particulars of a dream

I never happen to know exactly what to talk about. I belong to a certain class of people who never seem to accomplish anything, and simple as that. Who try to make beautiful things, or beautiful discoveries, but can't. Every line I write conjures up other lines, better lines, from other writers. Every image I paint, conjures up better images from better painters. Every scientific discovery I make already discovered. So again I come to think about the end, death if you will, and how I should stop beating at doors I’ll never enter or anyone will ever ring. So I’m a bit agitated if you will.

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night and scramble to write down the particulars of a dream or whatever. I awoke at 2 in the morning. As always, brewing something cataclysmic. As I sat on my desk looking at something scrawled on my monitor. There were two words written on dust. Help me. A message from days ago, speaking to me. I looked out the window, and wondered as I wrote this.

Uncle John died while in his sleep. He was my late grandmothers’ brother and the last of a generation. Uncle John had came from the reserve to visit us on several occasions; the last time we were in the same room had been during the family funerals nearly 5 years ago for his beloved sister followed by his niece. It’s heart-rending to think that the final moments we had shared together were in such circumstances but through our tendencies of brood emotional history and tears of general confusion he found a place in each of our hearts and brought us hope. I would like to take this opportunity to extend my most heartfelt sympathies to his immediate family and those closest to him. He will be missed. For so long, and good-bye.

I drank a small glass of lemonade, and went back to bed.



I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel like the end of an era. A life without a cause. And while I have said repeatedly that this representation of myself and my work might not be seen again, the last couple of years have left a warm impression on me.

For a lot of years I did not particularly like or have anything in common with anybody. It was an awkward situation, one in which the tension never abated and rarely produced the sort of friendly moments that one expects between people who spend a considerable amount of time together. Looking back, though, I can honestly say that I wouldn’t change it given the chance. The mistakes I made during those years, the trials endured and pains succumbed to, taught me far too valuable a lesson and helped open my eyes to a much larger world. Outsiders often equate such things in terms of their own, but to me that is dwarfed by the quiet, solitary, contentment that I now enjoy in comparison to those years lost in a haze of negativity. Let it be damned. While I am grateful that I have few readers established here, I’m no longer in the sort of place where I’m willing to trade my emotional well being for your mind-sighted product.

That said, things as I imagine can never be for everyone’s absolute pleasure. I acknowledge those of you who I may not have chance of speaking with in person again, to those of you who are diversely talented and utterly professional in your own ways, whom, at some time supported whatever endeavours I saw most fit for myself to experience prior. For that I thank you.

So what now? That’s the big question. I do have to make some tremendously personal changes this year, as I do happen to owe myself. I find myself in a new and strangely exciting position from time to time, so I’m somewhat unfamiliar with the proceedings. Sitting here I know that I cannot waste opportunity, that I must take the sort of chances that I once did, staring into the night’s sky in search of stars while laying undone on a parking lot. I sigh on how once engaging in unknown territory was routine. Hopefully I will do just that, and to the utmost of my ability. To each of you I wish the same, we owe it to ourselves and no less.

wrapping your borrowed head around

As these things often go, the creative impetus goes through a cycle of waxing and waning. Currently it is in a state of wane. It's a time of alacrity dawdling tendencies. Affirmation of how oxymoronic life is.

This site offers a window into only so much I can or may feel the need to tell you. It seems maybe that as the seasons teeter on the brink of change, by many, life itself is questioned for some kind of direction to be established. Don't get us wrong - there is definitely activity. The dilution of democratic freedoms and civil liberties under the auspices of national and economic security. The new fiscal year. Altogether it offers many office groups gossip and speculation as to what the hell resolution necessarily means. Does it really mean management of a new infrastructure? Does it really mean better facilitation? Does it really involve meeting socio-economic needs? Does it really set new challenges with more fluency? Does it really mean policy reform in conjunction with new strategy? Plenty of discombobulated words with axis, charts, and graphs to go around. It may all as well mean a cosmetic change. But of course, I imagine for most public servants, all of it most importantly begs the question, does it mean better accommodations for you know who, if you know what I mean? The unfortunate thing is that all of this falls outside of the mandated subject matter, and as such, my discussion is completely verboten.


During a speech the day before, President Bush said “First of all, the globe is warming. The fundamental debate — is it manmade or natural?” Actually, that’s no longer a debate, at least among the overwhelming majority of scientists.

Natural variation in the Earth’s climate, or changes in solar activity or volcanic eruptions, which have been suggested as alternative explanations for rising temperatures, could not explain the data collected in the real world. In a report to the United Nations, the Environmental Protection Agency says that man-made greenhouse gases in the US will increase 43 percent between 2000 and 2020. And while acknowledging some scientific uncertainties, the EPA says that the recent warming trend “…is real and has been particularly strong within the past 20 years … due mostly to human activities.”

How much longer will Bush keep his head in the sand? For Sean O'Grady, he wrote recently in the ad-filled motoring supplement of The Independent: "...in answer to the many letters we get criticising some of our coverage, we don't make cars. We just write about them. [...] We try to concentrate on telling our readers about the many ways you can enjoy motoring without costing the earth (in any sense)." (O'Grady, 'Sport Utility Vehicles: Don't shoot the messenger. The people who buy SUVs are the problem, not the industry that makes them, or even the motoring press', The Independent, March 7, 2006)

O'Grady went on:

"Why so defensive? Because so much of the criticism dangerously misses the point. Almost every one of us wants to help to save the planet and almost every one of us wants personal transport.

So who, according to the Independent motoring journalist, is to blame?

"The enemies of the planet, the hypocrites if you will, are not the oil companies that refine the petrol or the car companies that make the vehicles, or the journalists who write about them or the advertising industry that markets them or the bankers who lend us money to buy them. The people to blame are the people who buy cars in the first place, without whom none of the vast industry would exist. Now you know who to write letters to."

