A Prayer For Us All

 

I used a picture taken by a dear friend of mine [who wishes to receive credit only as public domain] as the inspiration for this piece. This photo ~taken in Vancouver's Downtown East Side ~ really depicts a piece of graffiti with an wonderful sentiment. Keep us safe and sound. Made by me using GIMP, brushes courtesy of Obsidian Dawn. Click the image for full-size view.

Foto Finish Friday :: The Ones That Didn't Make It

I have decided to make Foto Finish Friday a chance to feature and 'finish' my own photographs, rather than someone else's. I will choose from the many photos that I took for my Project 287, that did not 'make the cut.' The photo below, I took on the W. Georgia side of the Vancouver Art Gallery. It's part of the main feature of the grounds, there ~ a lovely stone-sculptured fountain that has several sides, depicting a nymph-like creature, climbing up the rocky slope. Creator, Alex Svoboda used as his inspiration for this magnificent piece the legends of the Celts, Gauls and Britons, the forebearers of of the earliest British Columbians. He carved this magnificent piece from 18 ft-high black marble, which came from Carrara, Italy. The design centred around a motif of water, and the fountain commemorates the union of the Crown Colony of Vancouver Island with the mainland ~ 1966.

on the street where i live

~ wading in it?

it's a snapshot of the little walking man that one finds at every crosswalk-traffic light intersection. taken on a rainy Monday evening with my cell phone camera and then doctored using lunapic online. doesn't life sometimes feel like this image?



~ we endure.

like the mighty oak, we endure. methodically, with strength & sensibility, & grounded in longevity, vigour & loyalty. i feel like this leaf sometimes.





~ "... and forget about everything ..."

a rainy night, on the short walk home from the bus stop. the circle of life continues turning ... life moves perpetually forward. even when our spirits succumb to the inertness of despair, impatience and desire.

bus stop

On Monday evening I took a jaunt to the Safeway at Broadway Station to get some kitty food and litter. I walked to the bus stop at Commercial & 14th and then waited for the no. 2o bus. while I waited I took these 5 pictures.



Then found LunaPic, an online photo editor. and so 5 simple pictures inspired the images below.

could i be her?

Could I be like her?

Feel like her?

You know what's most painful

about a major break-up?

Not belonging.

I have, for so long,

defined myself by those around me -

someone's wife ... someones' mother ... someones' nurse ...

and, after all these years

of achieving meaning thru the lives of others,

I now ask myself who am I?

Who the fuck is Frizzy?

Oh to be like the redhead in that photo -

she looks to me like she belongs there,

like she's got a destination, a meaning.

photo taken by -the krazy genius-

urban beauty

Beauty - a thing seldom seen

Yet, held by all.

It lies, within souls,

waiting to surface,

but requires, to survive,

the mingling of spirits.

Only love can draw beauty

from its dark womb.

Love, such as that embodied

within the photographer's eye.

Visit the flickr site of

my friend, the krazy genius
to see more like these ...

Mute Monday ~ Summer

[NB: this one is wallpaper-sized ... feel free to click on the image to see the full size & then grab it]

** FYI ~ all of these photos taken by frizzy **
i shot all pics [except the grafitti pic]
at the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Chinese Garden,
located in Vancouver's Chinatown.
to see more of these pics,
visit my Flickr site
[link in sidebar].

the needle cafe ~ thoughts?

I wrote a piece a few years back, after my stint at that place I now call the needle cafe ~ the sunshine-heads that cooked up this ridiculous waste of taxpayers' funds like to delude themselves by calling it the safe injection site ... HA, what's safe about it? Sorrry, I've tried, but can't think of anything safe about watching (dirty) street junkies shoot up using insulin needles filled unsterile drugs! And, I can't really think of how this prevents junkies from getting sicker, and sicker. I feel pretty confident about the fact that I would ultimately get charged with neglect, if I ever tried to start an IV on a patient with an insulin needle (too small to reach the vein), after having washed my hands in a dirty, fetid alley-puddle! So ... why does everyone think this f*cking needle cafe such a good idea?

~ see? this needle is tooo short for a venipuncture! ~

~ and this ... this is what we use in the hospitals to start IVs - much longer! ~

Anyway ...

I find myself thinking about what to do with this knowledge I have ... I think I will have to revisit this piece. I know I will, given that the Federal Minister of Health plans to make a decision regarding the future of this site by year's end! Here's the link, anyway. Keep in mind that I wrote this 3 years ago, so the quality of the writing may seem like slightly less than what you've come to expect from me. Anyone who reads this ~ I'd appreciate your constructive feedback, in a comment or via e-mail.

needle cafe PDF

irrelevant, rhetorical, cynical questions

things i just wonder today ...

