does it make a difference?

sadam hussein is dead.
did the state of iraq
suddenly ascend into
eternal peace and tranquility
at the moment of his death?
does it make a difference?
does it make some of you
happy?
happy ...
that once again. humans remind us
what predators they really are.

what a load of bull
if ever i saw one!

life is wierd and surreal

... just like this

a 'photo choppy' done by me (earlier this year)

in case anyone wonders -
i am starting to feel
more settled now
and less and less on the verge of darkness.
i now contemplate ...
can peace reside in
maintaining any distant connection
at all ...?
or does it only reside
in cutting all ties?

*sigh*
yet another loss
of sorts

beautiful words i DID NOT write

A kiss cannot travel inter-galactic,
It spans only the touch-duration.
Eternal-youth is merely a myth.
We all are dying - green and young.
You need music to celebrate your passions,
You need not sing yourself.
Only time is immortal,
Every other thing must go back to the elements.
Nocturnal proximity kindles desire, and,
Breeds expectations more than we can handle.
Remember, pleasure can only cajole you into dullness of sleep.
The pains keep you awake,
Sensitive to acuteness of perceptions.

Place your right index finger gently o'er your left carotid,
(because left is closer to cardium),
perhaps on your left brachial,
or the left radial - if you wish so,
and then let the tactile modality listen to the rhythm.

Is there an alien gallop,
a certain hyperkineticity,
a few dropped beats or,
for that matter, a few ectopics?
Is there anything that is at variance
with the sino-atrially directed synchrony?

If you find one don't call for an electrocardiogram,
don't reach out for the echo either.
Try to decode the encrypted malady -
perhaps it is the reawakening
of a hibernating passion for words -
words sans wisdom, sans values, perhaps.

But those worthlessly magnificent symbols
can change you -
from the deepest core of sadness
you rise
to relish the unbearable lightness of being.
You discover light
in the darkest blackhole
and life changeth.

**these words written by anupam bhattacharjee,
and brought to you by me**

image originally uploaded by forty-onecrush

RIP, James Brown

James Brown died today, at age 73.
he died just a day after
being hospitalized for pneumonia.
who would have thought?
somehow ...
i just don't imagine
James Brown being frail enough
to die ...
somehow ...
his voice, his attitude
made him seem larger than life.

another great soul plucked from our grasp.

**sigh**


photo originally uploaded by rist

random thoughts from nowhere

originally uploaded by violin soldier

i think the picture says it all. while our politicians and the most intolerant of our human groups decide to kill anything or anyone that represents a contrasting view, hopefully some of us out here, in the world at large, can realize that love, not hatred, holds the key.

originally uploaded by pink sherbet

now, that looks like a puurrrrfect dress to wear, for climbing, don't it?

originally uploaded by pink sherbet

this picture summarizes, quite nicely, the year i've had. pink monsters, radical changes, and many colourful challenges pouring down on me, deluging me at times.


in other thoughts ...

i hate santa - i really think he and satan are close associates and i can hardly wait for this christmas bullshit to end so i can go on with my life, which basically this bullshit holiday has left in suspended animation.

its dark in here ... no light comes in here and no life lives here. its a place where a living soul waits for death. i hate it here for that reason. since when does a terminal illness give one the right to just withdraw from life ... stop living? and since when does it entitle one to be pampered and served - to a most ridiculous degree - by others, at the expense of said others? i could care less of you're life expectancy, i still expect you to treat me and those around me with respect and grace.

i'm sick. my spirit just feels so worn and lonely that its making my body feel sick. its been several days since i could actually digest any food i ingest. its dark and lonely here. i must get out. i miss my husband. and this just makes me sick inside, too.

i'm thinking of someone ... a doctor, who lives in calcutta. who translates bengali poetry in his spare time. who can think with his cerebral cortex, and not his genitalia. who understands the soul suffering involved in being a healthcare professional.

i feel diminished. and tired to my very core. my brother's a self-centred egocentric prick who's also a taker ... and i continue to serve him. i don't know why. i have to get out. of here.

random thoughts from nowhere

originally uploaded by violin soldier

i think the picture says it all. while our politicians and the most intolerant of our human groups decide to kill anything or anyone that represents a contrasting view, hopefully some of us out here, in the world at large, can realize that love, not hatred, holds the key.

originally uploaded by pink sherbet

now, that looks like a puurrrrfect dress to wear, for climbing, don't it?

originally uploaded by pink sherbet

this picture summarizes, quite nicely, the year i've had. pink monsters, radical changes, and many colourful challenges pouring down on me, deluging me at times.


in other thoughts ...

i hate santa - i really think he and satan are close associates and i can hardly wait for this christmas bullshit to end so i can go on with my life, which basically this bullshit holiday has left in suspended animation.

its dark in here ... no light comes in here and no life lives here. its a place where a living soul waits for death. i hate it here for that reason. since when does a terminal illness give one the right to just withdraw from life ... stop living? and since when does it entitle one to be pampered and served - to a most ridiculous degree - by others, at the expense of said others? i could care less of you're life expectancy, i still expect you to treat me and those around me with respect and grace.

i'm sick. my spirit just feels so worn and lonely that its making my body feel sick. its been several days since i could actually digest any food i ingest. its dark and lonely here. i must get out. i miss my husband. and this just makes me sick inside, too.

i'm thinking of someone ... a doctor, who lives in calcutta. who translates bengali poetry in his spare time. who can think with his cerebral cortex, and not his genitalia. who understands the soul suffering involved in being a healthcare professional.

i feel diminished. and tired to my very core. my brother's a self-centred egocentric prick who's also a taker ... and i continue to serve him. i don't know why. i have to get out. of here.

santa and satan

did it occur to anyone else?

SANTA = SATAN with the "N" misplaced

how quaint, how disturbing, how amusing.

just a little christmas thought from me to you.

spellbound

and heartbroken. i sat in victory park, on one of those cold metal benches. umbrella in hand. i sat there. while torrents of rain poured from the sky. raindrops, so big, their impact on my skin made a sound. it felt cold, i felt minute ice pellets in the rain. and everyone that passed me by - scurrying between the raindrops - they all looked at me like i had a horn growing out of my head, what? you've never seen a lonely girl, sitting in a torrential downpour, smoking a reefer in the early afternoon? i'm spellbound by this impending emptiness that lurks around the corner of next week. i'm spellbound .... by the threatening loneliness that looms across the skies of my soul. spellbound by .... the chaos of broken glass that i feel, digging in ... embedding themselves into my consciousness.

my nose hurts. it hurts inside. i'm suddenly regretting having burned out the innards of my nasal passages on a several-month-long cocaine binge last year. perhaps right about now all that tissue that leeched from my nose in bloody droplets and shreds .... perhaps it would somehow come in handy right about now, when my nose burns, burns, burns like it lives in a ring of fire? perhaps. sad thing is ... if several rales suddenly materialized in front of me ... i would not hesitate to snort them. after all that ... i still would.

spellbound ... by life ... the universe ... humanity ... my self.

that's all.

i heard you

[i have watched many souls leave their bodies. and i have watched many more souls suffer in anguish ... as the bodily shell crumbles away, yet leaving the silver cord that anchors a soul to its shell untouched. its most humbling and awe-filled, to experience so intimately, the suffering of a dying body and soul ... helpless to stop it. and more humbling, yet, to witness the grief spewing from the living ... the left behind. i suppose that's where this piece comes from. death has beauty ... in its own way.]

my darling. heard you, weeping so mournfully. heard that deep gutteral sound come from somewhere deep inside your viscera. i - unable to comfort you. under the weight of heavy sedation and the weakness of my sickly ravaged body, i heard you. heard you as i rested in my lonely, but soothing, suspended animation. white, darling, i found myself in a sea of vast whiteness. nothing living. nothing dead. suspended, in space and time.

that’s how it felt, darling. and then, i heard your deep, mournful cries. they rang out in my heart. the same sorrow-filled cries one hears from a gull seeking out its lost mate. and, then, darling, i felt it. we - lost from each other. in your cries i heard the arrogance, haughtiness, and anger fall away. i heard such longing, such despair, such love. how, darling, did i never feel these things before? oh, darling. what touched me most of all is the feeling of your tears trickling along my hand, which you held next to your gentle face. tears, yours, shed for me.