This is a facile argument on many levels. For instance, consider that corporations spend billions annually to promote their products and to create new markets around the globe. As a philosopher one notes:

"From the point of view of the corporation, the ideal citizen is a kind of insanely rapacious consumer [driven by a] kind of psychopathic version of self-interest." (Quoted in Joel Bakan, 'The Corporation', Constable, London, 2004, p. 135)

Corporations also 'externalise' the environmental and other costs of their products, minimising or avoiding regulation with government connivance - so that society as a whole, and the planet itself, bears the burden. However, O'Grady's article is quite a significant piece of journalism in that, until very recently, any discussion linking advertising, the media, corporations and environmental collapse was simply off the media's agenda. It is a promising sign that the public recognises that those issues are linked and that the media had better take note.

"But we don't talk about that. And, of course, they're very often the people [i.e. the corporations] advertising in the press and in the newspapers in the first place. It's very interesting, the kind of lack of debate at a time, for instance, about the car industry and the future of the car industry. Then you look at the number of car adverts and you begin to wonder, is there a connection? …I shouldn't say that, probably." ('Start The Week', BBC Radio 4, January 16, 2006)

Indeed, you are to be well-rewarded in a media career. If you’re interested in pursuing such a prestigious stint, best to learn not to dwell on such topics or else the sparks of sanity will quickly snuff you out. Referring to the argument that rejecting advertising would almost certainly drive you out of business.

People are readily eased for the dismissal of certain uncomfortable facts, especially those who have not escaped the attention heavy reliance to the crème de la media - indeed all the 'quality' press – advertising let alone produces revenue around 75%. Such dependence only produces one of a series of news filters protecting the public from unpalatable truths about state-corporate power in society. The propaganda model of mainstream media is rarely been mentioned, far less discussed seriously. So why not? From a moral perspective, some would see it as indefensible to be propping up pensions by polluting the planet.

The continued curiosity of utopian thinking hasn't yet grasped that of what the market provides for the best possible hope of eventually achieving ends. More money is already being thrown at renewable energy efficient technologies than the system can possibly cope with or is ever likely to produce a return, a state of affairs that will only be accentuated by President George Bush's State of the Union commitment to end America's addiction to oil [i.e. that of when every lost drop runs out].

Taking the statements of political leaders at face value is a defining characteristic of the corporate media. So too are the bizarre notions that corporations and 'free' markets, heavily skewed to serve the corporate interest, will 'save humanity'.

Law professor Joel Bakan interjects a note of rationality:

"The 'best interests of the corporation' principle, now a fixture in the corporate laws of most countries [compels] corporate decision makers always to act in the best interests of the corporation, and hence its owners. The law forbids any other motivation for their actions, whether to assist workers, improve the environment, or help consumers save money." (Bakan, op. cit., p.37)

The last despairing hope of blinkered media is that shifting a few chairs around at the top of the establishment will save the planet. Market 'sovereignty', an unhealthy fixation on economic 'growth', and the benign intent of corporate and political leaders are unshakeable articles of faith for profit-led media editors and journalists. It is little wonder that such media professionals will forever dispel any critical discussion of present policies, and possible sane alternatives, to the realm of utopian thinking. Utopian worlds as far as some acknowledge, will not and cannot exist but only in ones mind... of course. So continues the warming glow of commerce.

confessions of a dangerous mind

"Al Qaeda conspirator Zacarias Moussaoui helped himself get one huge step closer toward getting the death penalty Monday when he testified that not only did he know about the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks ahead of time but that he and shoe-bomber Richard Reid were supposed to hijack a fifth airplane and fly it into the White House." - Fox News

Now, on to the larger question - just how long before these people thicken the plot and uncover evidence that Moussaoui is in reality, George W. Bush's secret half-brother.

How many times do I need a post relating pains? While bored of the week already in progress, I went back to reading correspondence entries involving a former website of mine dated 2001. The website was host to a whole slew of incoherent high school angst and fervour (mostly profanities). Some of the behaviours vaguely shared between those I've known have happened to linger in my mind on occasion. Looking it over again I began applying a myriad amount of compressions to my sore head. Nothing more than a huge amount of undesired anxiety about my future forecast. After years of refusing to live under that threat, today I find is no more welcoming. At any time a infinite amount of complacency from me happens to conspire. Considering the anxiety, the depression, military atrocities, secrecy, anomalies, isolated life... Most of this may not compute... Please excuse my haphazard thoughts. The thing is worst case scenarios consistently trump everything for reasons being: complete mental preparation.

Suppose I’ve been carrying heavy thoughts with me on what has to be a lackadaisical slope. I’ve been consumed with thoughts over other matters, not even considering that things are different and have changed since then. I was a completely different person from what I know today. Hell, I suppose, revealing this information to myself even has some shock value.

influence for a change

The blogosphere is host to a number of public opinions that are critical to the coming-of-age narrative because they provide the framework for building cultural knowledge. But of course this matter of opinion, open-endedness, or entity is challenged with consequence it seems. As the dark corners of my physical and virtual reality are assaulted in a negative sense, I’ve removed my commentary for good. It’s most unfortunate, but it was necessary.

In the past month, I’ve been sent a number of messages by fanatical reader(s) who seemingly want plenty more of my attention. They’ve admonished me for what they’ve viewed as my lack of understanding about the realities of writing online up to and including my human rights having been inflicted due harm on a number of occasions. Rather than respond privately, which is impossible because the reader(s) are unidentified, I thought I would do it here, I imagine the author(s) will read this and, if they have any counter arguments to make, will make them or respect my rights and put this to rest.


It feels as though a lot of changes are happening, or are on the verge of happening, for me and those closest to me. Some are happy and excited. Some are sad and painful. Some are a result of emotional impulse, and some, if you subscribe to logic, have been foolishly long overdue.

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." - Benjamin Franklin.

I'm not quite convinced of the spectrum of that quote, but I guess we’ll find out, won't we? I've been stubborn and at the very least ‘optimistic’ enough to be questioning my sanity in the process. Somebody else, I don't know who once said to me, "Some people, they don't even know what they don't know. That's just the way they are. So let it go…" From time to time it seems to resonate within me. Nothing. Will. Be. Done.