1. re: queen of the north sinking

finally ... after alot of sitting on their thumbs and rotating ... bc ferries has done what's long overdue - fired the asses of the three crew members in charge of the deck when said ferry slammed into gill island @ full speed and sunk, killing 2 people. what took so long ... ? bureaucrats justifying their pathetic existence, no doubt.

still ... despite the fact that 2 peopled died when this ferry sank a little over a year ago ... the public has yet to find out the full truth of what exactly happened. 3 crew members - one wonders WTF could've distracted them so much that they let a fucking ferry slam into an island. hmmmm - i'm just hypothesizing here ... but two male and one female crew member(s) ... geeee I WONDER what they could've possibly been doing!?? (hint - rhymes with duck, perhaps? just guessing ... since no one who knows wants to talk ... guess 'josephine public' just gotta make up her own theory, right?)

2. re: shane doan

why do federal bloc quebecois politicians - ie the bloc is that political party that only runs candidates in quebec and established itself on a separatist platform - give a shit who the fuck represents canada @ the world hockey championships? like - did i miss the memo that came out, saying nationalism's a fucking grand standing tool we can use to gain political points? since when do the separatists give a shit about canada? ha ... i scoff.

3. re: the vancouver canucks finish the season

duh! did anyone out there think that luongo - truly a stellar goalie - could win the fucking series all by himself? like - 56 saves later ... c'mon guys - as don cherry said once - 'don't forget to give those skates back to your sister, kid.'

4. re: 7,000 cruise ship tourists disembark from 4 cruise ships in downtown vancouver @ THE SAME TIME and they're pissed off they can't get cabs.

WTF?? could any city meet such a demand? gimme a break. and while we're on the topic - who the fuck planned this? 4 cruise ships all docking @ the same time? get real. and yeah ... locals can't even get cabs (many cabbies ILLEGALLY refuse to take locals from downtown to the suburbs late @ night, leaving them stranded), so why should we feel for those 7,000 tourists who are pissed they waited 2 hours for a fucking cab?

oh ... so does this make vancouver a world class city now? does this mean we're ready for the 2010 olympics? hahahahahaha! i laugh. as a lowly, buspass-holding, walking, i-don't-own-a-car and i-don't-take-cabs vancouverite ... i laugh.

i cynically am waiting for 'cash-strapped' translink to magically come up with $ to make the skytrain (i.e. subway) a 24 hour service - just in time for the olympics. FUCK THE OLYMPICS!

now ... if only we could find a bus or some large freight hauler to move all those unsightly homeless people and street junkies to mission or some other quiet, outtatheway place so's the VERY IMPORTANT olympic crowd won't hafta see the third world that's rapidly developing in vancouver ... hmmmm.

5. so ... does giving up pot make me healthier?

i have traded in my rolling papers and pot grinder for a package of cyanide sticks (i.e. cigarettes). does this make me a 'better' person? apparently. does it make me healthier. well, who knows ... considering the science says that pot is less harmful than both ETOH and nicotine. and more addictive. hmmmph.

[don't get me wrong ... i'm glad to be off the stuff ... just - appreciating the irony of the whole situation].

6. do i give a shit that paris hilton's going to jail? am i supposed to? why is that newsworthy?

7. re: kim basinger and pamela bach

why, oh why, are ex wives such BITCHES? get a clue girls ... and get the fuck over yourselves! and stop using your kids like some fucking pawns in a chess game. that just makes you pathetic and sad.

8. why does anyone think 12 degrees and sunny = shorts and flip flips weather? i mean, really?

9. why is there $ for the provincial politicians to get a 29% pay raise ... and there's no money for things like, oh, say - affordable housing, addictions programs, health care ...? just wondering how that accounting works. did i miss the math lesson?

ok. i think that's it. that' s what i wonder.

treasures from AP

some candy for your eyes
and some food for your mind, spirit, soul

on this monday morning --

the first monday of spring 2007? really?

(honestly -- wow)

8love to y'all!7

psssst - have place and all moving arrangements secured.

moving friday

how relieved do you think i am? [*WHEW!*]

the best part?

moving takes place while i am in whitehorse

i can hardly wait to sleep in MY OWN BED!!!

