I've put up some more Moderately New Stuff, as is often the case when things start changing. Added a whole bunch of blogs that should have been linked a while ago. I hope you guys and girls don't mind. Changed a few names, updated Intolerant (formerly Developments of a Computer Science Geek), etc. We lost Dan U's "Banned from the Back Porch," as both the blog and the profile for Mr. Ubdegrove have up and disappeared.
I also added a new comic link, for Sam and Fuzzy. Perhaps one of my favorite contemporary online comics. Highly enjoyable, if you can get by the fact that the comics have a continuity, and you pretty much have to go right back to the start to understand what is going on.
Heh. I think we have the start of an online community on our hands. What should we be called?
Saturday, July 30, 2005
A piece by any other name...
So, the Doom trailer is out. How the cretins think they could make a movie out of a successful video game like Doom, and still involve The Rock, some random M-16's, and other shitty surgeoned bits and pieces of the original Doom storyline, is beyond me. Maybe if the fuckers actually bothered to play the games, they'd have an idea that after Doom III, there is no fucking need to make a movie. You can't top the media experience of actually being in the goddamned action. Unless you're selling to a pack of vegetables, who are unable to sit down at a computer and boot up the game to play for themselves.
You guys, the movie watchers, do me a favour. Boycott the Doom movie. Boycott it until it's released onto DVD. Then we'll go buy a stack of them, throw them in the microwave until they pop like fireworks, and then fire the charred corpses back at their makers via a large and unwieldy catapult. And then we'll all go home and play the real Doom, and let Hollywood ponder the deep messages we left them in amongst the blackened remains of their bastard brainprojects.
Unless, of course, the idea department of Hollywood happens to be a cult of demonic spirits that were teleported from a rift on Mars into the very nervous centre of North America, and there, they thrived on the inane and vapid ambitions of Hollywood. Thus becoming as much a part of it's corruption, as it became a part of theirs.
Muhahaha.
Oh, and the oil and tranmission fluid in my car got changed today. There are few things as rank smelling as used transmission fluid. Oh well, small price to pay to keep my stone age wagon up and running.
G'damn, I'm tired. Work, so long. Sleep, so short. And I daydream way too much.
You guys, the movie watchers, do me a favour. Boycott the Doom movie. Boycott it until it's released onto DVD. Then we'll go buy a stack of them, throw them in the microwave until they pop like fireworks, and then fire the charred corpses back at their makers via a large and unwieldy catapult. And then we'll all go home and play the real Doom, and let Hollywood ponder the deep messages we left them in amongst the blackened remains of their bastard brainprojects.
Unless, of course, the idea department of Hollywood happens to be a cult of demonic spirits that were teleported from a rift on Mars into the very nervous centre of North America, and there, they thrived on the inane and vapid ambitions of Hollywood. Thus becoming as much a part of it's corruption, as it became a part of theirs.
Muhahaha.
Oh, and the oil and tranmission fluid in my car got changed today. There are few things as rank smelling as used transmission fluid. Oh well, small price to pay to keep my stone age wagon up and running.
G'damn, I'm tired. Work, so long. Sleep, so short. And I daydream way too much.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Cut
I have to write this down before I forget it as I sleep.
Self Harm
Every stroke of the pen across the paper
Is a scar upon my soul.
Every word I've said,
is a knife to cut myself.
I bleed things richer and deeper,
than blood and tears.
Black and blue and green and dark,
self-harm of all colours and shapes.
I promised I would not harm this body,
this awkward little vessel,
So instead I cut the tissue,
that binds my very soul.
But instead of pain and relief,
I found something else.
In the midst of my darkest times,
I found the light in the mist.
Please, if you or someone you know is harming themselves, by means physical or metaphysical, intervene the best you can. Get a doctor involved if need be, but most of all, be a pillar, a column of support for your friends and family. Even with your own flaws and worries, a small action can make the difference between healing and breaking.
Self Harm
Every stroke of the pen across the paper
Is a scar upon my soul.
Every word I've said,
is a knife to cut myself.
I bleed things richer and deeper,
than blood and tears.
Black and blue and green and dark,
self-harm of all colours and shapes.
I promised I would not harm this body,
this awkward little vessel,
So instead I cut the tissue,
that binds my very soul.
But instead of pain and relief,
I found something else.
In the midst of my darkest times,
I found the light in the mist.
Please, if you or someone you know is harming themselves, by means physical or metaphysical, intervene the best you can. Get a doctor involved if need be, but most of all, be a pillar, a column of support for your friends and family. Even with your own flaws and worries, a small action can make the difference between healing and breaking.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Language Barrier
"The discs?"
I'm sorry?
"The discs?"
Yes, what about the discs?
*Blank expression*
"The discs?"
Many of you might think this would be an immigrant speaking, someone who is just starting to get the hang of the English language. No. People learning to speak English, while they might not speak in complete sentences, speak in complete thoughts, so I can usually decipher what they're saying. This unfortunate pity case of an individual appeared to be a natural Canadian, judging from the lack of accent (the only other option would be an American visitor or immigrant, but it's mere semantics). Anyway, this person had such difficulty stringing more than two words into a sentence, that he eventually up and walked away in a huff. I guessed that the nature of his inquiry was to find the location of our bulk CD's, but having walked past them twice, I figured this gentleman would have seen them on his way.
I was wrong. Perhaps it was a mental illness... but I've never heard of someone with any kind of illness being left on their own while shopping in a busy warehouse, nor have I ever had a discussion with a handicapped person who didn't at least try to put more than two words together.
This one left me wondering and scratching my head for the better part of an hour. It makes me wonder about the adage "The Customer is Always Right." What happens when the customer can't even effectively communicate their wishes or confusion? What happens when they know what they want, but are so ineffectual at communicating that desire that they end up breaking some rules, or even leaving emptyhanded? Are they still right?