Humanity is not willing to take responsibility for itself. Not for it's wars. Not for it's appalling poverty. Not for it’s hunger levels. Not for it’s appalling addictions. Not for it’s dead laziness. Not for the well being of others. And not for it's home planet. I sometimes begin to believe we are at an evolutionary dead end. And we are about to be extinct.

As you must excuse my ill mannered exploration of humanity, I’m only brave enough to say that I’m literally frightened to even dare to dream about the ramifications of this blog onto the livelihoods of those closest to me.


Let me say that I agree that Western countries should work to influence change in the Middle East with regards to human rights standards. But it is precisely our support for those government that deny their citizens proper rights that fuels anti-Western sentiment and protects the status quo of so-called normality. Given the inseparability of culture and religion in the region, including political culture, it is to be expected that, at some point, spirituality will be radicalized and co-opted by those that would use violent means to counteract what they view as the diminishment of their rights, culture, and religion by both foreign influences and those that are supported by foreign powers. If the region’s history did not paint such a blatant picture of Western exploitation, perhaps that wouldn’t be the case.

If the majority of those that visit this blog lived in a country in which they were denied a wide variety of rights, rights that most of us take for granted, how would they view those foreign powers that supported the very government that denied them those rights? Even more, when those foreign interests claim liberty and justice among their most precious virtues? Because that is precisely what numerous Western governments are guilty of, Canada included. The reason? Because oil is more important to the industrialized world than human rights.

Be it Western support for Saudi Arabia’s corrupt regime, or turning a blind eye to the criminality of governments with control over potentially exploitable resources (such as Sudan), when it comes down to the choice between the economics of oil and human rights, human rights lose. And that reality has been made possible by the very nations that claim human rights paramount.

So how should the majority in the Middle East react to the hypocrisy of foreign powers that claim to stand for equality, liberty, and the rule of law, yet support the very governments that deny their citizens proper rights? How would you? It’s not enough to say that things will change but that right now the fuel needs of soccer moms in North America are worth supporting regimes that willfully deny their citizens rights. While the United States condemns Syria, it supports Saudi Arabia. While it condemns Iran, it trades nuclear technologies with India, a country that hasn’t signed the Non Proliferation Treaty. Business is business, and human rights are bad for business. And until the people of the United States, of Canada and Great Britain, among many others, wake up to that fact, then nothing is going to change, be there military action or not.

This is precisely what Canadians should be thinking about, not lower taxes (mind you: they're exclusively for the middle and higher class), and not the falsehoods of men in power who do nothing to realistically address it. I know Mr. Martin’s government certainly did not, there were Canadian combat troops in Iraq long before any government led by Mr. Harper. But has anything been done about it? We, as a people, must choose how we wish to represent ourselves to those that have lost faith in us, and for good reason. If we choose to continue this love affair with apathic resigntaion then we cannot claim ourselves shocked if, and when, the sky falls.

It falls to us to bridge the gap, to show those half a world away that we, like them, are not willing to put up with such a disastrous double standard. Call me crazy, but I was raised to believe that in a civilized society people treat others as they, themselves, expect to be treated. Thus, given the evidence, I can only proclaim us Neanderthals, and look to the hopeful possibility of evolution to translate the difference.

nocturnal canvas of silence

What is not broadly understood by almost everyone? The war on Iraq? Climate change? All of it has had no impact on public behaviour what so ever. It's ultimately the product of American hegomony. Respone is met with a strange, distant smile and avert eyes. Mind reels, maybe said with, I wonder what I should eat for dinner tonight? David Bowie...phhhft what kind of man woman is he? Say, sex sure would be nice right about now. Eyes can be read of renewal wrapped in distance, undone, unfurled in a story or a kiss. Eyes speak more honestly than one would ever dare for lack of language. So they enjoy themselves. Who am I to spoil their fun? With this moral dissonance deafening. The battle lines drawn, and the major question all over the country, a coalition of homeowners, anarchists, and internationalists are mustering to fight the future.

Not all these people entirely concerned… merely until their homes are due to be bulldozed for a new road way. More and more of us will never get a good night’s sleep again. But anyone who has joined a broad-based coalition understands the power of this compound of idealism and dogged self-interest.

Not so long ago, we lived in a world that the media regularly told us was being connected in ever more complex ways -- think of all that reporting on globalization in the 1990s. But for the last several years, "just disconnect" might have been the reigning news motto. If you read about the Iraq War, you get Iraq, and generally little else. No Turkey, no Israel, few Syrians, no Saudis, nor Egyptians. Reports on our little Afghan war give you Afghanistan, but certainly nothing about the fighters that, according to Syed Saleesurgent Taliban, based in Pakistani border areas, has been sending to Iraq for training in the new ways of guerrilla warfare. (Think: IEDs and car bombs.) You would never know from stories in the American press that Iran bordered Afghanistan, or that both India and Russia have complex interests and connections to this worldly oil depot. Why exactly this has been so, I leave others to analyze. It has left our major papers strangely demobilized when it comes to offering us a picture of our world and so in an unequal contest with the Bush administration is hard to deny.

Every morning I awake with a start to the chatter of demons, milling in the corridors. I wake to the sight of the restless boy sweating profusely through his thin smile covering the emptiness inside. It peers in from behind masks of the dead in wake. The desperate color that in it's own image... wants to paint the world and render it a endless sea of numbing gray.

With every mile put behind, I feel as though I draw nearer to a destination to which no one should ever aspire. The night is deep. I cross check my watch. I see that the hours have surrendered their slavish attachment to the ghost of the day gone by, and have brought me to the brink.

Words are enough to distract. In company, speaking words is comforting in a reassuring manner. They stand up for a while... perhaps to give some fresh air. But there is an ulterior motive. There always is.

I am a plain and simple man. Everyone is to each their own. In any case, a train is a train, carting people off to various destinations. There will be confusion as to why a person gets off or on. I haven’t the slightest idea of those who have crossed me are, or how they would be identified. After much discussion, it was suggested to the voice fraught with tenderness of fading innocence in tears--the onset of shame--perhaps it is recognized from nightmares.

