[obsolescence: op-ed]
Thursday, February 08, 2007
we make a pair of parentheses
The night after the day they were woken from their ancient sleep, we drifted off in a present-day mirror of their last embrace.

You slept peacefully, nude; as I watched you watching your neurons fire and eyelids flutter I couldn't help but think of those two.

And the two of us, and all of our time.

And that nagging question in the back of our minds.

Where will you be when it happens?

The gears stop turning, the phone stops ringing, the snow stops falling.
The moment when the clock stops, the lights go off, when lines mean nothing - borders even less - and we all put our boots on and walk out of our cities.

There is nothing greater we as a generation can do than face our fear and our future in the eye and fight for our survival. Unknown, untapped resevoirs of bravery must be summoned to live with our plight.

I can't help but return to the two neolithic lovers... In the moment when all hope is lost they turn their backs to the world and say bravery is not found through meeting the eye of the executioner but is found in the eyes of love.

And I try to summon that courage.

Happy early Valentines Day to all with the courage in their hearts to fight the future.
More on the skeletons here.
Saturday, February 03, 2007

(please click image to embigen)

I love everyone who comes, but if you don't come, it doesn't mean I don't love you. It just means you're a bad friend or have another commitment.

There really is no need to RSVP, but if you want to it'd be nice... Do it in the comments section or to my email, or call Julia or Dayn or myself.

Bring whoever if they're cool, and BYOB.

Fun for all.
Monday, September 11, 2006
nobody brought cake though
Last night was the extremely successful "2nd Annual 518 Party Formerly Known as the September 11th Party". We really turned our apartment around and have it configured as a properly rockin' pad now (for evidence, please come by), and we decided to open it up.

Jules and I and our new roomie Dayn were outstanding hosts.

Scotty was here to make his last stand before returning to Scotland for another school year. He is seen here sporting his almost-five-months-late custom polo shirt birthday gift from yours truly. Lookin' sharp.

Junior was there, too.

He was actually the first one to show up at like, 8:30, sweating like a man 'cause he just fucking flew here on his skateboard. Although I sort of knew Junior from the blogosphere, I had never met him in person before. It was an event we were both eagerly anticipating. He walked up the stairs into the apartment and Julia greeted him thusly:
"Who are you?"

518 Alumnus Victoria Baltuis made it down from Waterpoo for the event. Victoria lived with us for a couple months last year, before Natty, after the little living room. Dayn just moved into her old room a few days ago.

Warren and Zorana came and got fucking loaded. Diana's friend Vicki was not exactly un-loaded herself.

Starla and Thanh were super pooped from V-Fest all day but they came out for a bit anyway. Kyle was working on two beers but the guy is such a pro two beers is like drinking baby spit for him. Dude gets his trainer to punch him in the face while he's doing situps. Apparently it makes it like, ten times more intense.

Kyle also brought my favourite motherfucker ever, Max! Kyle said that Max told him he "wanted to get fucking wasted" so Kyle had to bring him along! Max is literally a party animal. He licked a lot and ran around a lot. That sketchy little asian guy was really afraid of him.

Sarah Henning graced us with her presence.

Jess and Michelle.


It's true, why else would it be on his shirt?

If you've ever had a conversation with Jess, you'll understand what I'm feeling here. And here.

Uh-Oh! Julia got on that thing! Around 12 people pointed and yelled GET OFF THAT THING! I almost cried.

Lana took Calvin and I into the little vanity half-bahroom and had her way with us.

This is what everything started to look like as the night wore on.

Check this out! We tried to look sober and upright for an old-times'-sake kind of nostalgia session. I think Lana has a less-blurry version of this pic. Still heartwarming though.

We kept it going until almost seven in the morning. A couple rounds of disoriented Scattergories and a GET OFF THAT THING! excursion brought us to sunrise.

I woke up to find Junior sleeping in the hallway.

And this invitation on my sunscreen bottle. Mark your calendars now!
Thursday, August 31, 2006

I love everyone who comes, but if you don't come, it doesn't mean I don't love you. It just means you're a bad friend or have another commitment.

There really is no need to RSVP, but if you want to it'd be nice... Do it in the comments section or to my email, or call Julia or Dayn or myself.

Bring whoever if they're cool, and BYOB.

Fun for all.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
NEIGHBOUR JIM: Sam? Please, take a seat. We're all here to talk to you about a problem we think you have, that we want to help you with.

SAM: Wha-? This is crazy I don't have a problem-

FRIEND STEVE: It's the Oil, Sam. It's tearing you apart. You're addicted.

NEIGHBOUR JIM: You need to stop. You're using way too much. Every day you're using using using. Some days you just get up and use and sit around all day, completely ignorant of reality.

SAM: That's not true at all, I'm completely fine... Oh, Barbara, not you too!?

BARBARA WIFE: Yes honey, we all agree. It's made you sick - you can hardly breathe; you never exercise and you're getting fat, and... you never have the energy or desire to be intimate with me anymore. All you seem to care about is using Oil and how you're going to get your daily fix.