I, for one, enjoy the benefits of working for my employer. While we strive to provide the best possible service to the customer (and we often do), it is the first job I've worked for that has set out guidelines for when a customer is no longer in the right, and lays out expressly when an employee may stop rendering service to a customer.
Still, it leaves me wondering though...
If a customer can only communicate in Moron, are we obliged to respond in kind?
I'm sorry?
"The discs?"
Yes, what about the discs?
*Blank expression*
"The discs?"
Many of you might think this would be an immigrant speaking, someone who is just starting to get the hang of the English language. No. People learning to speak English, while they might not speak in complete sentences, speak in complete thoughts, so I can usually decipher what they're saying. This unfortunate pity case of an individual appeared to be a natural Canadian, judging from the lack of accent (the only other option would be an American visitor or immigrant, but it's mere semantics). Anyway, this person had such difficulty stringing more than two words into a sentence, that he eventually up and walked away in a huff. I guessed that the nature of his inquiry was to find the location of our bulk CD's, but having walked past them twice, I figured this gentleman would have seen them on his way.
I was wrong. Perhaps it was a mental illness... but I've never heard of someone with any kind of illness being left on their own while shopping in a busy warehouse, nor have I ever had a discussion with a handicapped person who didn't at least try to put more than two words together.
This one left me wondering and scratching my head for the better part of an hour. It makes me wonder about the adage "The Customer is Always Right." What happens when the customer can't even effectively communicate their wishes or confusion? What happens when they know what they want, but are so ineffectual at communicating that desire that they end up breaking some rules, or even leaving emptyhanded? Are they still right?
I, for one, enjoy the benefits of working for my employer. While we strive to provide the best possible service to the customer (and we often do), it is the first job I've worked for that has set out guidelines for when a customer is no longer in the right, and lays out expressly when an employee may stop rendering service to a customer.
Still, it leaves me wondering though...
If a customer can only communicate in Moron, are we obliged to respond in kind?
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Foam Tiles
Today, mankind failed me.
The shuttle took off, and amidst NASA's assurances that they had improved the design for the fuel module, a sizable chunk of foam fell off. So, let me get this straight... you're putting an ancient rocket into space, after a supposed overhaul, when said overhaul accomplished nothing and wasted hundreds of thousands of dollars. So NASA, you reduced the amount of foam used on the fuel module, but is that foam stuck onto that tank any better than before? I don't fucking think so. So you've suspended your shuttle program again. I think you, your bureaucrats, and your entire fucking government should be suspended too. Put the whole lot of you out on a limb where you've left your astronauts.
The progression of science is nothing to your 90 day bean counters, and your fucking politicians. NASA, you broke your own safety rules in even launching the shuttle. Where was your supposed review? Does your people in space mean that little to you that you would send them up in a decrepit bottle rocket, made of crumbling foam and raging fire? Would you send your boys to Iraq in Seaking helecopters, armed with nothing but their vests, helmets, and piantball guns?
Would you put the future of the entire human race into a six figure budget?
Would you entrust the safety of a mission to foam tiles, when you know they fail? NASA, you've already ignored the more expensive, but ultimately more effective solutions put forward.
NASA, you nebulous concept, wrangled by the politicians and enslaved by the War President, when are you going to get your act together?
And you, the people, when are you going to see the significance of this?
The shuttle took off, and amidst NASA's assurances that they had improved the design for the fuel module, a sizable chunk of foam fell off. So, let me get this straight... you're putting an ancient rocket into space, after a supposed overhaul, when said overhaul accomplished nothing and wasted hundreds of thousands of dollars. So NASA, you reduced the amount of foam used on the fuel module, but is that foam stuck onto that tank any better than before? I don't fucking think so. So you've suspended your shuttle program again. I think you, your bureaucrats, and your entire fucking government should be suspended too. Put the whole lot of you out on a limb where you've left your astronauts.
The progression of science is nothing to your 90 day bean counters, and your fucking politicians. NASA, you broke your own safety rules in even launching the shuttle. Where was your supposed review? Does your people in space mean that little to you that you would send them up in a decrepit bottle rocket, made of crumbling foam and raging fire? Would you send your boys to Iraq in Seaking helecopters, armed with nothing but their vests, helmets, and piantball guns?
Would you put the future of the entire human race into a six figure budget?
Would you entrust the safety of a mission to foam tiles, when you know they fail? NASA, you've already ignored the more expensive, but ultimately more effective solutions put forward.
NASA, you nebulous concept, wrangled by the politicians and enslaved by the War President, when are you going to get your act together?
And you, the people, when are you going to see the significance of this?
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
A Cult of Clouds
This leviathan was hovering around my house today, expanding for a few hours, shrinking a bit, and finally mushrooming just before twilight hit. Unfortunately, its rain fell elsewhere, so I was left with nothing but dark skies and cool winds. And this picture.
I've been imagining what it would be like to fly through one of these clouds, sans aircraft. Supposedly, it's like falling through really cold fog, with the occasional bit of hail. Definitely something I'd like to do on my own some day. Either that, or hang-glide through one (read as: paragliding through clouds is equivalent to suicide. Do not attempt this).
My day off has ended. Look forward to a few more rants from work, and possibly a rant about the "Bomb Threat" downtown today, that involved a little black bag, some books, a bottle of soap or shampoo, and a whole lot of zipper-lipped police.
Nonchalant Thunderstorms
Perhaps my best macro to date. I just felt like rolling the camera out today, and the end result was some unexpectedly good pictures around the garden, and of the clouds that are lining up to storm later tonight.
School will be starting back up in roughly a month, and I find myself looking forward to it, although I can well imagine that my future self will be scolding himself for doing so. It's going to be busy in the coming year, and I fear this blog may take a hit in terms of updates as a result.
Critics rejoice.
Freedom, amongst other things
I have the day off.