Neither debated the point, rather, they'd remained speculatively silent.

accelerated voyeuristic age

Nothing. I haven't been sleeping well I’m afraid. Unrecognized cries. Lonelineless ignored. Love is my pain and my pleasure that I will treasure until the day I die. I am watching myself slipping by. I am enduring torture worse than death itself and vanishing. The pain and the sorrow, I ask myself, just one more day at a time. I decline every opportunity to end this self-imposed nightmare. Darkness… taking over…imprisoning me until all I see is absolute horror. A horror. I cannot live. I cannot die. Trapped. I am the master. I am the puppet. I am the type of person who still lives on fantasy island.

Ah, were I to admit to one great mistake besides this blog, or subsequent versions of it, it would be that I have allowed myself to be far too accessible to distraction. Should I feel any better that I live behind closed doors? Over the past, this is something that I, and those closest to me, have addressed and I’ve fought against it by removing a vast majority of content from myself over time, albeit the web, it may not be that of what is altogether.

I know there are those that claim that people in my position should expect incivilities if, and when, I dare to allow others if but a glimpse of myself. I have always found that assertion to be not merely ridiculous, but indicative of an immaturity bizarrely regarded as precious by a great many people. Civility is not something that is abandoned by those that would claim themselves intelligent or decent once they step away from a computer. Being online is, as far as I am concerned, no excuse.

We live in an accelerated, voyeuristic age. That being the case, I believe this blog serves a purpose, which is to allow me a place to comment on current events and share articles that I have found interesting or poignant. I may, on occasion, write about my day to day life of emptiness in muse or the weather but I don’t think that it will be a staple feature. In the days to come I hope time will help amend the page to reflect the focus of the blog so that it’s clearly defined as something other than my sailboat escapist vehicle what have you.

the absurd teachers strike

It should come as no real surprise to anyone by now that the majority of victims to this teachers strike are students, whether or not it’s the teachers or the government to blame. I would wager that things will become resolute but a number of consequences are considerable.

The suspension of classes affect more than 150,000 college students, who are growing increasingly worried about how this may impact their graduation plans, apartment leases, summer employment opportunities, and the list goes on and on. The teachers insist they're fighting for the future of community college education. Their union is demanding smaller class sizes, reduced faculty workload, and a number of other things.

As I've followed through, there's a media blackout in effect while talks continue at Toronto's Royal York Hotel on this 15th day strike of 24 Ontario community colleges. If you’re at all interested in finding up to the minute and dedicated blog cast of news articles following said event, please visit Ontario Teachers Strike Info. I'm also open to sharing other resources and listening.

I have a few fellow friends who are sadly at the other end of the string as this strike continues. If you are a student, I implore you to discuss or write a letter to your teachers and the OPSEU (Ottawa Public Service Employees Union) regarding the damages of this teachers strike (opseu@opseu.org) not only that but I encourage that you take things from different perspectives and to also visit collegestrike.ca where there is a link to have your expressed opinion directed towards the government.

so easily fooled

"Now that most Americans no longer believe in the war, now that they no longer trust Bush and his Administration, now that the evidence of deception has become overwhelming (so overwhelming that even the major media, always late, have begun to register indignation), we might ask: How come so many people were so easily fooled?" - read more

On to another topic. Giving off an exaggerated view of Canadian Aboriginals working in a government log house of full motif, I participated as a model in a photoshoot earlier today to help represent the visible minorities of the federal governments regional department that I work for. So now that it's obvious that anything without depth and dimension have to be taken into consideration, in regards, especially to my audience... Say, is it not interesting to watch the hit meter of mine struggle to maintain any numbers seeing when a good 80 percent of my readers come through other blogs or serach engines only to remain for seconds... obviously they’re captivated.

heart of a problem

The third year was met with another snub over the shoulder. Small bouquets, compassionate poems, warm candles glowing in the night — all these things have grown steadily through the years. In the U.S. and around the world, there’s a calling of both Democrats and Republicans in Congress to perform their Constitutional Duty and hold the criminal Bush/Cheney Administration accountable for their actions.

Pushing my way across the sidewalks downtown where fat cats and rats gun down. I sometimes stand there watching pedestrians stop to pray or just to observe, flickered in the breeze. College students out of education continue to walk the streets lit by a neon constellation where the night sky turns gold due to most gigantic banners and lights that beckon all comers, to exotic lap dances.

Here, retailing is God. A mere hundred metres away the evolving memorial at the Elgin street intersection you’ll often find the bucket men — set on shining the stone to the bodies beating to the shopping frenzy next door. The wailing sounds cascaded over the din produced by other peddlers of materials elevated and prosaic. The Jesus Saves man was there. So were the pocket people for change.

There’s a book that contains "the heart of Islam, a heart people must learn to understand." at the bookstore. Behind a kiosk retailing tourism, pennants, maps, bobble head dolls, was a salesman of racial uplift. And there were other souls lurking about, some selling, most just lumpen, eyes wan from too much time on the street wondering how. But there was talk, much of it voluble and insistent. Death hits us all, but the place was still... alive.

projectile stream of vomit

Yeah, it takes time to create writing, to support human rights and fight against cultural discourse. Having that cohesively work and properly, I might add, across the blog sometimes has me wondering if I would prefer the dump and run style to other essential resources I find interesting now and again. Indeed, I was going to put the effort into creating one large post, but this lunch hour I prefer the deliverance of a package, it’s easier to chunk it up without any more outpost than that. To be quite frank, I'm in a hurry to be out on my way due to some unbeneficial factors contributed to the use of public internet . My health is at risk.

One of the first things I remember about the pedagogical overlords was how they tried to pound into our tiny brains the concept of sharing. We start in pre-school or kindergarten, after that it’s mostly downhill. Over the last few years, there’s been a resurgence of that playground ethos as many gleefully steal music and movies from the entertainment gods. After lamenting the evils of digital rights management, the jealous guard of precious accounts, when it comes to to providences on a voice in opinion you can never go aloof, I think they answer to the secrets of our ways more than news articles often do but then again, not every journalist is a bastard. There are lots of great people out there producing pretty pictures, lovely poetry and contributing their time to open-source projects. I’m for one now allowing you the chance to view my website not only as a home for my journal entries but as a directory to essentials in the world of today that I find interesting. As they say, time to put up or shut up.

