Friday, December 24, 2004
On Making Love
~
Since a meal or a drink will continue to be the hallmark of civil relations, each time we both approach the dying mammoth and mutually feed off of it, without killing each other, the civilization gets another little gold star.
S*
2004.12.24 04:54
Since a meal or a drink will continue to be the hallmark of civil relations, each time we both approach the dying mammoth and mutually feed off of it, without killing each other, the civilization gets another little gold star.
S*
2004.12.24 04:54
Sunday, December 12, 2004
"And we go sailing down and down white waters..."
~
French-Canadian middle-aged men who are addictive gamblers spend their lives seeking and trying to make up the lost approval of their elementary school math teachers. La croche évolution du draveur.
S*
2004.12.22
French-Canadian middle-aged men who are addictive gamblers spend their lives seeking and trying to make up the lost approval of their elementary school math teachers. La croche évolution du draveur.
S*
2004.12.22
P Fucking S*
~
Here it is: I'm calling it now, before any pundits and idiots try to measure it by copying. Two-thousand-twelve, Schwartzenneger and Condi Rice (as VP) versus Hilary R. Clinton and Oprah (as VP). You heard it here first. Place your bets.
It's calling something like this that makes wearing titanium look good. Where're your space modules now, 1986? We made your intergalactic pod; it fits in our hand.
Thank you.
S*
2004.12.12 03:40
Here it is: I'm calling it now, before any pundits and idiots try to measure it by copying. Two-thousand-twelve, Schwartzenneger and Condi Rice (as VP) versus Hilary R. Clinton and Oprah (as VP). You heard it here first. Place your bets.
It's calling something like this that makes wearing titanium look good. Where're your space modules now, 1986? We made your intergalactic pod; it fits in our hand.
Thank you.
S*
2004.12.12 03:40
Free Kittens
~
I have so much to tell you. Reverse culture shock was settling in hard in Vancouver, but I plugged back into a low-key, sketchy bar/hostel and slowly slid back into the idea of being home, regardless of the fact that I'd heard three people speaking Korean on Robson that very same day. Chugging was oddly reminicent of college too. Youth are great people. They're the new owners of the Acropolis as we slowly branch out into the world in anticipation of their soon-rising arrival. In turn, they too will watch a generation or a people distancing themselves in a stationary way.
See, I've learned that life is completely pivotal and everything always comes around the bend right in time to make absolute and total sense. Giving myself to the whim of the great magnet (to overuse one of my favourite movie lines) has magnificiently changed my life. I'm less bored, I'm happier, I'm breathing smart ideas and clever style with nothing but progress, progress, progress with mags on, burning rubber down the L.A. Expressway of our minds. This is the best time to be alive because we're the pinnacle of everything, until now. But the problem we've got going on now is that we're still in a decade that's concentrating on production technique than actual production results: computers are (apparently) getting 'bettter', but we still don't have a cure for cancer (or so the analogy goes as told by this technocrat). As such, our societal values are molding at a razor-high speed as we want more and more ways to render simpler the tasks we've done a million times. We require a remote for everything in our lives. We plug into televisions for news; why do people not trust their ears anymore? Because most lies are verbal? I don't know.
Plugging back in is tremendous. Some things surface in heavy doses, but you swallow those pills the best way you know and surprisingly, you always get through them. Occasionally there are snags -- the bottom of relationships might get wet and become torn as a result of neglect, for example. Food is amazing too: senses are all shapes of memories whose outlines are drawn in pencil in my mind. They weren't always that way because they were once rich and vivid and very active memories; sadly, some things get relegated to outline status in a sketchbook. Going out to the places I used to frequent is like being in a colouring book inside my head, filling in all the outlines of things I've always known. Life is like that too: we are born knowing everything about the magnificence of this Universe and so little of our intellect is swept of the grey film that naturally covers so many incredible outlines just waiting to be filled in -- the fog of life is like the fog of war. And the best part is that those will all be independent pieces of our lives -- sometimes we will colour two pictures or even three at the same time, but we'll manage more and more and even more as our life progresses. That's why some older people are bummers. It's because they've spent so much time colouring really bad scenery with cheap crayons. The result is that their minds couldn't be bothered to see anything more fantastic than the mediocrity they've always known. They've dulled to loving sharpness. To boot, they're older so they don't have to listen to anyone's opinion, so they never get better. Odd people.
But, as aging and progress go, the development of writing is very cool. The emergence of patoi or colloquialism or pigeon is also very cool; uses of the former in an unusual context are possibly the most magical transportation tools for ideas, symbols and connection available to this species. Having said this: we must each endeavour to spread some iota of knowledge at all times, as well as expose ourselves to several sources of knowledge constantly, be they human or of the Natural World. Also, we must propogate our role as new parents of this age and let our offspring share their answers. They're new and young now, before you know it, they're swinging high with both opposable thumbs pointed upward.
Also, read this book: "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time" by Mark Haddon.