I bought the new Foo Fighter's CD 2 pack, insofar as I've been able to listen, it's been really good. I can't listen for more than five songs on my laptop though, as the constant hum and vibration of the CD fan makes it too noisy to hear most of what's going on in the music. I'm going to have to break out the diskman and soundproof headphones.
Oh, and apparently, there was an earthquake in Montana. A 5.6, if S isn't mistaken. The oddities in this world just keep adding up. Perhaps one of these days, it'll just spontaneously explode. Or pop like a balloon. Or fall in on itself.
Or, favorably, somebody will pinch me and I'll just wake up under sapphire skies on some grassy hill somewhere, after having fallen pleasantly asleep for the afternoon.
As a journalist, my work will be cut out. Rather than bringing the news to you, I'll skip the middleman and just visit the calamity to your front door. It's not very far away as we speak. If it's not more flooding, we now have tornadoes, earthquakes, and the possibility of a volcano to deal with.
One need only cock an ear. The very Earth itself winds like a clock.
I bought the new Foo Fighter's CD 2 pack, insofar as I've been able to listen, it's been really good. I can't listen for more than five songs on my laptop though, as the constant hum and vibration of the CD fan makes it too noisy to hear most of what's going on in the music. I'm going to have to break out the diskman and soundproof headphones.
Oh, and apparently, there was an earthquake in Montana. A 5.6, if S isn't mistaken. The oddities in this world just keep adding up. Perhaps one of these days, it'll just spontaneously explode. Or pop like a balloon. Or fall in on itself.
Or, favorably, somebody will pinch me and I'll just wake up under sapphire skies on some grassy hill somewhere, after having fallen pleasantly asleep for the afternoon.
As a journalist, my work will be cut out. Rather than bringing the news to you, I'll skip the middleman and just visit the calamity to your front door. It's not very far away as we speak. If it's not more flooding, we now have tornadoes, earthquakes, and the possibility of a volcano to deal with.
One need only cock an ear. The very Earth itself winds like a clock.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Enter: Hillary
I have a confession to make.
I slept with Hillary.
Yes, a Hillary brand sleeping bag, replete with super-soft batting and a built-in pillow. There is no better sleeping bags out there. I guarantee, whether your are sleeping in one, or on top of one, there is nothing that compares to the fluffy, silky softness of one of these things.
Sorry if I made anyone jealous earlier, a sleeping bag is good, but not as good as a person.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
The Valley
This is just a green valley during summer, but during the winter, it's my favorite place to go sledding. Burn the neighborhood parents who say I'm too old to be menacing the sled hills, this is my turf in the winter, and I'll be damned if I just stop because I'm "too old."
In other news, my parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary today, courtesy a secret supper planned by my brother. It was pretty fun, although I think my wine glass was filled one too many times. Much stumbling and fumbling results. More debauchery tommorrow, a sort of house party, minus the mess, and the stupidity.
Frankly, I need the relaxation, and I can tell you that I'm not the only one. I'm thinking of about four people right now who deserve a party. You know who you are.
You'd be surprised how well I can work a camera when I'm completely inebriated.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Terra
Some days, the world just seems to bend around you, as if you were genuinely a part of it, and it a part of you. Some days, you feel alienated from it, as if the air you breathe was as foreign as Jupiter.
Some days, I dream about green grass, flowing waters, and cabins in the mountains. Some days, I have nightmares about oil derricks, powerlines, and the black smog of industry.
There are even some days, when I swear I should be dreaming, but I'm not.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Throw the Day Away
So... today was almost a complete loss. I went out, got a new pair of sandals, walked the dog, and then just pissed the rest of the day away. Of all the productive things I could be doing, I decided to just kick around, drink a Jones, and play some Advent Rising. Great storyline on that game, by the way. Excellent, if somewhat corny storyline. Animation and action in it though is pretty poor though. I just start mashing the punch, dodge, and timeshift buttons, and stuff starts dying. It's too confusing to co-ordinate, and I've died a few times in the midst of altering the very fabric of reality.
There is so much more I want to rant about, but I can't even put words to the feeling, or feeling to the problem, so I'm just going to try sleeping on it. Or maybe, just forgetting it. Seems to be the fashionable thing to do, nowadays. Don't complain, it could be worse, they tell me, sitting there, sipping cogniac, eating shrimp, and flirting with dynasty.
What in the flying fuck do any of us North Americans know about being worse? That's some deep shit, and worthy of a night's rest and thought. See, put a feeling to a problem. And voila, a rant.
There is so much more I want to rant about, but I can't even put words to the feeling, or feeling to the problem, so I'm just going to try sleeping on it. Or maybe, just forgetting it. Seems to be the fashionable thing to do, nowadays. Don't complain, it could be worse, they tell me, sitting there, sipping cogniac, eating shrimp, and flirting with dynasty.
What in the flying fuck do any of us North Americans know about being worse? That's some deep shit, and worthy of a night's rest and thought. See, put a feeling to a problem. And voila, a rant.
Blue Buds
Blue flowers in macro. Am I hopeless romantic by photographing these? Am I completely psychotic because I'm listening to heavy metal right now, that's demanding that I lay low the entire world? Are we all nuts, because we please ourselves without even a second thought?
Naw, don't worry about it. Just enjoy the fucking picture.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Crossroads are for the lucky
Some great philosopher once said that in everyone's life, they come to a crossroads. Well, he was wrong.
This is an alleyway nearby my house. It was looking abnormally symmetrical today, so I snapped a picture. It's part of the pathway I use to get my bike from home onto the Bow River Pathway (which technically doesn't exist anymore, due to the flood). Unless I get the calling to go down into Fish Creek and snap some more pictures, this may be the last time I walk down this particular alleyway. Oh well, at least it was a good day for walking.