darling, i came back. came back because it seemed too soon to leave you. to leave life. to leave earth. i want to savour each moment, smell each flower, feel each tiny detail of existence. i want fire, passion, breath, soul, depth. i want to feel power melt into the webs of my fingers. that time spent in suspended animation, darling, it injected savage desires into my heart, into my flaming red petals. and, so darling, i will go play in my garden, now. in my garden of savage petals. there, you can find me.

to know you

[its possible to love another spirit ... another heart ... another mind ... without carnal ever entering the fold. it takes a certain sort of soul to have the capacity to love like this. enchanting ... to say the least. and so ... here is an old piece of mine that i have dusted off, and edited just a teensy bit ... its a little something about meeting such a spirit.]

i want to know you. to understand you. and the words that tumble from your lips in a sweet, silent melody heard only by my heart and soul. i will drink them in, slowly, and they will fall into my soul like drops fall from honeycombs. and i will treasure the moments as they trickle past me. and i will treasure you.

my axons and dendrites will glow in your essence. will you bathe in the streaming light of my gentle adoration? will you let me touch that swirling, spinning locus at your very core, and stroke it so very tenderly? on their wings, your words carry lucious tendrils of you and i feel a flutter in my chest as they embrace my own.

cold fury - i wear it like a corset. it constricts my very essense - stuffs it all behind a stiff, unforgiving shield. its my face to the world-at-large: my suit of armour. in my cyborgish and mundane existence within the hive-mind that is the world-at-large, i lead. i shoulder live-and-die responsibilities. commit life-altering actions. witness soul crushing pain.

i've felt crushed. suffocating ... beneath the weight of my own cold fury. suffocating - the same way a hard, thick scab suffocates tender, growing tissue lying underneath. will you look at me, eye-to-eye ... heart-to-heart ... so that i may see the blossoming dawn in your gaze? so that this mask i wear will fall away from me, shattered? will your heart lavish the affection and the adoration i crave from safe and guiding presence? i want to trust that your hands and heart move with a gentle grace and deftness that leave my tender, pulsing and raw essense without track marks or debridement.

i am unsure. afraid of the dark. of monsters under the bed. and of spirits that haunt me while i sleep. i seek guidance. reassurance. validation, even. and a strong, safe and gentle hand to stroke my soft and shiny, dark curls. with your gentle guidance and sublime adoration will you release the spring long shut-up inside me? will you drink the sweet elixir from my fount, as you release my heart from its bondage?

i want to know you. to understand you. and the words that tumble from your heart in a sweet, silent lyric heard only by my own. i will drink them in, slowly, and they will fall into my soul like drops fall from honeycombs. we will revel in our connection, as our spirits embrace and grow in light and love. and my fear? it will crumble, falling away from me the way sand slips through fingers. and then ... once your essence has emblazened itself upon my own ... and then, will i know you?

i seek different energy

a gentle and enchanting soul left the following comment:

"A soul withers in the intensity of despise! The fornicator tramples love, rapes faith as ever. But Faustus , do not sell your spirit to Mephistopheles. Do not let hate take over your reins. Go and pluck yourself a blossoming dawn from the deepest stalk of darkness."

in response to the following poem, of mine:

your grace crumbled
into grotesque flakes
as your fingertips slashed
my tender silken face
with rage and vengence,
that drench my frail child-spirit

steeped in self-loathing,
you infected me -
impaled
my gauzy soul
on your poisoned barbs
of hatred and lusty greed

once, i loved you -
worshipped you, adored you
and darkness
eviscerated my heart
as i watched this adoration stream past
your inert, stoney heart

my trembling eyes splinter
into a thousand tears
when i look upon your face -
my reflection - in the looking glass
you, who deserted my child-trust -
remain, achingly, ever present

this dark riverbed of adoration
that flowed in my viscera for you
has dried up; my heart --
which once glistened sublimely inside yours,
now lies in eternal anguish:
dessicated, petrified, searingly denuded

your grace crumbles
into grotesque flakes
of grief, rage and greed,
soaked in the brine of remorse
you beg, like i did, for a morsel of mercy
but -- i will STARVE you of forgiveness

on hiatus

until further notice.

starman (originall written 4.11-06 & not posted)

do you ever wonder why we bother looking for extraterrestrial life? i mean - why bother sending out signals to tell them we're here? what do we think we'd do if we ever found an extraterrestrial, on earth? i'm inclined to think we might very well kill it. kill the very thing that intrigues us so. because ... well .. that's we do. destroy that which we do not understand. i wonder ... why do we invite that which we cannot host? like ... perhaps as a planterary society humanity simply has not evolved to the point at which we could accept and co-exist with ALFs.

this does have a religious connection to ... because ... do we think we would recognize the messiah if he came in our life time? what if he did walk the earth - in the form of some one life anwar sadat or yitzak rabin or ghandi or martin luther king or JFK or RFK - and we killed him. because we did not understand him ... his message. what if? do we get another chance? this movie ... star man ... it made me think these things.

i starts out with that message we sent out with voyager ... a message representing all humanity and inviting the intergalactic listener to visit earth. and so ... the aliens visit. the space ship crashes. an energy source disembarks and assumes the form of a dead man ... having found some DNA on a hair clipping that the man's grieving widow had near her. the couple have quite an adventure, dodging police and federal agents and the military (who want to capture and kill the alien), as they try to get the alien to arizona so he can meet his mother ship and return home.

as i watched more and more of the film the biblical theme ... symbolism ... struck me like a brick in the head. powerful. messianic, i found the story quite messianic. a special man, with healing powers and infathomable knowledge of the universe descends from the sky. the rulers of the society in which he lands find out about him and they fear him ... they have a morbid curiousity if him. he means them no harm ... not in a real sense ... however, they wish to kill him. just because they can. what really made me think of the bible ... of mythology? well, the fact that he impregnated her. she told him that docs had told her she could not have babies. similar to the story of mary, mother of jesus, the alien tells the woman that he impregnated her - that she will have a boy baby. that he will have his father's knowledge. that he will serve as a great teacher. the impregnation of a previously barren woman makes me think more of sarah, though.

the movie - its a good one. i will not spoil it for you by telling you of the ending. you must find out for yourself!

a thought to carry me thru life

"Go and pluck yourself a blossoming dawn from the deepest stalk of darkness."

someone wrote these words to me ... an intriguing and genius someone ... splendid and breath-taking, isn't it?

forgiveness = surrender

forgiveness .... its a sort of surrender. mayden wrote a post that inspired me .... strangely, i wrote this comment mere minutes before my own evil and ugly exchange with my brother. and so .... fitting i think, that i share it here, with all of you.

remember that jesus asked g-d to forgive those who put him to death. now that is an example of love that many of us will never completely succeed in emulating. but ... still, we must make the effort, mustn't we? christmas and easter seem pretty meaningless if we don't truly get the point of love ... and also get that love isn't something we do only when it works - feels good - for us. love is also something we do when it doesn't feel good. and that is hardest of all. remember, also, that forgiveness is like surrender. our society's media and messages indicate to us that forgiving is losing ... admitting defeat.

so ... someone wronged us. ok. and it hurts like a bitch. ok. do we dwell on that hurt and anger we feel? or do we pick ourselves up from the hatred and hurt cesspool and make a concerted effort to move on, positively and with grace? i have done a lot of soul searching and have decided with my life and family i will choose option 2. i regret that my choice is too late for my late sister, who died before i could make things right for her. remember, then, also, that the things we say to any one person could be the very last thing we say to them. perhaps if we approached every human interaction like that ...? a

s for the others of my siblings - who have inflicted what i thought at the time as unforgiveable hurts - i can love them from afar. live and let live. if i encounter them at a family function, well the room and the world is big enough for all of us. and really, family function are not all about me and how i feel (uncomfortable, to be honest) but about making our mum happy ... we will get hurt in life. that's inevitable, mayden. how we deal with that hurt is what will make all the difference. and make no bones about it - the surrender of forgiveness may not feel great. but life isn't always about feeling great. its just about feeling. and what we do with that feeling. sorry to be soooo long-winded and preachy.