I would like to extend to you, "A print ad for women's designer handbags that hurl forth in a projectile stream of vomit from the model's throat." All I can say is...Protein spills are HOT HOT HOT."

eating your own beefcake

I have been AWOL. And I apologize for the paucity of posting wonder this week. I've been spending most of the week drinking coffee and I really don't know how to react when I see that Second Cup has named one of their coffee flavours - I kid you not - the "Rwandan Cup of Hope". Talk about a heavy name for a cup of coffee. 500,000 dead. Add some cream and sugar... "I'll have a large Rwandan Cup of Hope and a cranberry muffin, please.."

There’s a war going on…between South Park and Scientology. If you haven't been following the story, here's the deal. Last fall Comedy Central aired South Park's episode on Scientology. Tom Cruise exerted his influence to keep it from airing in England. Then Isaac Hayes, also a Scientologist nutbar, said he was going to leave the show due to its bigotry against religion. This week Comedy Central was scheduled to air the episode again, but they didn't. They claim it was because they wanted to air the most popular Chef episodes in tribute to Hayes (as if it makes sense to pay tribute to someone who just attacked your network's programming). Critics have suggested that Tom Cruise threatened not to promote Paramount's Mission: Impossible 3 if Comedy Central re-aired the episode (Viacom owns both Paramount and Comedy Central). It would be very easy for Comedy Central to prove that their version of events is accurate: air the episode again soon. They won't. They've even suggested it will be kept off of the season' s DVDs. The Catholic League recently prevented an episode from airing, and now it seems that the Cult of Scientology can do the same. I guess it's not just Islam that has a problem with cartoons.

At first I thought Isaac Hayes was a ridiculous hypocrite for saying he was leaving the show because of its "bigotry". He had no problem with the show mocking Christians, Jews, and Muslims, but attack his beliefs and he's taking his ball and going home. But then I came across some quotes from interviews soon after the episode aired. He seemed like he wasn't very offended at all. So here's what I think happened: The Church made him leave. They said he either had to pick Scientology or South Park. If he kept playing Chef, he'd be a Suppressive Person. So the lesson here is, don't fuck with L. Ron.

And don't give me that "all religions would look this fucked up if you saw them when they were first being created" nonsense. That's true, but it does more to illustrate the craziness of all religions than it does to defend Scientology. It's pure hypocrisy, dammit. So here you’ll find South Park's hilarious depiction of Scientology's higher beliefs.

viva la revolution

I saw V for Vendetta opening Friday. I have to say, it entertained me a bit more than March of the Penguins. That’s not a shot at conservatives (well, maybe a little one) but a mere observation.

When the movie came out, the viewers responded enthusiastically, not exactly towards the amount of special effects that may have been taken to a plateau of high expectancy considering the last superior piece of film making by the Wachowski Brothers (The Matrix Trilogy), but this time the quite essential experience of this film was towards the audacious plotting that expressed gratitude for what is perceived rightly next to a world of persons of unorthodox points of view whose ranks nonetheless appear to be steadily expanding in our reality with every passing year.

"V" (Hugo Weaving) is man who has been tortured by his government, and for twenty years has planned to settle the score one way or another. He meets Evey (Natalie Portman), a young assimilated woman whom he saves from a few despicable government officials. Not taken lightly by his radical opposition, imagination and mystery, Evey’s past and discerns of her life are instinctively reignited from a world of extreme disillusionment. And she joins 'V' in a fight to topple the totalitarian government.

For those who wish to be spared from the messages of intellectual exercise that are delivered, you’ve got a mask, a black outfit, knives, karate, politics and Natalie Portman–need I say more?

What else can I say? I’m seeing it again for the second time later today because it’s a movie that didn't disappoint in the least at my first screening. "V for Vendetta" is the quintessential chicken soup for the activist soul, of which I am fond of. Anyone who knows full well that "it's not the people who should be afraid of the government, but the government who should be afraid of the people", know that this movie will strike a chord in every single fibre of one's yearning for freedom. Viva La Revolution. Eh, Comrades?