[it has been ..... almost 5 months and my lumbar spine's feelin' it!]

and .... the sad part?

leaving my precious little pigeon friend, winnie =8^((

welcome to my jungle

written 5.03.07 and not posted
a sane-looking man with white hair shouting out to the street about concentric circles and disappearance of the human race. the groaning and grinding of a diesel engine. a staccato melody only motor coach or new flyer would compose. the growl of a pepsi truck. the garish, brassy, high-pitched whine of construction machinery. constant. unyielding. for @ least 8 hours per day.

the brassy hue to this noise hurts the exposed nerves of my decaying molars. i run my tongue along the caps of said teeth - an attempt to soothe my dental viscera from the brutal, offensive jarring. my cerebral cortex feels clogged. so much sensory input. each molecule of space, infused with sound. no silence in which to bathe my weary axons and dendrites in my sacred solitary moments.

the temperature display says 21 degrees celcius on this day, @ 2.28.46 in the afternoon. i convince myself someone mixed up the 1 and the 2 and the temperature should read 12. i am wearing a scarf and my wool coat. and i still feel the chill. i cannot imagine its 21 degrees and i'm dressed like this!

pink blossoms @ nite

picture moved to my new foto blog

taken saturday nite,
in the vancouver art gallery 'park' -
near the olympic clock

it was raining.
the blossoms looked lush.
its still raining.
and - they still do.
it will rain here for days.
i am keepin' on the sunny side.
just like june carter says.

a slice of my day

it all started this afternoon, after i'd decided i'd had enough of C#. i needed to go to marks work wearhouse and get me a pair of 'duckies' -- those are waterproof shoes, for those of you that don't know WTF i'm talkin' about.

so - annnnyyyyywaaaays - i went. and i bought. and then i puttered around kitsilano (my old neighbourhood, affectionately called 'kits' by us locals) for the afternoon. saw some flowers ... some very, very early cherry blossoms ... then ... visited the ocean! ahhhh .... ocean. first time @ the dog beach without my beloved pooch (since he died last august). i felt him, trotting alongside me. the feeling of him, stroking my heart, made my heart smile. i had such a sweet day - here's a sweet slice it, just for you ... and you ... and you!

if you scroll down to the end of this post, you will see the slideshow i made from some of these pics, complete with ocean-waves background sound!

FYI - this slide show i made in iphoto on my brilliant ibook. the sound is a sound recording i made, on my cell phone, of the surf-tide, that i imported into itunes and then added to the slideshow (yeah - kewl! you can do that! makes me wonder: 'why does anyone have a pc?').

pics/vid moved to the foto blog.

tuesday evening bells

it did not escape me that this .... metamorphosis my spirit appears to be moving toward ... commenced around the beginning of lent. it did not escape me. nor did it escape me that, mere moments after i arrived in the park, and took my seat on the concrete overlooking the pond .... that the cathedral bells began joyously chanting. chanting a vibrant light into the descending darkness. this did not escape me. each time i step out of the building, the first thing i see is the cathedral, and our lady perched up there, near the bell tower. i listen to the bells ... contemplate them. as though vessels that carry the our lady's sentiment ... wisdom ... to the four corners. one only need to reach out and grab a tendril ... savour a rich morsel ... of this energy.

and so i sat, as night unfurled its petals before my tired eyes. and i watched wilbur the goose (read about him here ... and here gracefully contort his neck. i stared deep into the black of his lovely swan-like neck. as i watched its thick sheen dance onto itself it made me think of a thick, plush, black velvet rope. the feathers of his dorsum glittered faintly, as though he'd mucked about in gold leaf and got most of it, not quite all of it off. the stippled brindle of each individual feather i found mezmerizing. as he flared his wings to jump into the pond, i held my breath. and then he gently floated away. sort of like a paper boat floats - effortlessly.

[still planning a "silver harbour - pt 2" post ... stay tuned]

it all starts today

i am going to quit smoking weed. i've decided. i thought about it. about the fact that it costs so fricken much $. money that i could apply in so many better ways. i thought about it. like ... with the $ i would save from 4 weeks of going without weed, i could treat myself to a weekend of solitude in the mountains. when i think on this scale, it occurs to me just what i am giving up to stay high. its ridiculous. i notice i don't really wanna smoke when i blog, do blog hacs, design and/or tweak templates, and work on my digital art. so ... i guess i need to get more expressive and less stoned.

i went to the market to get some groceries with a $10 bill. i got a nice assortment of stuff. call me crazy, but there is nothin' like some black beans on top of good ole maci-cheese ... all topped of with piquante salsa sauce. and so i feasted. i am so hungry - have not eaten well these past few days. and it seems, today my body demands recompense! and so ... what can i do, but bow down? i have learned, by now - one must listen to one's own body. and one must stop ... long enough, to hear the the message.

i cannot believe how far a $10 can go, if you don't buy drugs. a simple statement ... but you must understand - a monumental one for an addict. and so ... this merely reinforces my decision to stop. or more accurately - re-priorize. its not so much about whether or not i smoke weed. its about setting accurate life priorities. and maximizing my potential.

