Monday, November 16, 2009

To all who wished me a great weekend:

Wasn't going to touch the blog during November Nanowrimo but this is my only form of diary and I must record the following!


Saturday I spent the entire day with another fine cousin: Renaissance Kid, his girlfriend and their buddies. Renaissance Kid shares a house with five other university students, two budgies, six chickens and three quail.


We built a new quail coop. Seems a hungry skunk got in to the last one and cut the home's quail contingent in half. Now the survivors have a pretty significant upgrade. I was on the door committee and sawed the wood for the door and door frame. Also helped out a little with the trench refillage, a little chicken wire stapling and the munching of apple walnut muffins and very leafy mustardy gai choy.


I was served two outragously delicious vegan meals, engaged in several useful discussions with very kind humanitarian and environmentally conscious kids and played a wildy funny game they call telephone pictionary. Can't remember the last time I laughed so hard.


Sunday I met with my excellent Nano friends, pumped out a few thousand words for the Eye of Atchooah piece and had a nice visit from the Illicit Sweetheart. It had been a while. We talked about the future, acknowledged that our paths lie in different directions, and it was all comfortable; all good.


So to all those who on Friday wished me a great weekend... Done!
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Monday, October 26, 2009

Anyone remember the Cayber Crystal?

Way back in the summer of 2007 I started a little blog project where I took continual random input from blog friends and built a story around it - the challenge being to eventually close the story in cohesive fashion - where all random-driven tangents were brought together and properly resolved.

Well, there was no resolution because the project died after four chapters - and not for lack of participation. Flumadiddle, Supermom, Kat and Freak Magnet did their part to provide the random elements but somewhere in the middle of chapter five I wandered off and never returned. That's my life story, by the way. I start projects and don't finish them.

Well, the November Novel Writing Month festival looms and I'm using it to give Renzi the ranger and her kooky friends new life! The core NaNoWriMo challenge is to write 50,000 words in 30 days. I'm hoping that's right about the number needed to wrap up the story of Renzi the ranger, Lance Lightfinger; agent of stealth, Jean Tourette; the foul-mouthed adept of Conundrua, Ike; the dim-witted but lovable swordsman, Snuggaroot; the hobbit-sized dwarf, and the bumbling wizard; Wilbur Kleptivo Mizo Suprus.

The band shall be dispatched to win the legendary Eye of Atchooah from a vault in Mount Gazoon. That's right. The Gazoon Heights. I could do 50,000 words on sneeze gags alone.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

A new friend. New strength.

I spent this past Sunday with my cousin, World Citizen, on the eve of his 30th birthday. I had not seen him in many years; ten perhaps. He was probably between missions to Nepal and Ecuador at the time. This spring he moved to Toronto after a long stint in India, home of an experiential environmental education centre of which he remains "the impetus" and a central stakeholder.

He spoke of challenges, of opposition, of earthquakes and masked gunmen and the difficult internal reconciliation when the offering of love evokes a response of hate.

He spoke of activism and a plan under which every motorist in the world might trade in their cars for investment into the environment and the future.

He mentioned that he too, writes, and like an ass, I never got around to asking him about the nature of his writing, and now I'm dying to know.

He spoke of meditation and how it ceased to be a prison and became the greatest ever experience of self-discovery. Traditional meditation, that is; not simply the solitary ardent contemplation which I have made an indulgent habit of labelling meditation.

He spoke of his humble introduction to international charity when the cutest girl in his high school raised her hand to volunteer and his own hand couldn't help but follow.

He spoke of time management and in an off-hand way, as if saying shave or pick up mail he listed among his daily agenda items: "beneficence."

He spoke of that yearning for pilgrimage common to many of us.

He spoke of seeing that which he was not, so to glimpse of that which he is.

He spoke in a voice quiet and firm; one softened, I perceive, by confidence, integrity and - I dare say - love. Love as a state of being, that is.