stray jacket me from the land of the lost

Every now and then I happen to pick my guitar. I often play a rhythm that is a working progress. It’s as basic as follows, first strike the 6th string from the top to create bass and play a downward stroke, back up again, following a strike to the 5th string, downward, up, until you achieve balance. Rinse and Repeat. The issues of today are entirely blown out of proportion on basic misconceptions, so I’ve wrote about some random jargon. It may not come out as a masterpiece but the idea was truly only made to torture you. So if you like folk music, you may get the beat. And please, if you have a guitar or any other type of instrument lying around, feel free to pick it up and sing along with me to celebrate this St. Patrick’s holiday weekend. -- It all started when your ancestors gave their power over to greedy people, thus began the process compounded on to itself for generation over generations. Today these greedy people created a fake money supply to capitalize on that power and now openly abuse their power, not only because they can but it is their pledge to an allegiance of lies and deceit. We have helped them make so much money. 5% of the population control 95% of the resources and you’re not the bloated one. Hey there Monkey, you are so funky, push my buttons and let’s see if the ticking time bombs go off on the children as we thank them for waving our flag. We’re waving back from the chemical sky that trails down tasty Pepsi dye. The appetizer to your poisoned food supply. Women so fine from China make me my clothing, dildos and Disney paraphenelia display. You have every access to the natural world but you respond with breast implants and liposuction because you love the picture. The picture that represents the realization of Warhol’s... “In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes”... The big picture of wealth and celebrity ‘accidentally’ showing off everything to everyone on the planet who’s destroyed. And you think there's nothing constructive to do but to have sex, watch T.V., gossip, and party on a St. Patty’s Day. There’s an entire industry full of the distaff who do the exact same thing every day, and aside from the biggest names of them all, they aren’t nearly as well-known as this vapid dork. And really - what has been done that’s any different than from anyone so if you can get world-renowned for doing something anyone can do, the bar has been dropped substantially. Hell, the bar doesn’t even exist anymore. So based on that, I say let’s make any and all of these Naked ladies and dudes famous people. I mean, really? What’s the difference? At least these folks can probably use the cash that comes with fame. And from the looks of it, they’re desperate to do anything. Anything. So let’s give it up for the random chick with the grossly oversized labia; at least her shit’s a little different than the guy with the thick-ass-Coke-can. So tough it out and stand with your fellow man for two in one hole is better than one; they’re going where even angels fear to tread but we’re giving it up for a mannequin who plays peek-a-boo. Championing mediocrity has replaced the national pastime and I’m afraid the veracious intellectually challenged mystery that makes up my key demographic for the first time in years will find this disjunct voice of reason. To become the perfect fast food designed to kill you and you want it supersized. The movies and video games are designed to destroy minds and you buy more, more, more. As everything around you is designed to keep you in slavery, so poor, poor, poor. Popes, cardinals and priests are fucking with your spirituality and you give them money before on Sunday all-you-can-eat buffet. Yes my dear, as you’re reading this you may find a worldwide holocaust. A loving being who thinks being dark is cool if you're still thinking at all. You are not alone, we have all lived the same plot but with a different dream. I know what it feels like to be you. You to be me. And we know what it feels like to be us. So lets join the hands, put down the pop, burgers, porn, and remote controls. Come and be with us and we can show you how to be yourself. Regenerate not degenerate. Love the world more than you have been taught or shown by example by those around you. Be loving toward those who attempt to hurt you....for only then will you love yourself too. Go into the night and celebrate that love you bring forth for all of mankind. Peace and love and all that crap. Some random chick with the grossly oversized labia. Stray jacket me from the land of the lost.

harmful empowerment

I was thinking about the rise of structured shared knowledge becoming something less Aristotelian and more synaptic. I was wondering if, sometime in the not-too-distant future, our hive minds will systematically exterminate the human race - beginning, of course, with the advertisers, then moving on to the bloggers. And while I was washing my face, thinking about what would make some great blog fodder, unfortunately I came to staggering hault.

I spent the remainder of the evening in the cold bleak heart of the city, against the blowing a skingy wind that cuts to the very soul. It is in this dense bitterly cold fog that the moisture danced and sparkled in the streetlights. Divine sparks suddenly and spontaneously lit up deep in the network leading me to where I emote.

Stephen Harper, who would rather be right - at least in terms of his principles - visited Afghanistan just the other day where he pretty much unsheathed his knife for a so called 'just war' for Canada's role in international leadership. It boiled down to issues of taste and judgement for Canadians inside and outside of the country.

I'm not sure about the ‘cutting and running’ part of things, but it's certainly a direct attack on our own sanctity. The presence of blood, especially in situations where no blood should exist. Moreover, Mr. Harper voluntarily going about (and as a figure of speech) with blood on his clothing is culturally insane against Canadians and with once was, peacekeeping. Oh, there may be good reason for it, in some particular cases, but the default impression of onlookers can go before the fact that we’re technically overstepping the boundaries for what is said to be ‘only’ a representative situation of our capabilites.

All over the world, we’re left to ourselves with varying reactions ranging from bemused indifference to deep disgust, the ones in the Middle East are living with daily reminders that freedom's goods are for someone other than themselves. And that the use to which the West puts their 'freedom' is, by and large, to piss on their human rights, and this on top of taking their land, their resources, appropriating the cool bits of their cultures, co-opting their governments, shooting at them...

So it seems to be a stance of, "…our fight is okay, yours is offensive." In a modern Western gestalt, one simply can't make such an argument and be taken seriously. But a modern Western viewpoint isn't the only one operating in this conflict; there's also the viewpoint of ordinary public mess and then, instead of cleaning it up, we’re wallowing in it.

But I still think it's a social good and social duty to question limitations, and it's because of this that I can understand and acknowledge the viewpoint that holds this sort of thing is wrong and shouldn't be done. That's the heart of free expression, as I see it. Sometimes it's worth exactly what you pay for it, but even then, it's better than the alternative.

pyjama shambles

Unconscious. Comatose. Something not entirely right with my brain. From time to time it plays nasty terrible tricks on me. I have to spend a lot of time second guessing it. Flipping channels on the television seems to work. Wiping tears from my face I see there’s sports on one channel. Are there any sports I like? Only certain moments, when you see the bullfighter get gored by the bull or a racing car explode into a ball of flames. With one hand over my mouth I switched the channel with the other. Do you like Fashion TV? It can only be watched in one way. Really? How’s that? Muted. There’s irritation in my appeal to most things. The executive decision to lay in bed and hole up the day away or pick up that phone and dial someone who cares. The whole afternoon I had taken a break and from time to time I would surf through my e-mail. “Anything new?” someone had asked. Noticing that my posts were getting fewer and further between, I asked myself what was cutting into my blogging time. I’ve got to cut it straight, I’m a astronaut by day and a internaut by night. Most of the space I occupy may very well be inside a bottle set afloat in the ocean.

I have this feeling that everyone who has happened to have encountered me in the past and present has something satanic to say about me. I clear my throat now and again and curse in my cowardice to protest but I know there is something satanic about myself. It’s not a coincidence I stepped into that elevator. Up or down, no one knew where it would go. No matter the circumstance, it is all behind me. That what doesn’t make any sense in the first. The silence that gathers so I could hear my own heart beating.

Maybe it would help if I clarified like a hot knife through butter. But I won’t talk about myself, about personal things. The past full of blanks and gaps. Don’t expect me to tickle your idle curiosity. Dare I divulge like some old fogey. Not a chance. I was raised by a pack of liberal wolves premature to thoughts of conservative surroundings, prejudice to the bone who can’t stand the new generation of consumer products and unintelligable diction and garish clothes of mutiplied brand names. Inferiotated by older generations too, the Establishment, especially law firms and drug companies.