i emerged from the underground tunnel mall that makes me feel like a prairie dog, popping out from a hole in the ground. as i began my ascent, i imagined that the furious collective sigh i heard emanated from the ocean. and i imagined myself not walking up a concrete staircase, but along the shore of a restless sea. i imagined that the splashes which emanated from the shiny metal boxes zooming north on seymour street were, in fact, the splashes of the tide slapping the shore. i imagined ....

and all the while - my heart longed.

a smoky-silver velvet blanket
still cocoons
my immediate exterior world.
i still feel like
a magenta dot
in a sea of monotone murk.

my wish for today

I can't help getting the feeling that we are rodents burrowing underground in our mammoth concrete tunnels, with our shiny metal boxes. My gaze strokes the scarred ravine @ the tracks' edge. peppered with garish yellow plastic crates, discarded clothing that's been tossed on the low lying brush, and assorted other trash. i'm sure if i could see up close, i would see discarded, empty sterile water containers and used insulin needles - a tell tale sign that junkies live here - everywhere ... here. the trees - they bow down, as if in painful deference to skytrain number 234.

misty rain and a velvet gray sky inhaled existence today. the world felt hollow - emptied of vibrance. i felt like a solitary, flaming magenta lily pad, floating in a murky grey monotone pond. that's what the city makes me feel like. i long for solitude. quiet solitude. and the song of the gentle mountain breeze lazily whispering ancient secrets thru the trees. i long to hear the loudest silence ... the collective silent sigh of the forest. and ... i long to see those brooding summits. and, most of all ... the crisp salty scent of the water's edge. and to hear the sweetest sound - the fretful sighing of my beloved pacific ocean.

quiet. peaceful solitude. that is what i wish for. right @ this moment.

the sacredness of birds

i have a sort of quiet, hidden passion for birds. really. why? they have wings. wings that take them to heights, views and places that we can only imagine. close to the heavens their wings take them. the knowledge their wings afford them gives them a sort of sacred place, i believe. and i have always sort of mythicized that birds are somehow linked to the spiritual world - carrying or guiding souls to their next destination. i feel this in my heart and soul. tho you may think me absolutely INSANE.


so ... here is are some shots i got with my cell phone last week, when i was sitting in the park, smoking a spliff. a gander came out of the pond and walked right up to me, flared his wings, opened his beak and began to honk @ me. just before he could make any sound, i spoke to him in a firm voice - told him he would not bully me. told him to lose the attitude. he closed his wings, stopped honking.


a retreat, of sorts. he lingered by me a little and these shots i got as he began to walk away.

dead in the water

dead.
in the water.
it was.
d-e-a-d.
a bird.
in the fountain-pond thingy.
a black bird. floating.
i did not see it at first.
neither did M
we sat on the edge
of the concrete wall
in cathedral park -
the east side of the park
and we started puffing.
and then i looked down
at the water.
and i saw it.
dead.
it looked like a baby vulture
because its head had no feathers
and looked pinkish
M called it a raven
he walked over to the
broken umbrella, discarded
just a few feet away from our spot
and grabbed said umbrella,
then reached into the pond
and scooped the dead bird out,
and then discretely placed all
in the garbage bin.

why do i find it
so disturbing
to see a dead bird?

just another saturday

the street urchin got his face kicked in, it seemed, by some thugs, for a rip off. i'm guessed its something like this which lead to the beating in the park. if anyone saw, no one remembers or saw a thing. and the asshole whole called 911 clearly did not see a fucking thing. and clearly does not live in the neighbourhood. or he would have known better.

the pigs came into the building. they questioned linus, the guy that guards the front desk. the pigs asked linus if he saw anything. he said he 'knew nothing about nothing' ... that's what everyone said to the pigs when they asked, i think. the pigs went upstairs to knock on some doors - maybe someone saw something. nope. hmmmm - wouldn't you know it? no one's answering. the pigs left.

but they hung around the neighbourhood for hours, i suppose. coz when i left for work they had the whole fucking park yellow-taped off. all because some street urchin got a bleeding face from some beating he sustained when he was fucking already high and strung out on some crack or crystal meth or whatever shit he was frying in his pipe.

all that fuss over a street urchin who likely ripped of his thug dealers, somehow. y'know those street urchins would sell their mothers to get high? truly they would, without a thought, or even a pang of guilt. this .... desperate and degrading behaviour, courtesy of drug prohibition. any junkie knows that restricting the supply of the addictive substance does NOTHING to reduce deviant addictive behaviour. in fact, it just provokes deviance.

when someone has you in a stranglehold, and you cannot breathe, do you suddenly try to find ways to survive with less oxygen? NOPE. you kick and gouge and flail and fight to the death to get that airway back. and so it is here. junkie must survive. drug = survival. survival means @ all cost. the end.

life's like that.