Eudamonia
Some days, you just want to lay out in the sun and go to sleep. Today was just such a day. It was warm, but not hot. The wind was breezy, but not blustery. Everything was alright today, a stark contrast from the weather yesterday, and what we'll likely get later tonight.
I took a stroll down by some of the more remote areas of Fish Creek. It's still in shambles. They've just start the cleanup, and it will literally be years before I can get any further than the bottom of the hill by my house. It's a shame really. So many places I knew as a child. Gone.
Expect more pictures real soon.
At Last
The weather fell apart today. Tornado watches to the south and east of home today, and the storms made sure we knew who to fear. It felt alright, watching the sky turn into a maelstrom. It was just the fireworks I needed to celebrate my two days off, starting tommorrow. Right now, I'm just listening to the rain fall. Soothing, to say the least. I was going to rant about work again, but it's not worth the words writing it. Today was actually a fairly good day, sold quite a few cameras, made some people happy, got to go home on time. Can't complain today, really.
I'm hitting the town later tommorrow. My tether's off, and the city is mine for a day. My camera memory cards are empty, the batteries are charged, and my shutter finger is itchy.
Carpe Diem.
I'm hitting the town later tommorrow. My tether's off, and the city is mine for a day. My camera memory cards are empty, the batteries are charged, and my shutter finger is itchy.
Carpe Diem.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Metal burrs under the eyelids
I'm annoyed. Just thought I would share that. I woke up, and wasn't in the greatest of moods, and going to work just seemed to bring out the worst of my already bad start. They put my camera table back up, which unto itself is a great thing. I love working the table and telling people about cameras... when they come to learn. I can't tolerate people who come out shopping ad ignoramus and don't even know what they're looking for. I'm not such a callous salesman that I would tell people what they want. They have to decide that for themselves, and coming prepared makes my job much easier.
Anyway, back to task here. My table is out. I promised my manager that I would try my hardest to keep an eye on the cameras (as everyone can't read, and the cameras have a habit of walking away with potential shoppers). Everything was good, and I stopped three would-be camera jackers, when disaster struck. Amidst my third break for the day, one of the cameras was spirited away. I didn't notice until later in the day, partly due to the fact that one of my co-workers was being a complete ass and periodically demolished my table while I was trying to audit the remaining stock.
Nothing like watching grown people act like retarded children again.
Rant over, I need something big to fire, and something that shatters nicely to hit.
Anyway, back to task here. My table is out. I promised my manager that I would try my hardest to keep an eye on the cameras (as everyone can't read, and the cameras have a habit of walking away with potential shoppers). Everything was good, and I stopped three would-be camera jackers, when disaster struck. Amidst my third break for the day, one of the cameras was spirited away. I didn't notice until later in the day, partly due to the fact that one of my co-workers was being a complete ass and periodically demolished my table while I was trying to audit the remaining stock.
Nothing like watching grown people act like retarded children again.
Rant over, I need something big to fire, and something that shatters nicely to hit.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Auditory Abuse
Work was hell today. There's no more poetic way to say it. I actually worked a half-hour earlier than I thought, which cut me out of an extra half-hour of sleep. Seconds passed like millennia, I remember today, looking at my watch, and having to shake my head. The seconds seemed like they were going backwards, that I was actually progressing through the day backwards. As is customary on weekends, I was harangued by customers who either couldn't understand what "out of stock" means, or can't quite grasp the concept of how a warehouse works (ie. You come, you buy, you take home. We don't do retail, we don't deliver).
When my time to go finally rolled around, I left a few minutes early. Anything to get home, hit the shower, and just relax. I finally got some samples of Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails. Where most of what I listen to tightropes the fine line between sanity and insanity, NiN and Skinny Puppy take the headfirst plunge into gonzo, way-left-field fucked up. And I like it.
I'll probably be hopping down to the mall sometime this week to pick up the Jakalope CD('s). I know, it's girly, but take dark genetic themes and mingle them with super-hot Katie B, and you've got yourself a deal. S, if you haven't checked your music sources yet, let me know, so I can discern whether I need to get you a copy too.
It's going to be a good autumn for music. Sam Roberts and Matthew Good are both releasing new CD's.
When my time to go finally rolled around, I left a few minutes early. Anything to get home, hit the shower, and just relax. I finally got some samples of Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails. Where most of what I listen to tightropes the fine line between sanity and insanity, NiN and Skinny Puppy take the headfirst plunge into gonzo, way-left-field fucked up. And I like it.
I'll probably be hopping down to the mall sometime this week to pick up the Jakalope CD('s). I know, it's girly, but take dark genetic themes and mingle them with super-hot Katie B, and you've got yourself a deal. S, if you haven't checked your music sources yet, let me know, so I can discern whether I need to get you a copy too.
It's going to be a good autumn for music. Sam Roberts and Matthew Good are both releasing new CD's.
Migraine Crush
Had a terrible headache today, since the weather kept changing from cloudy and rainy to sunny and clear, and back again. My head felt like I was at the bottom of the ocean, with my head in a vice, and some kind of leprechaun dancing a tap-jig across my temples, accentuating every clack with a maniacal "tee-hee, ya dirty bas-tard!"
Got home from work to relax, and got called out again, this time by my friend Jason. So we hit the town, and everything was good. We got to thinking about what a psychic would tell us if we asked about our future. Lottery numbers, walking on beaches, happily ever after. When it got to be my turn, we joked that the other end of the line would be split by a blood-curdling scream, and the line would go dead.
It's funny how you can laugh at jokes, even when you know they're true. The future is, as we know it, a vague cloud of butterfly effects and could-be's. Best not to dwell on that great white expanse, and instead think of the here and now, like how I have to be up in less than six hours to work.
I'm tired. I'm looking forward to Wednesday, when I can sleep until I'm not tired anymore, and everyone can just let me be for a time. I need a little break from the people in this city, and I'm sure all of you out there are getting pretty tired of me. Well, we'll all be okay.