One day I was asked, “Do you ever actually think... or do you just spit out words like a wired doll? Prejudices, sweeping statements, generalisations-you never seem to get beyond that.“

“Sweeping statements are the only kind worth listening to. It seems to me balanced opinions are for bores and third-rate minds.“

“Must you always talk in aphorisms and faux profundities? Who are you trying to be? And who made you the grand arbiter of taste and beauty? Who gave you that title? Why do you despise people who are different from you?“

“I despise people who are like me as well.“

“You hate everything and everybody. Soon enough, if this keeps up, you’re going to be nothing but an embittered middle-aged cynic.“

“Middle-aged? Please, I was a cynic in kindergarten.“

I suppose I have just as many if not more distractions that tinker away from my usual. It’s life in general. Its the wear and tear of things picking up and moving. Like walking without being against a tide of conditions. Right now I’m with it, by that I mean myself and nothing less. That’s not to say that everything is hunky dory, or that I’m getting anywhere, only that I’m getting nowhere faster than usual. Faster than lately, I should say. Who ever gets anywhere anyway?

Someone has to say it, so it might as well be me - man isn’t entertainment these days just embarrassing. I went into a convulsion of endless possibilities. To when I was younger and I thought art would fill the vacuum of my space, the void opened by decay. That the world’s problems could be healed, or alleviated, by art… that great non-dogmatic portal to something recaptured or invented so beautifully. That, and who thought it would be a good idea to put Ben Mulroney on television? Talk a while, have some coffee, go to the toilet, talk some more, have lunch, make some phone calls, talk some more, another 1000 people die, have a breath mint.

I hear about those people I once knew, I hear “They’re really going places!” Maybe, but they’ll be back.

tired parts of mine

If you were interested enough to have noticed, I came out of seclusion to reveal to you a little secret of mine. Without further ado, here's my new benevolent spring look for you, baby. Version: 2,608 somewhere. Some of it looks familiar, some of it doesn’t and just looks good. All I can say is have a look, decide for yourself, and get back to me.

enough to be released

Posted by daneatkinson last year: no fame so i cut off all my fingers 02.25.05/21:45PM - This morning I was woken by the shrill of my alarm clock. I sat up in bed. What odd dreams I've been having. Not unsettling, or frightening, but - odd. I opened my mouth wide and put my fingers inside of my mouth followed by the insides of my lips. There seemed to be a number of chaps, rough area and frayed bits of skin. I took one silver of skin from my lower lip between my thumb and finger and pulled. Doing so made my lip smart; which in turn made me wonder why on earth did I do that? Which makes me wonder about a great many things. Like games of cryptic crossword puzzles.

People speaking like their politicians whom think they're celebrities and vise versa. Have you ever known a politician, movie star, or celebrity give a straight answer to a question? Of course not. And I'll tell you why: because celebrity is about evasion. A celebrity is somebody evading the fundamental truth - that they don't matter. Nobody matters. Everybody exists, nobody has value. Eventually the sun will explode and swallow the earth. Eventually the universe will die a cold death. What will celebrity matter then? Nothing. In order to inhabit celebrity it is necessary to avoid the truth, or else it corrodes your fame. Hence double-talk.

The Academy awards will be taking place this weekend but you won't find me in front of the television. On the red carpet they'll say we're very much in love, I'm even wearing a vial of my life-partner's blood around my neck to signify our eternal connection, and three months later they're both with other people. They'll say it was a joy and a pleasure working with X, when what they mean is I hate him, he stole my limelight, I wish he were dead. They'll say before I collect this award I'd like to thank to following people, when what they mean is Me! Me! I did it! My glory! I'm at a state of annoyance shifted along side a kind of desperate pleading. I really don't understand much at all. Can't it just tell me what is going on? What do you think? What are you, anyway?

If you were to ask me I'd say I'm the guy who's about to start his own country. I would make it sound like some roller coaster laden paradise when in fact it would be nothing more than an island laced with high-powered explosives. And, after killing thousands of innocent people, I'd go on 60 Minutes and tell everyone I was the leader of a worldwide death cult. End post.

fwd >>

I’ve been away from the limelight I must admit. The weekend has its side-effects and sometimes I myself never want to escape from it. In fact, to my amazement I finally lifted my hand in painting with wax candles and oil paints on canvas. A first to heal myself in sometime and to erect some artistic abilities from the usual florid psychotic episode of writing.

So, the big news is the 78th Academy Awards, when watching it you'll never know there was a war going on. You wouldn't know that the U.S. President has admitted to impeachable offences, illegally spying on citizens, or that Patriot Act 2 was just confirmed, making McCarthyism seem more like the not-so-distant future than the past. In a fairly common combination of self-congratulation and cowardice, Sunday nights Oscar movie award extravaganza failed to say much at all but what else should we expect, really? This is, after all, the big awards of Hollywood not Hands Across America. But perhaps we expect more because Hollywood says a lot about where our culture is heading. As George Clooney had said in his acceptance speech, "We're the ones who talk about AIDS when it was just being whispered, and we talked about civil rights when it wasn't really popular. And we, you know, we bring up subjects.”

Is Hollywood feeling the free speech chill that comes from living in a time when this administration calls any dissent traitorous, or do these folks really just not have that much to say?

But what did you want? ...that's right...Jon Stewart. He really did well I might add and had some interesting digs at the Bush administration, which I wasn't sure everybody in the audience got. He lead a cry of "No Blood For Oil!" and told everyone that they should be Artists Who Say Something?

But of course, these folks are entertainers. You have to give them a hand that the movies they made this year really did push the envelope if rather inadequately for many tastes, but that's all they could be expected to do. Progressives love Artists and love to think the artist is above all these petty concerns and can do the visionary thing. But often, what is forgotten, is that artists especially in Hollywood have to make a living and political activism really isn't an actor's job description. Though it is nice when they take part, and helpful.