i'm just sharing with you the wisdom i gained from having been in that place you are, feeling the feelings you're feeling. and just remember jesus entered the world humbly and without an fanfare. and so christmas should be ... no fanfare, no big fancy BS. that's what i wish for us all this christmas. regards dear mayden. thinking of you. love your husband. treasure him. i miss mine dearly. so dearly. realize how lucky you are to have your family there ... together. love the pink reefer ps. any situation we encounter in life can be made so much easier or more difficult simply by our reaction. i have learned this time and time again, the hard way.

read my lips, you morons!

split up iraq

it worked for the former yugoslavia ... didn't it?

and if you held a seance
to contact sir winston churchill
who, incidently formed iraq in the first place,
he would likely tell you the same thing
so ... because i know you're slow on the uptake
i will repeat

SPLIT UP IRAQ!

dear g-d

please give me the strength and the patience to tolerate other humans ... i know, i know, they're your creations. but, dear g-d ... why so slow on the uptake? why can't they speak honestly? without all the flashy, fluffy rhetoric? why can't they follow direction? why can't they listen AND hear? why do they exclude? g-d ... why don't i fit in anywhere? i feel likeable, most of the time. so, why do i have no friends? how do i know who i can trust? who i can believe?

in a world full of bull shit it's so fucking hard, g-d, to smell the roses. really. i try. maybe not hard enuf. i see so much complacency, greed, ignorance, thoughtlessness. and just plain mean-ness. y'know? lack of compassion. g-d .... it makes me incredibly sad. when i think of it all ... i wonder ... how do you deal with the constant disappointments we present to you? your creation ... it lets you down ... falls short of the mark.

g-d ... grant me serenity ... patience and wisdom. remind me that its not a popularity contest. remind me that its not any sort of contest. remind me ... fill my heart with something good. something i can hold onto. something. that doesn't make me feel empty as soon as it touches me.

stoopid headlines

1. bush agenda came 1st for Bolton at U.N - like ... DUH ... anyone with a brainwave could figure that one out!
2. US not winning Iraq war ... double DUH ... oh yeah, thanx bob gates, we hadn't yet figured that one out ... and we definitely needed that clarification!
3. underweight women more likely to miscarry ... you don't say? FUCK do you think we are that stoopid? like, once again this should be obvious!
4. transfats banned in NY ... oh. ok and so, given the huge success rate of prohibition in our society, we all know this will definitely eliminate obesity ... NOT.
5. flying table hurts jackie chan ... like, that's news? anyone standing around an airborne table deserves to get hit ... that's called natural selection. it ensures the IDIOTS don't survive ... and hopefully they haven't reproduced before their idiocy kills them off!

ok. that's it. that's enuf STOOPIDITY for one day.

6 wierd things about myself

1. i currently sleep a mere 10 or 12 feet away from the exposed blessed sacrament. i'm convinced its the reason i sleep like a baby in this bed i have here. before getting here i felt afraid to fall asleep. not here, though. i know its the blessed sacrament. i know it.
2. i feel intimidated by other people alot of the time - their energies overwhelm me. the same way having my head dunked in water overwhelms me. i can feel what people are thinking ... what they feel ... their emotions.
3. unlike the rest of the human race i have no requirement for sexual intimacy. i just don't. i'm convinced that sex is designed to take things from women. not make them feel connected.
4. weed is a necessity for me. i'm not being flip or silly. i'm dead serious. weed, to me, is just as necessary as food. anyone who thinks this is a bad thing is fucking ignorant. i wish people would stop patronizing addicts and just get it, already.
5. i'm confused about religion and the JC thing. the exposure of the blessed sacrament ... the peace it gives me when i sleep ... the peace it fills me with ... it makes me wonder. about g-d. about JC. about the trinity. if you asked me ... i'd honestly say i'm not sure if i believe. but ... somehow ... strangely ... i know. i feel like i just know.
   
6. trees and nature speak to me. in fact, they possess a lot more wisdom than humans. the wisdom of being for ages. the knowing that comes with waiting. that's what i get from nature.

world AIDS day - december 1st

i'm sick and tired of hearing this fucking bullshit about how abstinence can solve the bloody AIDS problem. that's right up there with 'the war on drugs' is the way to combat addiction. AND ITS FUCKING BULLSHIT! too bad that most of the people spewing such nonsense don't know what they're talking about. really. can we get passed ideologizing sex for a moment? can we? can we get passed all the judgementally loaded rhetoric? and see the issue?

the issue is this - a disease that's killing an entire generation of humanity. all around the world. and you think ... oh well, they're marginalized ... no one will notice. and you think ... well, tough shit, they brought it on themselves. and you think ... fucking faggots, serves them right for fornicating. oh ok. that's narrow, ain't it? do yourself a favour. learn about AIDS. do you know anyone afflicted by HIV/AIDS? do you know anyone who's died of AIDS? i keep sensing this insidious implication that it doesn't matter. they're all a bunch of faggots anyhow, right? who cares? besides ... abstinence will solve it all. what about the here and now?

here's a little tidbit for you.

he's got the mind and age of 56 years old. and the body of a 75 year old. ravaged by a disease that has depleted most of his immunity to fight off anything. many of the antretroviral meds have damaged his liver ... sending his bad cholesterol levels sky high. they have also damaged his gut, rendering it unable of processing any solid food without nausea, vomitting and profuse diarrhea.

he lives on kool-aid and protein power sprinkled into a shake made from soy milk and bananas. he's tired ... so tired. and sleeps 12, sometimes 14 hours per 24 hour period. and not in a row. his gums have receded. he's lost his teeth. he's not eligible for another set for a couples more years. will he live that long? good question. he's frail. it scared me - to see someone waste away. he's weak. i worry constantly about falls. he's toast if he falls. he's toast if he gets sick. i'm aware that i am a potential danger to him and must act accordingly. in so many small ways that many of you could not even imagine.

and that is the tip of the iceberg. i have not told you about the incredible pain. the pain that 130 mg of long-acting morphine taken twice daily barely keeps at bay. and the loneliness. who wants a partner dying of AIDS? and the fear of persecution. he's convinced that people will treat him with scorn if he discloses his true diagnosis. he's convinced he's unacceptable to the world at large. save for the GBLT community. even his own mother fears him because of his diagnosis.

now ... think. think. think. can you see how the issue of AIDS goes far beyond a debate about abstinence vs condoms? of course, i'm assuming you've dropped that ridiculous notion that homosexuality as a causal factor of AIDS. not everyone needs to ideologize sex. not everyone sees the bible a written-in-stone instructional booklet. not everyone sees life thru such a filter. please ... please ... please ... take this day - WORLD AIDS DAY - as an opportunity to drop the ideologizing about sex and sexuality. just LEARN about AIDS. and what's it like to live with.

image originally uploaded by casa de woof

1 comments:

Bob Souvorin said...

Hi,
Wow, you write with a great deal of feeling, fervor, and more than a dollop of anger and resentment. Please, that is not meant as a criticism, but as something to be proud of. Our blog world is filled with so much tepid silliness, that it is refreshing to read a passionate call for change.
I write a blog on accessing creativity:
ArtQuest1.blogspot.com
and the reason I bring this up is I maintain lines of communication with a fair number of visual artists and writers. Based upon your latest post, I have one woman I will recommend to you:
Her name is Nancy Bevilaqua
http://holdingbreath-nbevilaqua.blogspot.com/
Thanks for posting.
Bob

30/11/06 20:37

wrestles with angels

fear not.
posts contained within wrestles with angels still exist.
also, a more comprehensive links lists exists there.

some dribble for you

1.what letters do you type most often? do you know? i do. e, a, s, n, l. that's pretty specific. how do i know that, anyhow? well ... those are the keys that have long lost their letter sign - meaning they're blank. i have typed them so much they plain wore off. and pretty soon, the letter m will get added to this list. just some completely irrelvant and totally meaningless trivia for you. to make your head explode.

2. do you think the core of who we are as persons changes throughout our lifetimes? if you took a personality test, do you think it would be different at different points in your life? i wonder. i wonder if the fabric of one's essence can change with the seasons of living. i feel like mine has. or ... perhaps not. perhaps the changes i perceive actually reflect the pieces of myself i have uncovered?

3. i'm hungry these days. but ... have no desire to eat. until my body threatens to quit. and then i have no choice. why is it some of us have this fucked up love-hate relationship between our hypothalamus and our stomachs? one has no idea of the social nature the act of eating until one no longer has someone with which to share meals.