As we watched the departing sun turn the trees on the too-close horizon into black lacy silhouettes, he spoke of the city and the omnipresent trade of absurdities between its' peoples and he mourned his separation from those natural landscapes he'd made home, and the logistical barriers that isolate his dreams and goals from one another; a dilemma that I, and many, know well.

And concerning his previous home; a place to which I must decide if I will journey, he gave me solid advice; concise, direct and very insightful - not just in terms of his knowledge but in terms of understanding the root of my inquiries.

I do not state this lightly: I perceived our long conversation as being one of perfect honesty and openness and trust; an experience shatteringly rare.

Without a doubt the specifics of his priorities and mine currently differ, but so far seem entirely compatible. I sense we may each have found a valuable associate. From my perspective, he is easy to trust and put faith in, because in terms of promoting harmony, he has accomplished more than I might ever - and all prior to an age at which I was still a dull idiot, consumed within my own greed, lust and reputation, and a host of petty dramas.

I look forward to making my self of use to his endeavors. I look forward to talking to him again soon. There is still so much to discuss.
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Saturday, October 10, 2009

My Interview

This is an interview meme. Suki has asked me these questions:

1. What is the greatest change you see taking place in your life right now?

Change is abundant right now. On the surface it may seem that change of residense and workplace are the most significant, but not so. My perception of residense and my perception of workplace are the greater changes. Where I sleep on a given night and where I contribute rent are meaningless details to me. This planet is my home and all my instincts are nomadic. Where and how I earn some money for bread is another trivial detail. My work is my purpose in life. It is my meditation, writing, research and my vigiliance; in short, the poetic process.


2. Which is your favourite among the comics you've made?

I guess the one about the blackberry because I suspect I'm the only one who finds it funny. I don't know if anyone else even gets it.


3. If you could sum up the philosophy of your life in fifty words, what would they be?
I'm a unique entity in the universe; miraculously fortunate to be alive on an earthly paradise, shielded from a universe of hydrogen and radiation; a creature blessed with "the illusion of consciousness"; to have survived the horror of self realization and found access to unlimited sources of peace, freedom and harmony and with a consolidated joyful purpose to my existence.


4. On a scale of -10(he'll be worse than Bush) to 10(he'll raise America to its zenith), how high are your hopes for Obama as President?

Zero.

That perhaps millions of people who think of themselves as black or as some racial minority and think likewise of Obama and think of American presidency as the ultimate position of power and who may now feel empowered; a sense of legitimacy; a new belief that their skin need not limit their social potential despite the white man's insanity - for them, I am tearfully joyful. My highest expectations were already met.

Other than that, I am entirely uninterested. People seem to assume that one's nationality is a primary factor of their living experience. My observations dictate otherwise. When is the last time I read something in the newspaper; heard something on the radio or from a friend that concerns nations or politics that isn't absurd or illogical or that has any connection to an unvarnished truth?

Never. Not one legitimate word that I can recall. Nations and political systems are built entirely of fictions. I realize that no one will accept what I've just said. But rare perspectives born of rare experiences dictate it so.

I took in Obama's induction speech (if that's the correct term). He seemed to me, genuinely likeable, yet he spoke some things that are dreadfully flawed, indicating he is either duped by particular illusions or else is wilfully propogating them for his own purposes or else is slave to the system or to his political associates. Whichever way, I have no interest in participating in the charade. But given the charade is firmly entrenched in our society - I'm content that he's in and not another Bush.


5. If you had to sing a single line from a song to woo a woman you've never spoken to before, what would it be?

I have no interest in wooing any woman or anyone else for that matter. I'm firmly content in being entirely honest in my feelings and motives but here's a line from a song that I would gladly sing for anyone:

Imagine all the people sharing all the world.

You know which song.
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Okay, reader! Who would like to be interviewed? Drop your name in the comment section and I will forward you five questions!

Friday, October 09, 2009

What's happening?