To the pillow, say I to my tired head.
Got home from work to relax, and got called out again, this time by my friend Jason. So we hit the town, and everything was good. We got to thinking about what a psychic would tell us if we asked about our future. Lottery numbers, walking on beaches, happily ever after. When it got to be my turn, we joked that the other end of the line would be split by a blood-curdling scream, and the line would go dead.
It's funny how you can laugh at jokes, even when you know they're true. The future is, as we know it, a vague cloud of butterfly effects and could-be's. Best not to dwell on that great white expanse, and instead think of the here and now, like how I have to be up in less than six hours to work.
I'm tired. I'm looking forward to Wednesday, when I can sleep until I'm not tired anymore, and everyone can just let me be for a time. I need a little break from the people in this city, and I'm sure all of you out there are getting pretty tired of me. Well, we'll all be okay.
To the pillow, say I to my tired head.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
When I was younger...
Sheer Genius
As children, we all played our little games, and even when things were bad, we found little spots of sunshine to warm our toes in. We ran fast, and played in the grass, breathing hard (sometimes coughing up a lifetime's worth of our parent's smoke), and laughing until we couldn't breathe.
Then we got a little older, and realized that our friends could be so much more and so much less to us. When we were on the down, amber liquid courage would pick up our hearts and make us stronger, and green weeds would make our pain dull.
We got older still, and we thought we knew enough that we could tell each other what we thought. We thought we knew enough that we could be right, and that we could make things right. We were wrong.
By the time our bones stopped growing, we sat there, wondering where all the sunshine had gone, replaced by mugs of booze and the acrid clouds of cigarette smoke.
The sunshine was still there, it was the childhood that was gone.
So now, humbled and aging, we walk through the grass, our legs no longer able to run, and our lungs to dry and hard to laugh. But we still warm our toes in the sunlight, as small as the spots have gotten. We sit, and we talk of times long ago, when we used to run through the grass, and laugh.
And then, with children of our own, we leave the green fields and the past behind. Breathing hard, we push into the future.
As children, we all played our little games, and even when things were bad, we found little spots of sunshine to warm our toes in. We ran fast, and played in the grass, breathing hard (sometimes coughing up a lifetime's worth of our parent's smoke), and laughing until we couldn't breathe.
Then we got a little older, and realized that our friends could be so much more and so much less to us. When we were on the down, amber liquid courage would pick up our hearts and make us stronger, and green weeds would make our pain dull.
We got older still, and we thought we knew enough that we could tell each other what we thought. We thought we knew enough that we could be right, and that we could make things right. We were wrong.
By the time our bones stopped growing, we sat there, wondering where all the sunshine had gone, replaced by mugs of booze and the acrid clouds of cigarette smoke.
The sunshine was still there, it was the childhood that was gone.
So now, humbled and aging, we walk through the grass, our legs no longer able to run, and our lungs to dry and hard to laugh. But we still warm our toes in the sunlight, as small as the spots have gotten. We sit, and we talk of times long ago, when we used to run through the grass, and laugh.
And then, with children of our own, we leave the green fields and the past behind. Breathing hard, we push into the future.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
No way but the Highway
I got back from a two-day stint out at Strathmore today. My buddy J is summer reading co-ordinator out at the Strathmore municipal library, so I thought I would lend him a hand in the launch of this year's program. I did signs, banners, photos, etc. Today was weird. He had me in there watching over the kids as they made crafts, and did the other strange things that under-10's do, such as picking scabs, quoting movies, and promptly and inexplicably soiling themselves. I don't know, but back in my day, you knew by at most age 5, how your innards worked and when and where to obey the call of nature. If you didn't, the parental units were perfectly liable to beat it into you until you got it right.
So anyway, lots of driving involved today, which brings me to the gist of this post. Driving on highways at 140 km/h on a hot and sunny day with the windows down and the sunroof open is truly a gift from God. Promptly running into an intense hailstorm en route to home, however, is not. I like having an electric sunroof, but there are times when it just doesn't close fast enough. Also, somebody needs to invent steering-wheel coolers. I burnt my hands today coming home, as my car had been sitting in a library parking lot for the better part of 10 hours under the blistering sun, and my air conditioning, as good as it is, doesn't do much for hot steering, or burnt skin.
Tommorrow marks the end of my two-day break, and my return to paying work at the Warehouse. I don't know whether to be relieved or exhausted.
So anyway, lots of driving involved today, which brings me to the gist of this post. Driving on highways at 140 km/h on a hot and sunny day with the windows down and the sunroof open is truly a gift from God. Promptly running into an intense hailstorm en route to home, however, is not. I like having an electric sunroof, but there are times when it just doesn't close fast enough. Also, somebody needs to invent steering-wheel coolers. I burnt my hands today coming home, as my car had been sitting in a library parking lot for the better part of 10 hours under the blistering sun, and my air conditioning, as good as it is, doesn't do much for hot steering, or burnt skin.
Tommorrow marks the end of my two-day break, and my return to paying work at the Warehouse. I don't know whether to be relieved or exhausted.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Sugar & Exhaustion
Nerds. Now sexier, tangier, and sweeter then ever. Get yours at any candy store, computer store, or internet emporium. For only meager pocket change, you could take some home with you tonight. Makes for great eats and decoration.
Holy fuck I'm tired. I'm probably going to look at this post in the morning and wonder why in the flying fuck I put such drivelling filth up. And then I'm going to laugh and eat some more candy. Sweet teeth are merely a stepping stone to no teeth.
Also as a note, I put some feet at the bottom of the page (ie, a footer with a message).
Friday, July 08, 2005
A Hunch
I've been trying to hold off on discussing the London bombing, until the initial shock of the incident had passed, and a cooler logic could prevail. I've been pouring over the media accounts of the incident, and this so far is what has come up.