4. i walked by a live power line just dangling from the trolley bus line on my walk home from school monday. a horde of cops appeared to be lurking about the neighbourhood. all just standing there, fucking the dog. i wonder about the folks that supposedly manage the safety of this place, when they have to be asked to do something about a fucking live wire, dangling onto the sidewalk. i cyncally wonder if this had been the ritzy shaugnessy neighbourhood, how differently such a situation might have played out.

5. there's a spider living on the corner of the door frame to my room. she's been there for a few days now. she scared me at first, even though she's just a tiny black thing. still - she's ugly and different looking. and so i perceive that as a threat/fear. instant reaction - i want to get rid of her. then i think - why? just coz looking at her bothers me? and so ... i leave her there. why not respect her for what she does? after all she has a role to play in the food chain.

6. do you know that more than 50 % of information you receive about a person you meet is non-verbal? know what i hate about george bush? i have finally figured it out. its simple, really. and has nothing to do with ideology. its the incongruence between his verbal and non-verbal communication. it casts him in a suspicious light.

7. i hate the phone. it invites misunderstandings.

guest blogger - my stuffed moose

lonely existentialist moose

moose seeks partner with fresh perspective to search for answers to the universal questions in life. (deep breath here) primarily - what is the plural of me? is it meese? meeses? mooses? moosi?
seriously! hell is not knowing the plural of yourself. how can i find love if i can't put an appropriate label on 'we?'
(sigh.) exploring the greath truths ... that's what counts in this life.

despair

why, oh why, does it seem so hard to tell the difference between the despair that's placed before us to tell us to change course and the despair that's an inevitable part of transition?
there's a saying that tells us 'things seem darkest before the dawn.' in fact, its cliche to say so. so ... ? why don't we ever get it?

why do we find it such a challenge to know? to know, the difference.
time and time again, when i face my old friend despair,
i fear i do not know him. after all these years, i still don't know.

other questions i have ...

why do people say such horrid things to each other over the phone?
do we get an emotional hard-on when we hang up in someone's ear?
why do humans inflict suffering upon each other? what's so fucking entertaining about it?

why is each one of us our own worse enemy? why?
what's wrong with having an addiction? really, i'm asking.
i mean, do you still villify a junky, even if s/he is a functioning junky?
why should i give up my addiction just to make society feel better?
society does not give up its addiction to greed and power and stuff to make me feel better.
so ... ? what gives?
it seems to me like some fucking control thing.
what are we, living in a fucking borg cube, or somethin?

stephen harper's a fucking imbecile

and so is anyone who voted for him!

sheesh! will we ever learn?

poodles on speed

i feel like i'm riding a poodle on speed these days. things that define my life seem to change on a friggin dime these past few days. whew! i am really getting too old for this shit. really, i am. well, i sure am glad i DON'T have a daughter. my son, he's a good boy who doesn't cause his dear old mum - me - any worry or stress. i know that daughters are a right pain in the ass. i can say that - i'm one. ha ha. i'm sorta being flip here, so don't go all postal on me and think i'm expressing misogyny. i'm just being my usual sharp-tongued self.

and that takes me nicely into my next point. i really need to work with machines and software, NOT humans. so - yeah, on this, my 15th or so day here, i find myself in school once again - i start monday. OMFG am i serious? yes. yes i am. oh the life of a student. like, as if i haven't experienced it enough! i know i know. i'm certifiable. but ... it works for me.

ok. now seriously. some philosphizing. about people. about humanity. how much seems like too much to expect from others? do we just assume everyone is a disappointment, a selfish, egocentric prick out for him/her self? that seems rather bleak, negative and hostile. that seems like the perspective of someone who fought the battle and lost. doesn't it? and now - the sticky part. what about siblings? do we expect anything from them? i'm inclined to think so. does that make me naive, or old-fashioned? thinking that i should still approach life with some faith in humanity? i hope not.



i'm curious. what does anyone who reads this, think? and ... does it matter? does it change anything - the way we approach and view other humans? i'm inclined to think it has a big impact on how we, as individuals get perceived by others ... by society at large. really.

image originally uploaded by crayzy ray, flickr creative commons

OH YEAH ... I ALMOST FORGOT -
I MADE SOME MINOR CHANGES TO THE BLOG.
YA LIKE IT? (that's really more of a rhetorical question, btw)

addiction - part 2

so i read this bullshit article that talked about some fucking study, published in some medical journal about how this so-called safe injection site is helping junkies and even helping them to quit. ya, well we can make the numbers say whatever we want, right? RIGHT. true, really.

i am just disgusted at the way politicians and other power trippers use the downtrodden and street urchins to fulfill their own egoistic purposes. lets just be honest with ourselves. we don't give a shit about others. we don't wanna help anyone, but ourselves. plain and simple. we all have an agenda. anyone who claims not to is full of shit - either lying or just incredibly naive.

i cannot juxtapose the incredulity of extreme opulence and extreme poverty, side by side in the strangest ways. for instance, a homeless person, with all his belongings in a shopping cart living on the street, and sleeping just beneath a large billboard-type sign that advertises condos in yaletown for $300,000. or another homeless person, curled up and sleeping just beneath a very opulent window display at the hudson's bay - velvet, taffeta, scarlett o'hara-type posh settings. does the existence of the very rich mean that the very poor will also be? i think so. WE HUMANS ARE SO FUCKING SELFISH!

so ... what does this have to do with addiction? i dunno. something. tho i have done a shitty job of connecting the two here in this post. not that anyone reads this anyway. you're all so busy convincing yourselves that you are good people, to take the time to read about the shitty side of life. and by that i mean the truly gritty, really down and out stuff. that i walk by each and every day. that most of us don't care about, as we wrestle our way thru the stores, beating people away from the latest XBOX or whatever stupid thing everyone is convinced they MUST buy! oh ... whatever.

just ... one more thing. before you judge an addict, try to truly understand that person. an addict doesn't wake up one day and say, 'gee, i feel like i wanna be an addict today! lets get started.' its definitely not like that. make an effort to find out what it is like. just to give you an idea ... living with an addiction is like trying to swim with a 50 lb lead weight attached to your foot. and you're not sure how it got there. and you don't have the key to unlatch it from your leg.

my message is i guess, don't judge. understand.

... to be continued ...

a guppy in a bowl of dopamine?

"i'll have one of what she's having, please!!!"

i looks pretty laid back in this pic, don't i? well, lol ... i sure feel anything but that today! i feel sort of uptight ... sort of disappointed that i am not really anything more than a fucking RENT PAYMENT to my so-called brother. yes, my brother is charging me rent! and he fucking monopolizes the TV (my viewing preferences are never sought), the phone, the temperature (he likes it at 25 degrees C - way too hot for me, a polar bear), and even tells me that i can't have my fucking windown open. he never washes his hands, tho always insists i do so ... apparently i am the only one with germs? no ... apparently he is the only one that's a FUCKING ASSHOLE! a bloody fucking selfish and egocentric prick that thinks only of himself! ARE ALL FIRST BORNS THAT WAY??

i really don't give a shit if he's dying. he's crying with his belly fully - 2 TVs, complete with satellite hook-ups, an $870/month 2 BR apt for himself (on his welfare income, no less) and a car ... and he's a 2 pack/day smoker ... and he's crying to me that he needs the fucking money for his car insurance? yeah ... when i'm already living on one meal per day, no internet connection (he has one, never uses it and forbids me to also ... nice, huh?) and virtually no spending money of any kind. HE'S A FUCKING SHIT HEAD. and life pretty much sucks today. but ... yeah yeah ... don't sweat the small stuff, right? i know i'm still luckier that most. too bad for the asshole, he doesn't recognize that, too.

selfish, egocentric people make me want to scream. he has succeeded in reducing me to tears once today over this fucking rent bullying. i know i know he will bully our mother for the money next. PRICK! well, fuck all humans today. if this is how disappointed i feel about humanity ... just imagine how disappointed g-d must feel.

it boggles my mind.

well, i will just think of guppies
swimming in dopamine.
and that will hafta make me laugh.

here's something else ... herbie (remember him?) on acid

cool, huh?