I mentioned in my September 14th post, Re-Launch, that "things are happening." In no particular order, here are the reasons I sense I am at a critical crossroads:


1. Biodad announced that he is ready to quit smoking, and proposed that we make a pact. He'll give up the smokes. I'll give up eating like Jabba the Hut (and presumably, start looking less like him). We would rely on each other for inspiration - and in essence - police each other. I agreed in principal. The pact has yet to take effect but I believe it will and soon. Because the cold weather is coming - and there's no smoking allowed in the house, and the only thing biodad hates more than not smoking, is the cold. He's a skinny little runt. Cold is Kryptonite to this Supersmoker.



2. I have met an Imam - a Muslim spiritual leader. And he is keen to get together to speak with me. This is huge. Nothing ever boosted my writing capacity like my participation in a writing group did. The support; the affirmation; the grasping that you are not alone in your circumstance and your dreams. Very powerful.

But there are other ways now in which I am very alone. My perspectives on human life have grown so different from anyone around me that they are almost incommunicable and frankly, not to be believed. My resulting evolution now seems simple, obvious and unremarkable but yet it must seem remarkable because I look around and all the side-effects of my former circumstance - seemingly universal ills - are still being suffered by everyone around me. I see it in nearly every action; hear it in nearly every word. Who among them wants to believe that all their ills are merely the symptoms of mental, societal and instinctual disarray and can be shed as I have done (to perhaps a 99% degree). Who wants to believe I might hold the key? Certainly they don't. In some matters, only strangers might be trusted.

But I have long suspected that there are those who would understand me; priests and the like. Because, like me, they have a powerful source of wisdom/knowledge/testimony - call it what you will - in which they find all their answers, all their solutions; all their comfort - leaving them at peace; joyful; with no other aim but to help the less fortunate; to help them manifest the same freedom they themselves experience. And by a source, I mean, of course, their Bible, Koran, Gita or what not. Regardless the specifics or merits of any religious or philosophical program, we share the same paradigm; a consolidated body of knowledge which guides us unfailingly through any course.

This is what I yearn to talk about - with one who might understand. I've ducked into churches and into Hindu and Buddhist temples but nowhere was a man of the cloth available to me. Funny, it is a Muslim fellow who turns up; the last faith I would have expected to make company with, so widespread is the sad mistrust of their faith among so many voices in my community.


3. For many days I have meditated on the subject of lust, intimate love and specifically, the Illicit Sweetheart. By intimate love, I mean the singular directional kind - in which I've long mistrusted my capabilities and maturity. There are other forms of love in which I would seem vastly evolved but later for that!

In this intimate regard, I am pleased to now perceive that I have defeated the addictive components. I am at ease. Regardless what happens now between us - and how often - is no worry to me. It's rather clear to me now that physical intimacy is almost solely my motive for getting together. I do not mourn this. There is no shame. But I have done as honest an accounting as I can and am now free in this regard. Should further intimacy occur I will continue to enjoy it and if not, I will always cherish these last six years, and remain, as always, open to all forms of relationships, and all forms of loving, with all people, and without the conditions and restrictions of the society-standard marriage relationship. It was never meant for I, nor I for it.


With the lust addiction apparently behind me - and I say apparently because this state is new to me and not thoroughly tested as yet - there leaves one major battlefield at hand; food addiction. I pray I can gather all forces now to that front and defeat it too. To do so would pave the path to health and to the opportunity for vegetarianism or veganism and the harmonic rewards available to those who do not kill to live.




4. My cousin, World Citizen, has moved from India to Toronto and we'll be getting together very soon. I have high hopes for this meeting. India, Hinduism and the philosopher, Aurobindo are all of keen interest to me and my goals. I predict he will have many useful perspectives on these subjects as well as the experience in designing a life around charitable causes.



5. I'm back in the volunteer community. For now I'm working at a primary school to catalogue several hundred new books and get them into the hands of the kids. I've long been passionate about the benefits for kids who love to read. The effects can be profoundly life-altering. Upon that project's completion, I hope to be working on behalf of kids (or adults, for that matter) with, as they say, special needs. This is all very rewarding; a way to manifest harmony in an immediate way, whereas the writing endeavors are speculative; only seeds, in terms of their usefulness in serving harmony and evolution.