The London Bombings involved:
Now, compare this to the Madrid Bombings, something also pinned to an al Qaeda cell.
The Madrid Bombings involved:
Maybe something else is going on behind the scenes here, and the insidious danger is being covered by the obvious and convenient one.
What I would give to get the other side of this story.
edit: My friend Ravuya, has informed me that timed explosives are anachronistic, and nobody uses timed devices any more (proved to be too unreliable, etc). It's his speculation that the attacks might have been carried out by a cell which was formerly part of the al Qaeda body, but was severed from the main body by anti-terror measures, and became disgruntled with (I'm assuming) the lack of progress on the Iraq front against the Coalition.
Sound reasoning from Rav. Let's see where this rabbit hole goes.
The London Bombings involved:
- timed explosives
- explosive devises under 10lbs.
- was claimed by the Secret Organization of al Qaeda's Jihad in Europe
Now, compare this to the Madrid Bombings, something also pinned to an al Qaeda cell.
The Madrid Bombings involved:
- remote explosives, set off with cell-phones
- indeterminate amounts of explosives
- was never claimed by a serious cell within al Qaeda
Maybe something else is going on behind the scenes here, and the insidious danger is being covered by the obvious and convenient one.
What I would give to get the other side of this story.
edit: My friend Ravuya, has informed me that timed explosives are anachronistic, and nobody uses timed devices any more (proved to be too unreliable, etc). It's his speculation that the attacks might have been carried out by a cell which was formerly part of the al Qaeda body, but was severed from the main body by anti-terror measures, and became disgruntled with (I'm assuming) the lack of progress on the Iraq front against the Coalition.
Sound reasoning from Rav. Let's see where this rabbit hole goes.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Storms Follow
I was in Strathmore today, and during a thunderstorm, I saw this. Any tornado enthusiasts will immediately know what this is. This is the second time I've journeyed out to Strathmore, and brought turbulent weather with me. Seeing it this close was like seeing Terror himself, walking towards you. It was a minor funnel-cloud, but respect is due for even the meekest of things, since even the tiniest squall could spell death for the unwary.
I realized that I'm too young to worry about emotional trivia. While everyone else is out partying and fooling around, I was witness to this. Something that would pass everyone over, and, given the right conditions, kill them, was there, hovering less than a kilometre in front of me.
On top of that, it gave me a new idea for a character to write about. A person who lives in such turmoil and upset that the world around him changes to reflect his outlook. When he is upset, black storms form, and the sky turns dark. This is how I felt today, minus the upset part.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Nights are Rough
I've got to find something better to do. I feel fine during the day, when I've got stuff to do, and people to talk to, but nights are torture.
Healing is slow for me, made worse by the fact that loved ones think that the best way to speed emotional healing is by heaping scorn and abuse upon my already stinging ego. Like it's somehow my fault that I'm upset by things that are obviously disturbing. Or were disturbing, before things got so fucked up.
I don't know. I spent a long time in comfort, knowing that whatever came along, there would be someone there for me. A cushion to fall back on, and someone who needed me as a cushion when they fell too. It will be a long while before I'm comfortable with not only being single, but being alone again. Yeah, I know, Emo this and Emo that, I'll probably get flak just for even discussing this on my blog, but I feel like a slug in saltwater. Slow torture, and fear of the future.
I feel like I've been born in the wrong time, and there is seriously, genuinely, no place for me here. Not only no place, but there is a very good chance that there is no "one" out there for me either, something I am direly afraid of. It's funny, I'm not afraid of the tangible things that leave most other people quivering, but just the thought of living out a semi-nomadic life with no satisfaction, and no love, leaves me sick at night.
Especially while others prey on misguided beliefs and foolish hearts.
When first meeting me, people are often happy, content, warm. They grow older, but all it takes is one change, one addiction, and I am wiped away. Forgotten, or replaced. Friends aren't forever, and love can't withstand the desire for something new.
Healing is slow for me, made worse by the fact that loved ones think that the best way to speed emotional healing is by heaping scorn and abuse upon my already stinging ego. Like it's somehow my fault that I'm upset by things that are obviously disturbing. Or were disturbing, before things got so fucked up.
I don't know. I spent a long time in comfort, knowing that whatever came along, there would be someone there for me. A cushion to fall back on, and someone who needed me as a cushion when they fell too. It will be a long while before I'm comfortable with not only being single, but being alone again. Yeah, I know, Emo this and Emo that, I'll probably get flak just for even discussing this on my blog, but I feel like a slug in saltwater. Slow torture, and fear of the future.
I feel like I've been born in the wrong time, and there is seriously, genuinely, no place for me here. Not only no place, but there is a very good chance that there is no "one" out there for me either, something I am direly afraid of. It's funny, I'm not afraid of the tangible things that leave most other people quivering, but just the thought of living out a semi-nomadic life with no satisfaction, and no love, leaves me sick at night.
Especially while others prey on misguided beliefs and foolish hearts.
When first meeting me, people are often happy, content, warm. They grow older, but all it takes is one change, one addiction, and I am wiped away. Forgotten, or replaced. Friends aren't forever, and love can't withstand the desire for something new.
It's not much
I don't have a lot of musical skill anymore, but that's something I plan to change, through hard work and a little investment.
Behold:
The Mighty Raptor
It's a beginner electric, but its a good one, and I'm hoping to pick up some of the basics. That, and I'm going to set fire to you purists out there who think that only those who are super-elite should be allowed to take up instrument and make music with it. Talent is required to make a living off of music, but not to enjoy the making of it.
I'll learn, just like I always do. Just something to pass the time, along with sketching, writing, photography, and sleeping.
Behold:
The Mighty Raptor
It's a beginner electric, but its a good one, and I'm hoping to pick up some of the basics. That, and I'm going to set fire to you purists out there who think that only those who are super-elite should be allowed to take up instrument and make music with it. Talent is required to make a living off of music, but not to enjoy the making of it.