heaven's breath

i sometimes feel it -
heaven's breath,
breathing down on me
miniscule, yet monumental
all at once

a conundrum
of major proportions,
heaven's breath -
sometimes so brilliant
it leaves me wanting for air,
sometimes so despairing
it sucks the life from my blood



can you feel it?
i don't suppose you can ...
its there, pressing
heaven's breath - pressing
all the foolish WORDLY resistance
from my aorta,
from my carotids

heaven's breath oozes
from the sky -
cotton batton dreams
sail on each whisper
of inspiration, of expiration
to this meager, and vulnerable soul.

image: me, taken on the greyhound bus, somewhere between calgary and the okanogan

waiting psyches - no pics

ugh! i hate 'em. all those waiting minds. just ... waiting. with varying leves of emotion. yeah. well, that's what i get for going downtown right in the midst of the santa clause parade and grey cup sunday (when BC is vying for the grey cup!). a sea of people lined the streets. a sea of waiting people. with waiting children. for my poor, battered and oh so tired psyche, it felt all too much to bear. i just wanted to cry. could i just go somewhere ... ? anywhere .... ? where i didn't hafta feel the overwhelming presence of OTHERS!??

i need to schedule a visit to the beach sometime soon. i have yet to make my way to the west side of downtown van, where the beaches wait for me. i need to get there. i also need to get a friggin job. i hate this constant starting over i seem to do every few years. why why why do i possess such a restless spirit? it sometimes feels as though all this material bullshit we need to survive in the world ... it feels as though all that shit shackles my spirit. y'know? it feels that way. stuff, money and stuff acquisition make this world so unpleasant and hostile. GREED. it just sucks. for everyone. even those who happen to HAVE.

its funny, this city. you have gastown - a great oldish sorta section of the downtown that one could think of as the 'old town.' quaint. touristy. (read: rip-off prices at all the little shops there). middle and high class, for sure. and then, one only need cross cordova and voila. presto chango - one finds oneself in the slummy part of downtown. just like that. sort of like our very own platform 9 and three-quarters. cool, huh? NOT.

i can barely believe i am taking all this so well. by all this i mean being here, while M. is not. its exhausting, in a way. you never really realize how it works, when you marry someone and are with them for many years. you never really realize the way in which the two spirits sort of feef from each other. and now ... distance and two time zones separate us. and it feels .... wierd. i feel like part of my SELF has gotten amputated. honestly.

and several days have passed since i have had a really stimulated, reciprocal, intellectual conversation with another human. i have also felt sort of ... afraid of connecting to the world at large via the internet sometimes. just ... because ... well, my pysche's energy reserves feel desperately low. and to connect myself to the world at large like this ... well ... i don't feel the same intense compulsion i did before arriving in vancouver. wierd. well, not really. adjustments take energy. it just about sucking the life fore outta me. and ... also the very real possibility that M and i will not see each other until 2007. YIKES. i hate that thought. my birthday ... winter solstice ... our anniversary ... all may pass without me being able to even touch him - my M.

i dread the thought.

that's all.

sorry - no pics because this fucking shitty wireless network i'm on is FUCKING SLOW! UGH!

get your umbrella outta my face!

urgh. yeah. its raining. like ... a rain forest sorta rain. woah. and well, some people need to learn umbrella ettiquite in this town! oh well, not to sweat the small stuff, right? its all good.

um, yeah. it is, now that i find this place. wooweee. kewl. its like a neat little den - like a vapor den. remember watching sherlock holmes and seeing watson find him in an opium den? it looks all cosy like that in here. and this device called a volcano, made in germany, wow ...! its way cool! i DO love this town!

well, things change, but never the DTES (downtown eastside) of Vancouver. that famous corner of Hastings and Main exists here in this little section. and its vibrant ... colourful ... alive. oh yeah. at all times of the day and night pretty much. the Safe Injection Site looks like its aged more than its 3 years, lemme tell ya. yeah - well, junkies tend not to respect property very much. what's my first clue? well maybe its that huge board, covering what used to be a large, oh so large picture window. and ... you can look inside the place and see they had to begin constructing a new exit vestibule. hmmm ... i wonder if the feds still think that's a worthwhile venture? well, i suppose vancouver officials hope to keep this place open til the olympics are done. can't have the olympic public seeing the open drug trade, and etc here in vancouver, now can we?
well, those street junkies are sure wily. yeah - every day they have this huge sort of flea market, right on the side walk outside 25 E. Hastings. just the street dudes and what they have managed to find-steal-whatever. you know what they say - one man's trash, another man's treasure! enterprising, to say the least. well, its necessity being the motherhood of invention, ain't it?

yeah. coz its not like anyone else other than themselves is gonna look after things, is it? that's sort of the impression one gets, walking west on hastings, toward cambie st. yes, when you are walking in what most of the world classifies 'a great place to live' and you see a RAT on the sidewalk, you wonder. you wonder, just what the fuck is going on. and then it occurs to you - its a great place to live, only for certain individuals. yes yes. junkies live the results of their own choices, for sure. but ... compassion? or do we have criteria for that, too? and when when when will we LEARN. THE WAR ON DRUGS IS NOT WORKING!!! when? soon, i hope.


umbrella photo originally uploaded by louru

quick post, no pics

tastey news bits
did you know that death row inmates have myspace pages? and, well, of course they don't ADVERTISE the fact that they live on death row. hmmmm ... scary. and, did you hear about the family that's suing greyhound for damages after a sanitary tank got emptied on the highway on the family's SUV. YUCK! can you say ... e coli ... c diff ... and all kinds of other ICKY BUGS??? guess who's buying a new family vehicle?

a note for M
moose tried to undress himself again last nite, of course. i had to fasten the belt to his leather jacket. naughty moose ... :^B ... truly, i have this feeling that moose wants to somehow plot his way to those 'sexy boy' leather pants hanging on the doorknob of my new bedroom.

the radio's playing jewel, and i'm having an emotional orgy with her voice and the enrgy of her song. she asks "do you love me like i love you?" and darling i smile because i need not ask you this question. i know. i know the answer. i feel your absence. not just as a loss or silent aching. but i feel the entity that connects us - love. it burns brightly. i treat moose like he's holding a piece of your soul inside him.

about war and remembering our soldiers
i happened on the remembrance day service yesterday at the cenotaph in downtown vancouver. a sea of people, as far as the eye could see - all around victory square, all along cambie, hastings, and that little side street on the western edge of victory square whose name i cannot remember. anyway - the psychic wave from this gathering of 10,000 people just flooded me. it felt - overwhelming. but in an okay way. i could feel the intense emotion in the crowd. since i'm on the topic of the military, i will just say i think its pointless to vocalize opposition to current military campaigns. its like a zero sum game. what's the point? what does it accomplish?

i suppose those who oppose iraq and afghanistan don't consider the folks who sacrifice themselves to a military career. well, y'all should, y'know. ya should. i can say this because i opposed the invasion of iraq this time around. but, several years later and many lives lost and broken, does it matter? not really. its like protesting against the softwood lumber deal or free trade. futile. and i wonder, what value do opposers place upon military service and sacrifce? just wondering. perhaps it would make a difference of opposers channelled their energies of frustration and despair into constructive causes, like writing letters to soldiers, sending them care packages, or just taking some time to visit the cenotaph in your own town. SPREAD SOME POSITIVE ENERGY is what i'm saying.

pink luvs vancouver
i love this city. love it. have i told you, i feel as though i've come home? i went wandering again down east hasting. and i found a cool market grocery store. and just when i began to pine away for my reusable canvas shopping bag, this cool store had the for sale - tres cheap! yeaaay. and so i filled the bag with all kinds of good things. yum. i'm glad i remembered to pack my umbrella - we love rainfall warnings here, don't we?

the spirit of vancouver fills me. its verdant and lush, damp and cool like a rainy fall day. its hot chocolate at 4 am in at the wireless internet cafe downtown. its the tree outside my bedroom window with orange leaves AND succulent green buds. its screeching seagulls searching for their lost mates. its those steep hills that leave me almost breathless. its the high i feel just breathing in the air and considering all the amazing possibilities. its shiny, wet holly bushes, complete with lovely red berries. its sheets of rain puddles cascading along the slopes of the back lanes. its the towering old evergreens - not just the kind with those tiny needles, also the kind with cypress-like leaves. its the pittering tap of the raindrops against the side of the building that lulls me to sleep in mid afternoon. its shopping for fruit and vegies on the sidewalk in november. its a sea of umbrellas coating the sidewalks.