Could somebody have said something with Meaning? Well, if you were attentive enough you may have found comfort in the knowledge that at least the movie themes this past year have spoken to true issues, including:

A) Ethics in Writing/Publishing: Capote;
B) Gender Identity Rights Issues: TransAmerica;
C) Homosexual Union Rights: Brokeback Mountain;
D) Illegal and Unethical CIA Covert Operations: Syriana;
E) Corporate Assassinations and Covert Operations: The Constant Gardener;
F) Racism and Police Corruption: Crash;
G) Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll: Walk the Line; and finally,
H) The Risks Associated with the Scientific Modification of Food Products: Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbit.

Finally, If I cared what the Academy thought of music I'd probably have a beret on and be drinking a latte at this shameless stereotype. Over at PopPolitics, Jacyln has some words about the Oscars first-ever rap performance ("It's Hard Out There for a Pimp" from the film "Hustle & Flow"). Short story was that "bitches" will be allowed, while the F-word and the N-word weren't. As a whole, Jacyln's reaction sums it up neatly:

"To review. Saying "fuck," a word, however crude, for a very basic sex act that most adults enjoy, is totally offensive and can not only get you major league fined by the FCC but is way too awful to even think about saying on the hallowed Academy stage. But calling a woman a bitch -- saying, to be conservative, that she is equivalent to a dog -- that's totally OK. And using that word in the context of this song about how hard it is for a pimp -- a man who sells women for a living -- in the soundtrack to a movie about said pimp and how great and misunderstood he is: also completely fine."

Gee, a song about pimps worrying about rent, Cadillac’s and gas money.

Pure Genius.

much ado about nothing

A] Why do people waste their time criticizing you so much (like typing 500 page stories about how they hate you) if they hate you?

I give smart ass answers.

B] Why do you always give smart ass answers?

I'm a smart ass.

C] Why are you giving me snappy, smart ass answers?

We've been over that.

What more is there to utter? It’s utterly udder less. As in not having a vehicle for which to deliver milk to the young sheep. Do you get the picture, if not the frame? I stare all around and envision the walls bleeding wax, but no one will tell me I’m looking dullard unless they truly care. And then they may not just for that very reason to think better of themselves. Thus it’s impossible to predict.

I’ve tried reading more literature. I find the best strategy is to read all the best material that you can get your hands on, avoid your favourite things that are dangerous to your mind and body and partake only when absolutely necessary with modicum of sensibility. I’m not only talking about what you may think, as in the booze or gibbons, I’m talking to you about watching too much Dr. Phil. Displacing the hours and cents on internet debauchery or other benumbed involvement. You could be using that time and money to find yours truly on the internet and give him a donation. I mean the thought would be nice. And then he could tell you, nope, give it to the community or children living in poverty...

As for the weekend, who knows what it may hold. For one, I may be harbouring a plan with some old friends visiting from university. The likely scenario may involve excessive smiling and feeble protestations about our levels of inebriation while discussing how we can't decide which is worse, poetry readings, book readings or spoken word. I may very well give up my drivel to read off a menu in a pretentious long drawn out voice.

"Steak.... with peppercorn sauce? To green beans of tabasco... the buttered mashed potato."

secular material divination

The blistering cold and howling winds, combined with nothing to do and nowhere to go, had me holed up for days. Not until yesterday night when I finally left the house in mind of having to run one essential errand but left with several. Near the end of the day, after volunteering to move someones furniture and visiting my cousins’ place, I travelled outside of town to a place specializing in furniture design. I’d been recently looking for a new chair for guests to have a seat within my office/bedroom, and thought of going there. I essentially did not bother purchasing a chair because the prices were from the world of tomorrow and the designs weren’t particularly what I had in mind. So I bought a plant instead and I must admit it gave my room new life. Now the question stands; can I take care of it?

Now that the Olympics are over, I’m thinking, perhaps some of the Canuck media will cast their hazel stares to the East where Iraq shivers on the brink of civil war. Or maybe not. As of these days, hockey and a bungled murder case of two Canadians in Mexico occupy our elevator shafts and city streets. Interesting, yes. A possible world-shaping event? No.

Perhaps we should navel-gaze a little more and ask ourselves this. Where have our heads gone? Now I know my mental attitude is unbelievably hard to deal with but bare with me. I just have a hard time ever being in a good mood to describe anything. Sorry for the hiatus but moving onward...

OTTAWA - "Federal Justice Department employees have played fast and loose with travel and hospitality rules and cost taxpayers a bundle, an internal audit reveals." -Ottawa Sun

I sat in a boardroom the other day. There was a reflection that this medium of communication is transformative for our departmental organization and to remember that there is a bifurcation between people who are comfortable with media v.s. those that are not.

What I noticed in this small group in relatively small space, was that it was a lot harder to be invisible. Being the youngest at the round table, I worked extra hard not to be too large a presence. Unseen and unobtrusive as possible, while still being present, I was busy not-doing (more than usual). Overall, I had lots of time to observe the inner activity as we discussed these results of this outstanding slap on the wrist from the media.

Not that I have anything against instruction, but I personally think instruction is a pointless exercise on educating how a problem should be assessed. Now, facilitation is not usually seen as a spiritual practice, but I think I can now heartily recommend it to any serious student of any spiritual path. If you are looking to come face to face with all your stuff, to engage with your own long dark night of the soul--facilitation is good hunting ground.

During the hours while everyone else was deep in juicy conversation and dialogue, I was sitting/standing/pacing around listening to my brain do a number on my ego by inventing all sorts of stories about what was happening with those gathered and the day. Thank goodness I know that this is not about me and that I have faith in the professional folks I work along side.

I have gone to the point now, where this aspect of holding space is as close to fun as it's ever going to get. Sometimes, when I know I am dreaming, I either go along for the ride and if I like it I try to learn something. I know what my head is telling me right now is utter fabrication but, of course, faith is not real unless it has something to test it and or challenge it, right? So I feel my inner voices telling me right now that they are necessary in order to strengthen my understanding. At least that's my story at this point.

So there I was, for hours and hours, watching this incredible dance inside myself. Aware of the space I am holding. Aware of those gathered. Aware of my insecurities and frailties. And just sitting with it. But what is it about this facilitating that in order to truly serve those we host, we must lose faith in ourselves and everything else except those who are on the voyage with us?