6. I seem to have summoned the will to part with my new 'job' with security at the college despite how much I love it. The people are great, the work rewarding, the opportunities to help people in need; to promote harmony. The exercise, the down-time with which to read and conduct my research, the company of students radiant with youthful vitality and possibility. It is a marvelous environment but I have reminded myself the purpose in going into security. I need that night watchman job where I can literally sit and write all night. It is necessary. I must make this happen. As excellent pal Doc Lock says: Onward!

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Song: One Lane Bridge

Idling on a one lane bridge
Unmindful of the race
I tripped upon your whisper
Dissolved in your embrace
And then you served me seconds
Though I only begged a taste
Now I wonder where I'd wandered
Had I never seen your face


Idling on a one lane bridge
Too weary for the chase
I contemplate the river
A path to some far place
And the shackles of my own design
That bind me to this base
While I wonder where I'd wandered
Had I never shared your space


And I won't say those words
And you will let me know


Is this structure solid
And does the river flow
Or is it me who's drifting
How can I really know


Idling on a one lane bridge
Just gazing into space
And the shadows on your features
The firelight displaced
This dire infatuation
Is anything but chaste
Still I wonder where I'd wandered
Had I never known your grace


And I won't say those words
And you will let me know


Is this structure solid
And does the river flow
Or is it me who's drifting
How can I really know


(instr.)


Is this structure solid
And does the river flow
Or is it we who're drifting
Who could really know


Idling on a one lane bridge
A crippling lack of haste
Won't serve to span the chasm
Revelation won't erase
Oh to find that golden land
And leave without a trace
To weave the light and darkness
And blanket this disgrace


And I won't fall in love with you
Unless you wish it so
And I won't say those words to you
Until you let me know


(Instr.)


And I won't say those words
And you will let me know

Monday, September 21, 2009

Just down the road

I have not seen my illicit sweetheart for many weeks. Since I Barbecued a fine dinner and we bobbed in an absent host's hot tub before reclining on the deck. I re-dressed of course but hid the other's clothing. I can be devilish that way.

We had planned to get together yesterday, finally. I phoned in the morning as instructed, left a message and endured long anticipation. Perhaps I have not evolved much, in the realm of love, since my first high-school infatuation. Perhaps not much at all.

The call was not returned until close to midnight.

"Hey! I'm just down the road from you! At [the friend's]!"

Drunk.

"Come on over! Bring some drinks. You have something to drink, no?"

So I had been forgotten about. Until the liquor ran dry. And why should that surprise? I'm not young. I'm not fun. I don't dance; not really. I am just the quiet stable one. Earnest and kind; generous; grateful; worshipful. Always there when needed but no party animal.

"No. I have no booze."

"You must have something! Bring it over. Come now. I won't be here long. I must go home soon!"

"Stop here, then, On your way home." I don't want to see you there, in front of others, where I'm forbidden to touch you.

"No. I can't. When I leave I'm going straight home."

"You could stop here for five minutes." Long enough for kisses and hugs. And wandering fingers on that bewitching youthful skin.

"No. I'm going straight home." Just like that.

That same old dark suspicion, rarely dragged into the light. Dare I say it - Am I being used? And then of course the still darker suspicion. Am I the user? What interest would I ever have taken if not for that gorgeous smile and gorgeous... everything else?
Using.

Making use of people. Isn't that the hallmark of society; our strength as a species? Leveraging one another? Cooperation, give and take, mutual parasitism. Such different connotations but might one propose they are different flavours of the same dish?

What might set such perspectives apart? Honesty, perhaps? To give and to take without false motive; without a rosy film; without posturing. Is that what makes it good and not evil? Makes it love and not... usage?

If so then what a hurdle. For honesty is a lovely idea but a phantom. The filters between instinct and consciousness are so hopelessly unnavigable and wickedly invisible and to know this is to ever mistrust myself.

If I'm to be disillusioned in this matter, let it be now! I might be happier to disengage from this infatuation; even more free.