today today today

the separation
i felt a vital piece of my heart rip away as the bus started up and began slowly backing out of the terminal. an intense feeling of incompleteness squeezed my gut really tightly. i felt mildly nauseous. the full impact of my departure for vancouver hit me square in the gut the moment i lost my view of M. i felt simultaneously silly and unapologetic, at my silent tears and stifled weeping, as the bus slowly meandered its way thru the ghetto of downtown winnipeg and westward. i clutched my stuffed moose tightly. the moose M. gave me for my 2005 birthday. i treat this moose as if some very dear and fragile piece of M. heart lies buried deep inside. i tell myself it does. ok. 'nuff of that topic. *sniff*

the trip
W, my brother - the family gypsy, if ever we had one - told me to expect a crowd on this bus. in anticipation of the 'long weekend.' well, long because remembrance day - a statutory holiday - fall on a saturday and so most businesses will close on monday. anyway - grrr. far too many people. with all the psychic energy in the bus i felt as though it would explode. or perhaps my neural pathways - from absorbing it all. how do i turn that off? where's the switch for this ... this ... sensing ability i seem to have? i have yet to find it ... its debilitating sometimes. I HATE CROWDS! the consolation lay in the fact that i still had weed left and that i managed to get a seat very near the back of the bus. it seems all the potheads gravitate toward the back, doesn't it?

so ... as our bus set out on the trans canada highway on a sunny thursday morning, a set to work getting my nimble fingers a rollin! hee hee. a girl's gotta be prepared, y'know. i am not one of those losers that rolls reefers pathetically with no filter (urg - pet peeve - joints with no filters ... !!). anyway ... first stop brandon. i have no mental appetite. however my gut feels like it will inwardly collapse if i don't put food in it. so - one plate of greasy fries and gravy. oh yeah - like THAT'S food! ha ha. well, i ate enuf to prevent my from passing out and then went a walked around the block with my stinky little cigarettes.

the bus - its the fucking milk run! urgh - the driver pulls into ever forsaken little prairie village - you know place that comprise a grain elevator, a fuel station and a general store. yeah - so the driver pulls into each small fucking town ... dotted just off the highway at 15 or 20 minutes intervals. oh and he just goes in - blabs to the store clerk for 5 minutes and then comes out. no parcel to pack. no passenger. TIME WASTER!

ok. miracle upon miracle. we finally get out of manitoba. the only thing worse that being in manitoba is being in saskachewan. a giant fucking ping pong table. honestly - no bloody trees! and - FUCK its friggin -19 degrees celcius. yes - in regina. and swift current. and moose jaw. FUCK. COLD. oh burrrrrrrrrr that is COLD. and it feels colder still at 0215, when the bus driver wakes you from a delirious sleep to announce everyone must get off the bus while he refuels it. urgh ... it sucks. but -- may as well smoke another reefer!

ok ... so i had fucked up dreams - like wierd shit that i don't remember enuf to recall but sufficiently to know it seemed psychedelic. and also i kept waking up half asleep with this feeling that i had ... um .... like somehow become detached from my body. wierd. like - the sudden realization that i couldn't really feel myself. ha ha. anyway ... crossed over to alberta sometime in the wee hours of the morning. and calgary at the obsene hour of 0630. fortunately, i know where the staff smoking picnic table is, in some nearby yet obscure part of the terminal grounds. it'd snowed there. the snow looked oh so white. divinely white. of course ... i don't hafta tell you what i did there, do i? HAHA.

urgh .... the bus leaving calgary fucking filled up. and yes, i actually had to tolerate someone sitting beside me. it turned out pretty cool. i had forgotten what a great girlfriend a gay man makes. we smoked together of course. and we had lunch together at subway - yes i finally did eat. but only half a sub. the trip thru the mountains - its always nicest early in the morning. the sun shone down on the trees, giving their icey-silver coating a golden hue. ever see golden silver? on a tree kissed by jack frost? its breath taking. the mountains hulked, as they always do. and the canyons and crevices and deep rolling hills folded into one another. and the crystal green streams that trickle and sometimes rush down the mountain sides. thar's lime in them thar hills!

i found most annoying the chap sitting in a neighbouring seat, telling us tripped out pot heads shit like, 'oh this is where that tour bus when over the rail' ... at a deep canyon that brooded along side the highway. a highway with near hair pin turns. oh - did i mention the weather conditions in the moutains? snowy. like - poor visibility and black ice snowy. like - 'oh is that the ass end of the bus i'm on sliding and skidding slightly?' like - 'holy shit! look at that semi truck (with long trailer attached) laying on its side on the highway, at the foot of the mountain.' the bus driver surely earned his wages those few hours. whew.

the bus remained fucking packed basically most of the way. i lost my cool gay man girlfriend at revelstoke - that's where he got off the bus. and i managed to avoid a seat mate the rest of the way. still - all that energy in that bus coach. too fucking much. and my arm -- my arm that's not supposed to be broken because there's nothing on the xray except the scar of my growth plate - my arm fucking hurt! urg. possibily it had something to do with the numerous times i had to lift that fucking heaving back pack with my 'sore' arm. i dunno. well, eventually 600 mg of ibuprofen helped it. well made the pain bearable enuf that i lost the urge to just chew the fucking thing off its socket!

pathetically, i could not bring myself to leave my beloved moose unattended on the seat. so i stiffed him in my pack and brought him with me. sad sad sad, huh? well, whatever works i guess. possibly i'm just a child at heart? yeah - and also a junkie. when i smoked my last joint in kamloops i immediately set my mind to how i would go about hunting some down upon my arrival. hey - at least i'm honest about it. most people deny it - can't admit they're junkies.

yeah ... so ahhh ... by the time we got to kamloops it felt like having entered the garden of eden. green, warmer. even a little sun. nice. i saw a couple get on the bus. it reminded me of what i missed. especially when she laid her head on his shoulder and snoozed. especially then. the bus, of course, got behind schedule. only 1 hour. no biggie. and still it left plenty of time to go carousing around the usual spots for weed. oh i hate buying dope on the street. oh especially at nite. i almost laffed out loud when the dude asked me 'are you a cop?' haha ... nah man. i'd never pass the fucking drug test! lol.

arrived and ... !
oh yes. it was a colourful walk my son and i had in the downtown east side at around 0200 hours. colourful, indeed. i made a point of telling my son that's not how i normally make my purchases. however, desperate times .... [you know the rest, i'm sure]. sounds like funnnnnn, don't it? lol. oh ... and its hasn't stopped, yet. as of this writing its 16:11 and i have yet to sleep. not feeling like it yet. i do that. in a new place. especially without M. don't like sleeping. it feels to .... empty and lonely.

well, wireless internet cafes rule. especially those opened 24 hours. oh yeah. guess where i'm gonna hang out? ha ha. well, not ALL the time. i gotta get me a job on tuesday. and ... oh i know i know i owe about 5 or 6 emails ... yes - i have not forgotten. please allow me to catch up with myself. please.

i feel good here. well, aside from the absence of that a vital piece of my heart. along with that core part of my soul. its ... its ... still in winnipeg. with its most gentle and beautiful keeper. but you know something? M, darling, you're here with me too - i see you so much in our boy. and me, too. in many ways.

thinking of L. makes me sort of think of my own mum. and now that i'm here with L. i just don't get mother. and how she so easily can unload her burdens on her kids. in fact her interaction these days consists mainly of playing broken wing. most parents go out of their way to avoid burdening their kids. mother, on the other hand, prefers to manipulate her children into staying close by playing broken wing. its not working. for me, its not. sounds harsh, perhaps. but not if you know the whole story. and ... in the end, regardless of what i vent here, i remain distantly respectful. i have come to realize the distance - its a requirement for the respect to remain. that's where i'm at. at this point, its the best i can do.

i'm spent.