I'll learn, just like I always do. Just something to pass the time, along with sketching, writing, photography, and sleeping.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Wake me up when I fall asleep
I've had a recurring dream for three nights in a row, all of them lucid (meaning that I knew that I was dreaming). Two out of the three of them played out exactly the same, but last night, I broke the pattern, and I've been feeling kind of sick about it all day. I'll go through the dream, as I remember it, but be warned, I never dream short.
I wake up in the early morning (shortly after falling asleep) in a place that looks similar to home, but no matter what I do, I can't find home. The air is cool, and there are no clouds in the sky. The sun isn't visible yet, but the sky is still bright and blue, and everything is well lit. Very similar to another dream I have involving a Suburbian Hell of sorts.
I travel. Since I'm aware that I'm dreaming, time and distance are easily altered, and I can pass through solid objects at a whim. There is nobody in this city, and every house I pass through has been ransacked and emptied.
Pretty soon, I can hear gunfire. I approach (and here is a change of scenery) a brick wall with a family pinned up against it, and a firing line of soldiers poised to execute them. I arrive just in time to see the soldiers open fire, but since I am aware that this is a dream, I can control how the bullets move. In this case, they don't.
There is a bit of a lapse in my memory at this point, the next point in my memory is quite different.
I'm facing off against a horde of soldiers/creatures, I'm trying to protect the last of the survivors. I'm still aware that I'm dreaming, so it's easy. My ability, coupled with my feeling of duty to protect, make me a formidable foe. What I wasn't expecting was to be shot in the back by the very people I was trying to protect. After death, it was made apparent to me that they blamed me for their hardship, but instead of confronting me, they said nothing, and used me to further their chances of escaping death.
After this revelation, where I felt buried under the earth itself, I was visited by a visage of beauty itself. I only had one thing to say, with a tight knot in my stomach.
"Will everything be okay?"
She shook her head. And I was sent back out.
For three nights, I've had this exact same dream. Only last night, did I break the pattern. When I found myself as the last barrier between harm and refugee, I stopped. I stopped, and I stepped back. I was expecting them to tear into each other, but they all stopped and looked at me. The same beautiful woman appeared, and I asked her, with slightly more confidence in my voice.
"Will everything be okay... Now?"
Again I was surprised. She reached into my chest and gripped my heart (read as: holy fuckmonkeys did that hurt). I'm still aware that I'm dreaming at this point, so I take control. The world is wiped clean before me, everyone disappears, and suddenly I'm in a large cathedral with sunlight pouring through a stained glass window. The woman is still wringing my heart, but she's coughing like she's drowning on something. I then realize that I'm glowing... or rather burning. It hurt to look at myself, and it felt like I was on fire. At which point I woke up.
There was some other emotional ramifications of this dream, and some familiar faces, but I won't go into that. When I woke up, my chest hurt, and both my arms had fallen asleep. Ouch.
Edit:
It's now the day after, and it's 1:00 in the morning. It's 28 degrees in here. I'm bored, lonely, and tired. But I can't sleep. New nightmares, old dreams.
I wake up in the early morning (shortly after falling asleep) in a place that looks similar to home, but no matter what I do, I can't find home. The air is cool, and there are no clouds in the sky. The sun isn't visible yet, but the sky is still bright and blue, and everything is well lit. Very similar to another dream I have involving a Suburbian Hell of sorts.
I travel. Since I'm aware that I'm dreaming, time and distance are easily altered, and I can pass through solid objects at a whim. There is nobody in this city, and every house I pass through has been ransacked and emptied.
Pretty soon, I can hear gunfire. I approach (and here is a change of scenery) a brick wall with a family pinned up against it, and a firing line of soldiers poised to execute them. I arrive just in time to see the soldiers open fire, but since I am aware that this is a dream, I can control how the bullets move. In this case, they don't.
There is a bit of a lapse in my memory at this point, the next point in my memory is quite different.
I'm facing off against a horde of soldiers/creatures, I'm trying to protect the last of the survivors. I'm still aware that I'm dreaming, so it's easy. My ability, coupled with my feeling of duty to protect, make me a formidable foe. What I wasn't expecting was to be shot in the back by the very people I was trying to protect. After death, it was made apparent to me that they blamed me for their hardship, but instead of confronting me, they said nothing, and used me to further their chances of escaping death.
After this revelation, where I felt buried under the earth itself, I was visited by a visage of beauty itself. I only had one thing to say, with a tight knot in my stomach.
"Will everything be okay?"
She shook her head. And I was sent back out.
For three nights, I've had this exact same dream. Only last night, did I break the pattern. When I found myself as the last barrier between harm and refugee, I stopped. I stopped, and I stepped back. I was expecting them to tear into each other, but they all stopped and looked at me. The same beautiful woman appeared, and I asked her, with slightly more confidence in my voice.
"Will everything be okay... Now?"
Again I was surprised. She reached into my chest and gripped my heart (read as: holy fuckmonkeys did that hurt). I'm still aware that I'm dreaming at this point, so I take control. The world is wiped clean before me, everyone disappears, and suddenly I'm in a large cathedral with sunlight pouring through a stained glass window. The woman is still wringing my heart, but she's coughing like she's drowning on something. I then realize that I'm glowing... or rather burning. It hurt to look at myself, and it felt like I was on fire. At which point I woke up.
There was some other emotional ramifications of this dream, and some familiar faces, but I won't go into that. When I woke up, my chest hurt, and both my arms had fallen asleep. Ouch.
Edit:
It's now the day after, and it's 1:00 in the morning. It's 28 degrees in here. I'm bored, lonely, and tired. But I can't sleep. New nightmares, old dreams.