If my love were 'true' perhaps I would have walked over there last night. But I did not go.

Perhaps the process has begun.



Monday, September 14, 2009

Re-launch!

Why the new look?

Because much has changed since January 2006 and I need the licence to reinvent this space's focus; it's priorities, in order to make it vital again.

Because I'm rarely inclined to wear the cynic's hat anymore and I don't have the heart to force it.

Because things are happening and the time has come to promote this space from it's catch-all status; a bottom drawer of a too-tall chest of writing outlets. It shall begin taking on the specific purposes intended for it for some time now.

Because I can not bear another moment of procrastination. There have always been excuses; doors just on the next horizon; but these will always be. To hell with them. No more tough talk without action. I will fight this war on every front and win or fail and account it honestly. And to those who call yourself my friend, be true by judging me harshly. Kind excuses are no help to me in the long run.

Because I am a new day rising and so are you.


Do or do not. There is no try.
- Yoda (film: The Empire Strikes Back)

Don't you see you are the Universe to yourself. You carry your fortunes in your own hand.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Become the man you were born to be.
- Lord Elrond (Lord of the Rings, J R R Tolkien)

Shit or get off the pot.
- Crazy Bernie

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Not the Steve-o

Random quotes, without context, recently spoken (or sang) in my presence:



I always prefer the Bob Dylan performances where he remembers to bring his consonants.

I bet she's got a nice little toaster oven.


I sleep good. I have one-two beers and sleep like monkey.


Oh, I like the usual girl things. Hop scotch, dress-up dolls. Getting my patch pounded every Friday night.


Incense peckermints la la la la. Incense peckermints la la la la.


I like to start my day with the newspaper and a bowl of bran flakes. Then I spend the rest of the day just hoping for a good BM.


Beauty is only skin deep. Ugly goes right to the bone.



Oh no! My moustache is on the floor and it's running away!


What a country eh? Where even the poor can be decadent.


Royal Meats? What kind of place is that? Ah, yes I'll have the Prince Andrew on toast please. But leave out the stringy bits.

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This article brought to you by the Matt LeBlanc Anti-Virus Society.


Hi, this is Matt Leblanc reminding you to cover and cough. Don't let the godless Russians - I mean - flu virus - destroy the human race.

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

More fun things about being a security guard

1. Working with a crew who prefers to use nicknames rather than real names. My co-workers:

Big Bill
Little Bill
Big John
Little John
Striker
No-Ass
Brain
Stan-the-Man
Killer
Frodo
Alphabet
Baloo


2. Conversations with clever teenagers, like this:

"How many did you give out today?"

"How many what?"

"Tickets."

"I don't give out tickets."

"You don't give out parking tickets?"

"Nope."

"But you're security. What are you doing out here, then?"

"I'm making sure everyone is having a safe and happy day."

"Well - I'm not happy!"

"Okay. I'll put that in my report."


3. Attacks by the Phantom Dumper

Squad Leader was eating her salad while we followed the intruder via surveillance camera when the intruder suddenly dropped his pants, squatted on the sidewalk and... did... his... business.
The remaining salad went uneaten.

Please enjoy this totally unrelated complimentary photo of melted chocolate ice cream:


Thursday, July 30, 2009

Summer is for kids and kids-at-heart.

The ever excellent Fumadiddle has published the following advice: 20 things to do this summer to be a kid again. I support it whole-heartedly but I must add some clarifications:

1. Catch lightning bugs.
Is that the same thing as fireflies?

2. Play hopscotch.
Sounds like a recipe for broken ankles. Can I just draw chalk pictures in public places instead?

3. Chase down the ice cream truck.
Did that once. Turned out to be a knife-sharpener guy instead. Luckily I had a knife on me. I hadn't been planning to pay for the ice cream, you see.

4. Blow soap bubbles.
Saw him the other day. He says Hi.

5. Hula hoop.
Not a chance in hell.

6. Swing.
I've heard about those parties. No thanks.

7. Have friends over to play hide and go seek.
We thought Ollie was a welfare case. Turns out that "Ollie-Ollie income-free" was supposed to be "All ye, all ye in, come free."