[fotos: (1). M - taken the day before i left winnipeg. (2). & (3). the view from 'my room.' the picture does not do it justice. it looks too one dimensional - maybe a flash next time?]

when i am an old woman ...

when i am an old woman ...
i shall wear shocking pink
with a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me
and I shall spend my pension on frappucinos and reefers
and satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
i shall sit down on the pavement when i'm tired
talk nonsense to strangers and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
i shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit.

you can wear terrible shirts and socks that don't match
and eat three pounds of curry at a go
or only bread and a pickle for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
but now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
we will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
but maybe i ought to practice a little now?
so people who know me are not too taken aback, surprised
when suddenly i am old and start wearing my shocking pink pants.

poem - originally written as
when i am an old woman i shall wear purple by jenny joseph
image from geekphilosopher

the lust of babel

i have spent some time here and there reading the bible. now that i see its stories without any filter, i feel awestruck at the wisdom of ages and the timeliness of the stories and issues contained within the great book. of late i have felt this nagging, lamenting hunger. and i turn to the wisdom of the great book for clarity. or to the wsdom of the great ancient sages and philosphers. to feel a little more filled with light. instead of doubts. and laments. for, studying the words of the wise invokes self-reflection.

the tower of babel strikes me today. the story, i mean. how fitting for today's world. pride goeth before a fall, and all that. believing onself divine ... or almost equal to g-d. worshipping and idolizing one's own product before all else. nietzsche said,

"in architecture, the pride of man, his triumph over gravitation, his will to power, assume a visible form. architecture is a sort of oratory of power by means and form."

indeed. and, as i look to the skyline it strikes me that the pursuit of architecture ~ seems lust-filled ... as in the lust with which one pursues an imminent carnal orgasm. we rape the earth in our quest to transcend our own finiteness. as if stone, glass and steel can provide the tools one needs to erect a conduit to the divine. but, we forget ... that it does not and cannot. yet, we cannot resist the urge to idolize ourselves. and so we continue to lust after the orgasm of architechtural triumph. not just one ... but many. and desire ... fuels our lust. and, lust brings ignorance ~ spiritual blindness. and we lose sight. and we lose understanding. of ourselves. of what surrounds us. particularly each other. and so ... we live out the fable of babel in our own modern-day existence.

the blue, or red, pill?

the following, an excerpt from matrix philosophy and written by oliver mcadoo, illustrates beautifully the notion that the manner in which one seeks and views truth colours the lenses through which he engages life.

mcadoo seems to think that taking the blue pill will lead one to the truth - eventually. i disagree. i’m not convinced. here’s my reasoning. i think that the blue pill represents learned helplessness: cultural/religious/sociologic repression of certain types of knowledge. DENIAL. with a view to order. with a view to maintaining the status quo. truth cannot exist where repression of knowledge does.

at any rate, the ideas, concepts and reasoning contained within the following excerpt make it worth the read.

remember, my friend … knowledge = empowerment

In the Matrix, which pill would you take, the red or the blue?

The question of which pill to take illustrates the personal aspect of the decision to study philosophy. Do you live on in ignorance (and potentially bliss) or do you lead what Aristotle called ‘the examined life’…

The Matrix is a film filled with religious and philosophical symbolism. The plot supposes that humans live in vats many years in the future, being fed false sensory information by a giant virtual reality computer (the Matrix). The perpetrators of this horror are machines of the future who use humans as a source of power. Humans are literally farmed.

The central character of the film, Neo, is presented to us in the opening part of the film as a loner who is searching for a mysterious character called Morpheus (named after the Greek god of dreams and sleep). He is also trying to discover the answer to the question “What is the Matrix?”

Morpheus contacts Neo just as the machines [- posing as sinister ‘agents’ - ] are trying to keep Neo from finding out any more. When Morpheus and Neo meet, Morpheus offers Neo two pills. The red pill will answer the question “what is the Matrix?” (by removing him from it) and the blue pill simply for life to carry on as before. As Neo reaches for the red pill Morpheus warns Neo “Remember, all I’m offering is the truth. Nothing more.”

The film as a whole and especially the choosing scene is deeply compelling. Why is the choice between what you believe you know and an unknown ‘real’ truth so fascinating? How could a choice possibly be made? On the one hand everyone you love and everything that you have built you life upon. One the other the promise only of truth.

The question then is not about pills, but what they stand for in these circumstances. The question is asking us whether reality, truth, is worth pursuing. The blue pill will leave us as we are, in a life consisting of habit, of things we believe we know. We are comfortable, we do not need truth to live. The blue pill symbolises commuting to work every day, or brushing your teeth.

The red pill is an unknown quantity. We are told that it can help us to find the truth. We don’t know what that truth is, or even that the pill will help us to find it. The red pill symbolises risk, doubt and questioning. In order to answer the question, you can gamble your whole life and world on a reality you have never experienced.

However, in order to investigate which course of action to take we need to investigate why the choice is faced. Why should we even have to decide whether to pursue truth?

The answer in short, is inquisitiveness. Many people throughout human existence have questioned and enquired. Most of them have not been scientists or doctors or philosophers, but simply ordinary people asking ‘what if?’ or ‘why?’ Asking these questions ultimately leads us to a choice. Do you continue to ask and investigate, or do you stop and never ask again? This in essence, is the question posed to Neo in the film.

So what are the advantages of taking the blue pill? As one of the characters in the film says, “ignorance is bliss” Essentially, if the truth is unknown, or you believe that you know the truth, what is there to question or worry about?

By accepting what we are told and experience life can be easier. There is the social pressure to ‘fit in’, which is immensely strong in most cultures. Questioning the status quo carries the danger of ostracism, possibly persecution. This aspect has a strong link with politics. People doing well under the current system are not inclined to look favourably on those who question the system. Morpheus says to Neo “You have to understand that many people are not ready to be unplugged, and many of them are so inured, so hopelessly dependent on the system that they will fight to protect it.”

The system also has a place for you, an expected path to follow. This removes much of the doubt and discomfort experienced by a trailblazer.

Another argument on the side of the blue pill is how does anyone know that the status quo is not in fact the truth? The act of simply questioning does not infer a lack of validity on the questioned. Why not assume that your experience is innocent until proven guilty? Just accept everything?

So if the arguments for the blue pill are so numerous, why take the red pill? Why pursue truth even though it may be unpalatable and the journey to it hard? In the film, Neo risks death to escape the virtual reality and discovers a brutal reality from which he cannot return. As he discovers the trouble with asking questions is that the answers are not necessarily what you want to hear.

To justify taking the red pill we might ask what is the purpose of an ignorant existence? Further still, what is there in merely existing? Simply existing brings humans down to the level of objects; they might have utility or even purpose, but where is the meaning? Existence without meaning is surely not living your life, but just experiencing it. As Trinity says to Neo, “The Matrix cannot tell you who you are.”

a major achievement for democracy

sadam's guilty verdict. does anyone else out there appreciate the hollow irony of a death by hanging sentence serving as a major achievement for democracy in a country riddled with violence? what does bush-43 mean by democracy? he called iraq a democractic country. really? that's what we're calling it these days, when 50 or 60 citizens get brutally murdered? when ordinary citizens cannot really trust the police force, because of a raging infiltration by the militias?

ok. cause i thought its something else ... like CIVIL WAR! lets take a few steps back here. and ask ourselves. can democracy exist there? i mean, really? think ... think ... think ... before answering. i really believe its so complex - politics and society in that the middle east. the entire historical and present-day context we must consider when speaking of this region. the waters seem muddied indeed. what impact would leaving iraq have upon iran? upon gaza? upon israel? and what of staying? does iraq remain one homgenous society? or does it become a confederation of smaller states/cantons/provinces?

and we must always consider that the cultures of the middle east differ markedly from our own. i really believe in the mutual exclusivity, for societies, of fundamentally extreme religious beliefs and democratic principles of social inequality. i venture the assertion that societies such as iraq and iran differ from western societies in that they find themselves hundreds of years behind, in terms of social evolution. so, that said. can that region really become democratic, in the western sense of the word?

what constitutes democracy in any society? did we think south africa had democracy when apartheid remained in effect? likely not. so ... why does removing sadam and staging some elections create a democracy? did the democracies of canada and the usa evolve to their current states in 5 years? NOPE. so ... what's going in iraq? good question. but i doubt any of it constitutes a major achievement for democracy.

a picture speaks 1,000 words

i'm collecting the stories of injured soldiers.
many sources of information tell us about our fallen soldiers.
not-so-many tell us about those who have returned
from the battlefield with a permanent, life-altering injury.
i want to tell those stories.
for, i believe these soldiers, even though they live,
also gave their lives. i want to honour this.
if you encounter such a soldier's story
that you find particularly inspiring,
please share it with me ...
so i can honour the story and the individual.
i aim, with this project, to transcend
national borders, military campaigns, political lines
and, instead, focus upon the human element.