Monday, July 04, 2005
The Aftermath of Change
I actually got down to Fish Creek tonight. I don't recognize the place any more. The banks of the river are now about ten metres further inland, the bridge landfalls are now eroded piles of gravel, and there are foreign trees washed up everywhere. It's almost like the rough changes we all go through. You don't recognize who or what it is that comes out the other side.
I still know that this is Fish Creek though. I've been talking to some old friends of mine, and I can't even connect them to who they were a few years ago. Somebody's killed people I know, filchered their skin, and have now set upon me imposters.
We all change. But don't forget where you're coming from, or else you'll never know where it is that you're going.
It kinda feels like...
My head feels like it's been sandwiched into a vice, and then beaten repeatedly with a sledge hammer. There's been a nasty bug going around, and I'm curious if this is it's opening symptom. Two Motrin ought to hold the pain at bay for most of the day, but it seems that this week is going to die about as quietly as the last one.
At least my buddy J got to come out from Strathmore last night. He brought his girlfriend, and met Anthony, who also has his girlfriend. My place? I've been promoted from third wheel to fifth wheel. There's nothing really wrong with that, as I've been using my time alone to think and find a little peace.
It's still pretty early, and I have to get ready for work. Cameras to sell and people to help. Weather is supposed to be really nice this evening, so maybe I'll go down to the driftwood and check out the broken bridges.
At least my buddy J got to come out from Strathmore last night. He brought his girlfriend, and met Anthony, who also has his girlfriend. My place? I've been promoted from third wheel to fifth wheel. There's nothing really wrong with that, as I've been using my time alone to think and find a little peace.
It's still pretty early, and I have to get ready for work. Cameras to sell and people to help. Weather is supposed to be really nice this evening, so maybe I'll go down to the driftwood and check out the broken bridges.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Almost Smile
There are times in the most turbid and heartbreaking times, when I just smile. It's a sickness more than it's a relief. I think very highly of this picture now, it suits me. It shows me that just a picture of sunshine and blue skies is boring, and a picture of dark clouds is just ominous and monotonous. When you put the two together, ying to yang, suddenly it's art.
When you live your life always seeing the clouds, people just get turned off. When you live your life only seeking and seeing the sunshine, you become boring and predictable. There is a balance to be had there, and only someone who knows themselves as well as anyone else can be there. There is nothing wrong with seeking the blue skies, nor is there anything wrong with finding the clouds. It's when one consumes the other that people fall out of favour.
See, I'm not as cynical as even I thought.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Wake up, damnit man!
So I'm home from work, listening to Bran van 3000. Thinking and remembering.
Actually, no, I'm just thinking. I don't want to remember. Looking back at all the things that I thought were good, there's little markers that I just ignored back then, that really grate my skin now. Little comments, looks, words. I wish I could look back fondly. But how do I think back now, without being bitter? My stomach won't sit still, I've been having trouble eating.
Am I overreacting?
If this was your nightmare come true, you wouldn't think so.
You would probably wake up, in the corner of the room, half-torn sheets wrapped around you in a cocoon, tear stains down your cheeks, with red-shot eyes and a hoarse voice. You would be afraid, hurt, and wanting.
But at least you could wake up and know everything will be okay.
Is there someone out there who can tell me that everything's going to be okay? That this was just a rough spot, and everyone's not like this?
Edit:
Out of boredom, and perhaps a desire to break some more Spammers, I'll be putting up my MSN contact on profile.
Actually, no, I'm just thinking. I don't want to remember. Looking back at all the things that I thought were good, there's little markers that I just ignored back then, that really grate my skin now. Little comments, looks, words. I wish I could look back fondly. But how do I think back now, without being bitter? My stomach won't sit still, I've been having trouble eating.
Am I overreacting?
If this was your nightmare come true, you wouldn't think so.
You would probably wake up, in the corner of the room, half-torn sheets wrapped around you in a cocoon, tear stains down your cheeks, with red-shot eyes and a hoarse voice. You would be afraid, hurt, and wanting.
But at least you could wake up and know everything will be okay.
Is there someone out there who can tell me that everything's going to be okay? That this was just a rough spot, and everyone's not like this?
Edit:
Out of boredom, and perhaps a desire to break some more Spammers, I'll be putting up my MSN contact on profile.
Raine: Writer, Photographer, and now Fool
Please, give me some time to think. My world has fallen apart.
I've been holding on to smoke, and looking through mirrors, and I've been calling it reality. I'm sorry. I wondered why nothing made sense, and it was because I had been following a belief that had no founding in reality. The dark clouds and storms were nothing. My bright little fantasy was broken like a child's toy, and I should have seen it.
I've been a fool. I saw the truth, but for once, I put my cynicism aside and hoped against the truth that I was wrong, that there was hope. I felt used, but that was my fault. I didn't have the whole story, when I should have been more aware.
I should have been destroyed by this change, but I'm only hurt.
There is still some hope. There has to be.
But it's not here that I have to find it.
I'm going back to my roots, back to where I learned to be me. I think there was a lesson there that I failed to learn before I started dating. Now that I am single and able to see now, I should go back and see what it was that I missed. That I refused to learn before I started.
I'm never going to be the same after this.
No fear though. Fear is the mind killer, and I need my mind, if nothing else.
Friday, July 01, 2005
C-Day, not a day for Blues
Today is Canada Day. Yet another excuse for us Canucks to get piss drunk (on Molson Canadian, no less), and wave our little flags. I'm not planning on drinking anything today. In fact, I'm probably not going to do much of anything today. Might sing an anthem or two, but otherwise, nothing crazy. I've got other... more aggravated things on my mind today. I've forced myself to take a look at what I've become to please other people, namely one other person, and I've come to the conclusion that it has to be reigned in.
There's stormclouds on the build, in every sense of the term. There will be thunder and lightning, but no fireworks.
There's stormclouds on the build, in every sense of the term. There will be thunder and lightning, but no fireworks.
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