooding the northern point with too much fresh water. Now new research indicated that the greatest threat of all, the huge west Antarctic ice sheet may be breaking up and that means a very large rise in sea level. What’s of most concern is that though these things have been talked about for several decades as possibilities, or as happenings but at a very slow pace, what we see now is a vast acceleration over even the most pessimistic predictions of the past decade. That can only portend worse to come. We’re all screwed, and our children’s children will be lucky to survive. Over the past couple days, I came to mentioning to a few the Ojibwa Shaman Artist, Norval Morrisseau, 78. If you’re not familiar with what is a Shaman, a Shaman is a member of certain tribal society who acts as a medium between the visible world and an invisible spirit world and who practices magic or sorcery for purposes of healing, divination, and control over natural events.

As I was saying, I had visited the National Art Gallery yesterday night. There was a pre-opening show left for those acknowledged in the native artist community and those of aboriginal government and issues. I was inclined to visit. I had come to the place without much history of Norval but with great pleasure in taking part in any such event in regards of an Ojibwa artist. I myself am a young Ojibwa artist and any common ground that can be established with others in any event is good by me. When I came across Mr. Morrisseau, to my surprise I found he was paraplegic. That left me on the same wheel of suffering as he was, so to speak. Complete paralysis of the body with the nerve system shot.

I found that night that ones end is a means to another’s beginning. Also in accordance to the definition of failure is another’s definition of a success. Depending on how you look at it and from whose point of view you expand upon. Speaking accordingly, you could say that his show is a success. He was addressed by everyone crowded around him as if he were the Pope. They whispered to his ear as they held his hand. For me to stand there as I had witnessed his suited associates at any part speak on his behalf and take personal recognition upon themselves, it felt to me as some sort of wrongdoing. I senced there was inherent violation of values. It made me sick. But the damage is done, and it was a success. His friends are richer, his family is richer, and they will continue to become wealthier. His art in stock has doubled, to triple even in his death.

In remembrance, his work now hangs in all of the most prestigious museums in Canada and around the world. He has received an honorary degree from the Royal Academy of Arts and is a member of The Order Of Canada, the highest civilian honour in Canada. In 1989 he was the only Canadian Painter to be invited to participate in the "Magicians of the Earth" exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in Paris, France.

His work invoked memories of childlike simplicity with colors not immediately apparent. His vision, like ancient taboos are a so called, talisman of the future with images in respect of the past. Yet devastated with by his own personal demons, it conveyed in his art history from European epidemics to neo-colonization. To this day his work has fought to separate itself from the culture sickness that has spread as most native land was appropriated, a fate shared by all native peoples of North America. He has helped create an aboriginal school of art and fought plans to deport the Ojibwa to Kansas and Oklahoma and succeeded. Today nearly all Ojibwa reservations are within their original territory. This place called Canada.

To admit to these atrocities was approriate, the first step to change is awareness, if nobody knows the truth than nobody can help expose it. Most people I talk to think that on or off-reserve natives live on vacationing resorts 24/7 that most can go to in order to escape from trivial problems of low marks, high cell phone bills, and heavy stress-load from the jobs we hate. Well guess what....it isn't. People are dying there. Not necessarily from disease, famine, or unsanitary conditions (although all of those things are problems), but from an organization that we falsely instilled our trust, an organization that claims to do nothing but help the less-fortunate of the world, then turns around on them. It's time for us to open our eyes and see that everything it stands for is nothing but a heeping pile of bullshit.

I have to be honest and admit that I don’t know what to make of this whole. One aspect of all of this that I find ironic is how, when it comes to things of this nature, is when it comes to actually tackling some of the most blatant abuses of power in recent years, not to mention the realization that lies were used to promote them, the same sort of enthusiasm is rarely present. I think that it’s unfortunate, very irresponsible, and a reflection of a very real and growing form that has become completely acceptable.
I have to thank Norval for the evening. Perspective is very important, I whole heartedly agree. So let’s apply historical perspective to the issue for the most part, a mess, and the product of this colonial plunder and mismanagement. Now during all of this turmoil and uncertainty and hardship, a great many people fled from such places on the reserve in an attempt to build better lives for themselves are often shat on. Coming from a Native mother and community, I continue to have first hand experience with the realities of this mindset.