SAM: Ahhh I can't take this I need some Oil now... where is it...

NEIGHBOUR JIM: You won't find any in your usual stash, Sam. Jesus Christ man, in the garage? Right next to your kids bikes? Right there for them to see what their old man's become? What, did you want your little Chad and Rosie to be like their dad, and get addicted to Oil too? What kind of a message are you sending them, Sam?

ELLEN NEIGHBOUR: And it's eating away at your money Sam. Barbara showed Jim and I your finacial situation. You're very in debt. You've got to kick the Oil. You're spending away your children's future.

YOUR LITTLE CHAD AND ROSIE: Please don't spend away our future. You don't need Oil. We love you without the Oil.

SAM: Oh, Kids... No, I want to, stop, but... I need it. Just a little bit. One last time.

NEIGHBOUR JIM: No, Sam. No more oil.

SAM: Where is it? What did you do with my Oil? I'm getting angry...

FRIEND STEVE: Stay calm, Sam... don't do anything you might regret-

SAM: Don't make me hurt someone! I'll do it! I'll do it!
Monday, June 12, 2006
stink finger
Maybe I'll talk about something... now.

How about that dang trrrrrrism everyone's talking about?
Yeah, that's a popular thing to talk about.

I think very reasonably that these are just some angry kids. We were/are all angry at something around that age in our lives. We targeted our hypothetical lashing out at things that were culturally familiar to us as evil or wrong or in our view, ethically negative. We got angry at presidents, pollution and popular music. It wasn't an influential or even common strain of thought in our socia environment to despise or carry anger towards America the Great Satan, World Bank credit slavery, or Western culture altogether. Not to say for certain that the feelings of these kids in this terrorism situation even extended to that level.

As the world leaves the print age of linearity and enters the electric paradigm of simultaneity, tribalism re-emerges in a big way as a prominent method of social orgainzation. It is primitive but it is infectious and effective, and it is most importantly extremely subtle and covert while nurturing devotion in its members. A great example of the new tribalism is profesisonal sports fans. They grow fiercely aligned and dedicated to their team and draw battle ligns before the fans of their enemies. Fashion and music and pretty much a whole lot of other things are expressions of tribalism.

In a tribal environment, ideologies are very efficiently cultivated; minimization of other influencing forces accellerates this process even more. This is what happened. A couple of guys at the local whatever were circulating some ideas and laying down informed arguments and so some malleable young people got swept up in the anger and romance of it. I can see how it could happen. They took them to play freaking paintball! Awesome! Kind of like when you started doing drugs, hating jocks, being religious/atheistic or stopped eating meat or shopping at the GAP.

I agree with what seems to be the consensus out there, at least from the discussion on Tristan's and Calvin's blogs. There's probably one or two older guys in there who are, if not active extremists, then at least pretty deep into this dangerous dialogue the world is having with America. Maybe it's a kind of intervention on some level.

At any rate it could have been you in their place so I guess be thankful you've been taught to hate corporations and cell-phone plans and way-the-fuck-too-much-packaging and NASCAR and the Yankees.

Hate the Yankees, love fear.
Monday, June 05, 2006
do this!
This is a challenge to everyone.

A list of any amount of anything that gives you enjoyment/pleasure/comfort/positivity/anything.
In no particular order.

Construct it. Post it. It's not about one-upmanship. Just do it.

Here's mine so far:

Bob Dylan
kielbassa sausage
roasted salted almonds
Sneaky Dee's
Tylenol Ultra Relief
Douglas Coupland
communication/media theory
five star 3 1/2" x 5" notebook
orgasms given and received
Raphael (the turtle, natch)
road-trip music
refined & limited personal style
the perfect pair
Lee's Palace
right gift for the right person
hot-air popcorn popper

Let's hear yours. This is easy. It's like a free post.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
"awake from your slumber baby; it's gonna start"
It’s the city. It’s the dream. It’s all about the end of the world.

The dream always comes. We spread out our picnic on the arcing arm of the 427 reaching over and down to the gardiner, the long, straight artery stretching into the heart of the empty city.

That feeling, when grew wings made of soaring guitar solos on a highway in the sky over the city of lights. We fucking blasted off. We could have been the ones to explode at Cape Canaveral. We could have been huge. Who am I kidding, we had the same faulty seals in our solid fuel boosters; we exploded, we were glorious. We were huge.

And the slow motion walk towards the camera, as the building I’ve just exited buckles and explodes… The wind from the explosion flutters my hair and my unbuttoned shirt. I flick away the best cigarette I’ve ever smoked. My skin glistens with sweat and grime and the sun glints off my sunglasses. Credits roll.

We were born in cellophane and excess packaging. Predestined to receive the mass message of collective individuality. Memories sold separately.


Are you that someone whose eyes I can look into for a long time, without you looking away or commenting on it or anything? Someone who’ll just let me stare deep into them with my hand on their cheek… and let everything I want to feel and say just fall out of me and float in the space between us?