originally uploaded by violinsoldier

a leg, dancing on the plate

"whenever i look at my dinner tray, i can see my leg dancing on the plate."

she sobbed. until the pain pressed all the vibrancy from her soul. and the phantom pains. they began to resurface. i felt my spirit, inside my body ... wilting under the weight of her loss. her anger brought frightening and spiteful energy to the surface. it made her mean. i served her anyway. that's my job. and why wouldn't she feel mean? she just lost her right leg. below the knee. when i brought her tray to her bedside, and opened all the plastic containers. she would not eat. she sobbed. i could feel her spirit wilting inside.

no wonder the doc did not want to do rounds during her waking hours. no wonder he did not want to talk to her. its as though ... he could not face her. swirling in that energy realm. well, a nurse does not have that option. a nurse must march onto the battlefield. and serve. and give. and submit. she caused me such annoyance ... such grief ... even offended at times with her mean-ness of grief. still, i felt for her. and for her husband, who came to visit her daily, soo faithfully. one day he said to me ... 'i'm at a loss. i don't know what to do.' i felt it. i felt like i didn't either. i mean, psychologically, spiritually. but i could not say that, could i? i can't remember what i said exactly ... but i did impart some sort of encouragement ... wisdom. and, in the end we both understood her. her feelings. and ... in each our different ways, we loved her.

that's why i cannot nurse anymore. i love people - humanity - too much.

cpl paul franklin - a solider's story

The pain was excruciating.
He called it 'the most g-d awful pain you could ever imagine.'
'I've never felt anything like that and I would never give it to my worst enemies.'

and that's cpl paul franklin's description of what it felt like, when a suicide bomb in kandahar ripped off the greater part of his left leg and also ignited parts of his body. and ... after 26 surgeries, a double BKA (below the knee amputation), and several month of rehab, franklin walked on that stage, with his two prosthetic legs. he hobbled along, with his two canes, proudly wearing his uniform. and he touched the purest and most raw innard of my heart.

he denied claims that referred to him as 'hero.' he instead wishes glory for all the canadian troops fighting on the hindu kush ... and other places in afghanistan. he claims glory for himself only as a representative of canadian troops out there, fighting for canada, for what canadians hold dear. indeed, though he did not say, i would venture a guess he wishes glory for all soldiers - including the brits and americans in iraq.

paul franklin can walk only about 800 metres at a time. he doubts what he can do. he knows, in his heart of hearts, he will never run again. never run again with his 6 year old son. but, y'know something? he will try still. it touched me deeply - paul franklin touched me deeply - when he spoke of a promise made to his wife. 'i promised audra i would come home, no matter what.' and he recalls that thought keeping him from letting go, slipping away from living consciousness on the battleground, to the other side.

this man touched me. with what he said. they way in which he said it. and with his great big compassionate heart. it burst through the tv's photons. i could see it. feel it. touch it. cpl paul franklin burned with his positivism. with his bright light. and ... when asked his feelings about those who oppose the war in afghanistan, the wounded soldier gave a reply filled with wisdom, tolerance and love. and not whiney outrage, bitterness and intolerance.

it makes me think ... makes me appreciate my country.

ahhh ... my dear sweet canada -
a place which does NOT embody
the "for or against" philosophy.
tolerance ... they name is canada ... thy name is love.

[however could i think of leaving this place? my canada ... however could i think of leaving this country that my dad chose, that M chose - from the world at large they both chose canada. how could i leave? i do love it so ... even when i say i don't.]

ahh - but i digress ...

cpl paul franklin fought for what he believed in and lost his legs. instead of tending to the wounded soliders on the battleground, franklin will now live out his remaining career imparting this skill upon others. he will don that uniform ... that one that took his legs ... and teach other soldiers how to do what he did. medics - paramedics - embody even more divinity and grace than do nurses. press on, cpl franklin. you leave me in awe.

why do we find wounded soldiers so noble? is it because they gave a body part for their cause? is it because they laid their life down for the cause? perhaps its because they follow through upon what they believe? all of the above. and so ... heros abound. they surround us. and so? the biggest hero of all, here? the little 6 yr old boy - simon - who will never play run alongside his dad. and all the children who have given their dads to the cause. of war. of liberating. and relieving suffering.

thank you simon ... and all the children you represent.
you have given us more than you can imagine.

images originally uploaded by peejoe and limbic

its not quite remembrance day here
- that is november 11 -
but, i remember today. remember that,
many men and women wage war daily -
doing a thing i cannot.
we all serve humanity in different ways.
the way of a soldier ...
its a painfully ugly noble compassion.
and you, soldier, walk it.
i thank you
... i honour you ...
for walking the walk that i cannot.

the poppy - its for you.

image originally uploaded by kayodeok

still here because ...

bad weather in the columbia mountains means treacherous travel conditions in the mt passes, already some of the most dangerous stretches of highways in canada. soooo ... i'm here 'til the weather system passes thru that part of the columbia region - sunday or monday. i plan to use the extra time here to write a post about cpl paul franklin, a canadian soldier that lost his legs in afghanistan in a suicide bombing. he made a speech at a red friday rally and it moved me.

image originally uploaded by suckamc

-SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS FOR YOU-

i got restless again. and, well, i changed things. yet again. HA HA. ahh, y'all must be used to it by now. i promise though, not to change the urls anymore. i wanted this blog to have a plain look, since its the only one with the great pics. and the sidebar on this one is long enough. there's others. you can see 'em via my profile. oh, btw, i moved the political blog back here, from wordpress. just so y'all know. its now this. its just become easier to have everything in one place. i got my blogs the way i want 'em for the forseeable future.

if you can see yourself, you can help others. recognition of self in a looking glass and capacity for empathy seem related somhow. according to studies done with animals. chimpanzees, elephants and dolphins recognize themselves in a looking glass. monkeys, birds, and some cats/dogs see their reflection as another of their kind. interesting, huh?

why bush-43 won't let rummy and cheney go. well. its simple really. these two must remain in the bush cabinet because they serve as the most splendid scaegoats for bush-43. they have really, really come in handy these past many month, when the media has pounded the current administration for its incompetence in iraq. i had this ephiphany this morning when i read the president's quoted statement telling americans cheney and rummy would remain thru to the end of his term in office. why else would bush-43 refuse rummy's resignation? because its working for bush-43 to have rummy around, a villain we all love to hate. and surely anyone looks good - even dubya - alongside a man who shoots his friend in the face!

i'm leaving on a greyhound. yup. i'm taking the greyhound to the west coast. my bus leaves winnipeg tonight - just b4 midnight. and it arrives in vancouver sunday at 0800 - that's am. ugh. i'm 5'8 and all leg. like, my legs are loooooong. blood clot city, here comes pink. ok. well, that's the point. i'll just hafta duck out to smoke a splif at every single stop the bus makes, now won't i? gotta keep that circulation going. gotta prevent those blood clots. that's my story and i'm sticking to it.



please feel free to publish pink's link. here it is. just so you know. i'm not hidin' out anymore. got nuthin' to hide from. so link away!

my recent posts. i know. i know. i got lotsa blogs and i'm hard to keep track of. yeah, well, try being married to me. M.'s forever telling me he can barely keep up with me. anyway. the "nightingale" blog is something i started to write about my nursing encounters. touching g-d has a post about letting go of our children - like, letting them grow up and into themselves. the "tales" blog has several new posts, one of the recent posts delves into addiction. the post, in this blog, just before this current post is part 2 of the life post.

whaddya think? just a small aside ... i toyed with the idea of starting a health file blog - like a place where i could post all this health information that's clogging up my neural pathways ... its all very useful info. but not doing much good rotting away inside my head. it would provide the answers to common and timely health concerns. like ordinary things such as heartburn, insomnia, or stuff about diseases or whatever. i don't profess to know everything. but i have collected a lot of health and medical intelligence over the years. it only seems appropriate to continue sharing it in some way. i will no longer have a license to practice nursing. but i can certainly share what i know with others - with y'all. does that sound like a dumb idea? maybe. but ... i'm gonna work on it. slowly though. for - i've found another distraction to write about.

image - night-time skyline of vancouver - originally uploaded by chris rae