Best,
S*
2004.12.12 03:18
I have so much to tell you. Reverse culture shock was settling in hard in Vancouver, but I plugged back into a low-key, sketchy bar/hostel and slowly slid back into the idea of being home, regardless of the fact that I'd heard three people speaking Korean on Robson that very same day. Chugging was oddly reminicent of college too. Youth are great people. They're the new owners of the Acropolis as we slowly branch out into the world in anticipation of their soon-rising arrival. In turn, they too will watch a generation or a people distancing themselves in a stationary way.
See, I've learned that life is completely pivotal and everything always comes around the bend right in time to make absolute and total sense. Giving myself to the whim of the great magnet (to overuse one of my favourite movie lines) has magnificiently changed my life. I'm less bored, I'm happier, I'm breathing smart ideas and clever style with nothing but progress, progress, progress with mags on, burning rubber down the L.A. Expressway of our minds. This is the best time to be alive because we're the pinnacle of everything, until now. But the problem we've got going on now is that we're still in a decade that's concentrating on production technique than actual production results: computers are (apparently) getting 'bettter', but we still don't have a cure for cancer (or so the analogy goes as told by this technocrat). As such, our societal values are molding at a razor-high speed as we want more and more ways to render simpler the tasks we've done a million times. We require a remote for everything in our lives. We plug into televisions for news; why do people not trust their ears anymore? Because most lies are verbal? I don't know.
Plugging back in is tremendous. Some things surface in heavy doses, but you swallow those pills the best way you know and surprisingly, you always get through them. Occasionally there are snags -- the bottom of relationships might get wet and become torn as a result of neglect, for example. Food is amazing too: senses are all shapes of memories whose outlines are drawn in pencil in my mind. They weren't always that way because they were once rich and vivid and very active memories; sadly, some things get relegated to outline status in a sketchbook. Going out to the places I used to frequent is like being in a colouring book inside my head, filling in all the outlines of things I've always known. Life is like that too: we are born knowing everything about the magnificence of this Universe and so little of our intellect is swept of the grey film that naturally covers so many incredible outlines just waiting to be filled in -- the fog of life is like the fog of war. And the best part is that those will all be independent pieces of our lives -- sometimes we will colour two pictures or even three at the same time, but we'll manage more and more and even more as our life progresses. That's why some older people are bummers. It's because they've spent so much time colouring really bad scenery with cheap crayons. The result is that their minds couldn't be bothered to see anything more fantastic than the mediocrity they've always known. They've dulled to loving sharpness. To boot, they're older so they don't have to listen to anyone's opinion, so they never get better. Odd people.
But, as aging and progress go, the development of writing is very cool. The emergence of patoi or colloquialism or pigeon is also very cool; uses of the former in an unusual context are possibly the most magical transportation tools for ideas, symbols and connection available to this species. Having said this: we must each endeavour to spread some iota of knowledge at all times, as well as expose ourselves to several sources of knowledge constantly, be they human or of the Natural World. Also, we must propogate our role as new parents of this age and let our offspring share their answers. They're new and young now, before you know it, they're swinging high with both opposable thumbs pointed upward.
Also, read this book: "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time" by Mark Haddon.
Best,
S*
2004.12.12 03:18
Monday, December 06, 2004
The Nomad
~
Maybe the journey is the best part of each destination, but the processes not always as nice. More and more, nomadism is a hard rhythm to digest.
Between capitals and destinations, through customs and food courts, airline check-ins and coffee line-ups, I watch untrimmed moustaches and oversize luggage board the skies to somewhere. Names get called, items get tagged, articles are searched in a pattern that repeats day after day after day. A globalized world has spawned mini-worlds on our cities' fringes: universes of the coming and going. Where a quirky mix of the over- and under-paid trail their lives in wheeled cubes while the aged ably man the question-marked front lines.
For once, this new world might not be a bad one after all.
From each city, we find a location with its own rhythm and pace and space particularly defined by the surrounding consumables -- mountains, rain, big skies, everywhere neon, lapping waves, smiles, spices, smoke, sand or towering flowers. Herein these new worldly halls, the global community is assembled to understand itself: as we chair our very own committee of travelers, knowers, lovers, doers and dreamers. Our knowing is our tool...may we use it smartly.
S*
2004.12.06 14:53
Maybe the journey is the best part of each destination, but the processes not always as nice. More and more, nomadism is a hard rhythm to digest.
Between capitals and destinations, through customs and food courts, airline check-ins and coffee line-ups, I watch untrimmed moustaches and oversize luggage board the skies to somewhere. Names get called, items get tagged, articles are searched in a pattern that repeats day after day after day. A globalized world has spawned mini-worlds on our cities' fringes: universes of the coming and going. Where a quirky mix of the over- and under-paid trail their lives in wheeled cubes while the aged ably man the question-marked front lines.
For once, this new world might not be a bad one after all.
From each city, we find a location with its own rhythm and pace and space particularly defined by the surrounding consumables -- mountains, rain, big skies, everywhere neon, lapping waves, smiles, spices, smoke, sand or towering flowers. Herein these new worldly halls, the global community is assembled to understand itself: as we chair our very own committee of travelers, knowers, lovers, doers and dreamers. Our knowing is our tool...may we use it smartly.
S*
2004.12.06 14:53