8. Cloud watch.
Ah, yes. And try it at night too. Especially if there's snow on the ground and a fullish moon.

9. Camp out in the back yard.
Best done a couple yards away from another batch of campers. Launch crab apples at them all night. Great fun.

10. Jump off a rope swing over a river.
We call that water skiing now.

11. Play in the sprinkler.
That's what Mom always said when declining a request to go swimming, which always infuriated me but in hindsight, it was better than "Go play in traffic" I suppose.

12. Have a mud fight.
Might eating a Mile-High Mud Pie dessert count?

13. Build an indoor fort with chairs and sheets.
Add a couple card tables for a fort-mansion.

14. Eat watermelon on the back porch and spit the seeds.
The goal is to land them in your friend’s hair, of course.

15. Have a water balloon or squirt gun war.
Have you seen the weapons of watery mass destruction they manufacture these days?

16. Climb a tree.
My childhood climbing-tree finally got cut down in the last year. There can never be another.

17. Skip stones.
And hold hands. And get an old gold Chevy and a place of your own.

18. Go wading in a creek.
Does the hot tub count?

19. Create a masterpiece with sidewalk chalk.
I see the end of the list is coming and you haven’t yet said, clip a hockey card to your spokes to make your bike a motorbike. I guess that was strictly a boy thing.

20. Laugh until your sides hurt.
That's why I visit your blog, Flumadiddle.

Star Drek

I'm watching Star Trek, the original motion picture. It's hard to believe I've actually avoided this for a full thirty years.

So far, every male in this movie is wearing a toupee.

And everyone in Star Fleet wears a miniature money belt around their abdomens. The lengths they went to just to disguise Shatner's girdle...

Every external shot has an immobile space-suited guy floating around.

Everyone's over-acting a little bit. It's like every element of wardrobe and direction is designed to mask Shatner's idiosyncrasies.

Kirk: "I need you! Dammit Bones! I need you! Badly!"

Wow! Love the engineering crew uniforms. They're Imperial Storm Trooper suits with giant Reese's peanut butter cup wrappers for collars.

Spock in black cape is looking more Dracula-ish than ever.

McCoy has yet to report to sick bay. He's apparently been promoted to Kirk's personal therapist and follows him everywhere he goes, telling him off.

Spock: "I suspect there is an object at the centre of that cloud." Well, I'm no Vulcan brainiac but I concur, Sherlock. We wouldn't have a movie,otherwise.

Checkov burns his hand and falls down wailing as if his genitals have been cut off. Oddly, McCoy is finally absent.

Well, lo and behold. An object at the centre of the giant cloud.

Uh oh. Intruder on board. A plasma-energy combination according to Spock.

The security guy in helmet and cockpiece does nothing to protect the officers while the plasma guy goes around zapping them. That's right. I said cockpiece.

Spock: "I believe the closed orifice leads to another chamber."

Return of the bald girl; starkers, apparently. Does the carpet match the drapes?

"Within you," says the usurped commander, Decker to bald girl, "Are the memory patterns of a certain carbon unit. I can help you to revive those patterns! Then you could understand our functions better!" Boom chickka wow-wow. Best pick-up line ever.

Okay they've taken the old Spock Dilemma - that absurd simple-minded notion that logic and emotion are somehow two ends of a single scale - and extended it to this omnipotent space-predator VGER and his hunt for the creator. He's Pinocchio and Zardoz rolled into one.

VGER, Decker and bald girl have a space orgy and VGER has his first space-orgasm (talk about shooting stars) which leaves him fulfilled and no longer interested in purging Earth of its carbon units. Mankind lives another day. Hoo Haw.

I have now seen two of the eleven Star Trek movies; the first and last. They're pretty silly but I'm game to continue. Perhaps you'll join me next time for Wrath of Khan.

Live long and prosper,
FWG
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