After a weekend chalk-full of adventure and partying, as well as catching up with old friends, spending quality time with my significant other, and talking philosophy with a best friend of mine who is positioned, at the moment, to cause a musical revolution in the cultured city of Victoria, I have finally crossed the Georgia Strait to start my new life in the Lower Mainland; in a part of Greater Vancouver known as Port Coquitlam, to be exact.
Crossing the threshold of change upon my own volition, I forecasted what I felt would be inevitable phases of emotional tempestuousness as a result of the massive personal 'revolution.' And although I was correct in assuming said tempestuousness would occur, I overestimated it by quite a long shot as I have yet to truly cry over the end of my old life and the beginning of my new one. Tears have come to my eyes due to missing my family and friends back up in my hometown, as well as my hometown itself, but in a general sense, I haven't felt the compulsion to ball my eyes out like I expected I would; however, if the compulsion does overtake me, I won't attempt to resist it.
I have felt the toll that such a drastic alteration has had on my mind, body, and soul... such as a feeling of alienation mixed with awe as I walk the streets of my new hometown, aware of the fact that I know only a couple people in the city's entirety.
To be honest, one of my new homes greatest merits in my mind is its generally close proximity to Downtown Vancouver. Had I the money and the ample freedom of choice in the matter, I would probably opt to live directly Downtown where all the big events occur, simply for the sake of being in the thick of it all... but being a recent graduate who is unemployed and not attending any post secondary institutions, boarding with a friend and his mom in outer suburbia was certainly the more realistic and, in some ways, more idealistic choice.
I have yet to check out Occupy Vancouver or any other such stirrings of revolutionary fervor in my general vicinity, but I'm looking forward to the coming adventure in doing so (however, I am hovering as a result of the issue of, "should I get a job before I start exploring? Or would exploring, perhaps, assist in finding a job? Or does it matter? In a general sense, I would just like to explore for the sake of exploring, but perhaps exploring will indirectly assist my job search regardless.") Vancouver is the magnetic force that is drawing me towards it, and I look forward to finally allowing said force to pull me in.
Port Coquitlam, as well as its sister-city of Coquitlam, are both generally well designed places, but the overwhelming consumerist vibe mixed with the suburban lifestyle really has been dragging me down in some aspects; billboards plague highways, shopping centers and strip malls jam the currently flawed economic construct down our throats, and many people seem strange and distant, not to mention jaded and seemingly desensitized and unsatisfied with their lives as they are, and submit to consumer society and free-market economics as the overarching and absolute truths in life that are unalterable and must be appealed to before anything else is possible, placing a great emphasis on the supposed omnipotence and authoritarianism of finances.
I think that's one big reason that Vancouver seems to be drawing me towards it more-so than the Coquitlam area, where any potential for culture has been hijacked by the overwhelming power of corporate agendas and Western consumerism, as opposed to Vancouver where the consumerist aspects do most certainly exist, but the city's beautifully diverse culture controls it and contains it; not the other way around.
I'm going to look in on getting involved with the slam poetry and underground rap scene down here and see where that gets me in the way of opportunities and meeting new people.
Adventure is here, and greater adventure is hurtling my way.
Look out, Vancouver.
Here I come.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Inside my Mind.
Innocently enough, I found the kerfuffle of fluff bunched up in my knuckles because,
I never punch an innocent man twice.
Now take the spice out of the words, 'Hey, I'm a nice guy,'
And you'll have a half-truth that will trick yet still suffice;
I test my pick-up lines on mice and rats like the most esteemed of scientists,
Who engineered the difference between maize and rice using language as their disguise
I languish in this life.
I deal too much in the technical's and it leads to awkward strife,
Inside my mind.
I notice the fact that I think,
And watch the fact that I see,
And, for some reason, become ungrateful that my site
Isn't 360 degrees.
It is in my dreams.
I also seem to ask myself the question far too often;
"Are you sure you're living yet? Are you sure you're alive yet?"
Because I seem to forget that yet implies before and after;
And I stave off the potential for my mind to become some sort of existential disaster;
Nothing has changed about me biologically for 3 or so years,
Yet with the constant bombardment of scientific, philosophical, and existential food for thought
I seem to notice now
More than ever
My mortality.
And it's not just my mortality,
I ask, "What IS reality?"
And the slight lack of focus in my eyes makes me ask in framed legality,
"What is this actuality?"
And I lose sight that all humanity
Serves the same such similar circumstances,
With the 5 senses imperfections
And I'm sure that most of us are quite insane.
Please, don't abstain from braving existential terrain,
It will help you to obtain
The fact
That life is such a mystery,
And it's best to work with mystery,
In transcendental synergy,
Because suddenly humanity
Is null and void.
I write this true to mind:
These are the thoughts that float through mine,
And keep me sleepless time-to-time
Or keep me feeling like I'm sleeping,
As the thoughts keep me confined
On occasion.
Yet sometimes I do awaken
And feel myself a direct part of the reality I've forsaken,
Over-thinking,
With the labels that our minds have been creating,
Since the dawn of humankind and man-made time.
I never punch an innocent man twice.
Now take the spice out of the words, 'Hey, I'm a nice guy,'
And you'll have a half-truth that will trick yet still suffice;
I test my pick-up lines on mice and rats like the most esteemed of scientists,
Who engineered the difference between maize and rice using language as their disguise
I languish in this life.
I deal too much in the technical's and it leads to awkward strife,
Inside my mind.
I notice the fact that I think,
And watch the fact that I see,
And, for some reason, become ungrateful that my site
Isn't 360 degrees.
It is in my dreams.
I also seem to ask myself the question far too often;
"Are you sure you're living yet? Are you sure you're alive yet?"
Because I seem to forget that yet implies before and after;
And I stave off the potential for my mind to become some sort of existential disaster;
Nothing has changed about me biologically for 3 or so years,
Yet with the constant bombardment of scientific, philosophical, and existential food for thought
I seem to notice now
More than ever
My mortality.
And it's not just my mortality,
I ask, "What IS reality?"
And the slight lack of focus in my eyes makes me ask in framed legality,
"What is this actuality?"
And I lose sight that all humanity
Serves the same such similar circumstances,
With the 5 senses imperfections
And I'm sure that most of us are quite insane.
Please, don't abstain from braving existential terrain,
It will help you to obtain
The fact
That life is such a mystery,
And it's best to work with mystery,
In transcendental synergy,
Because suddenly humanity
Is null and void.
I write this true to mind:
These are the thoughts that float through mine,
And keep me sleepless time-to-time
Or keep me feeling like I'm sleeping,
As the thoughts keep me confined
On occasion.
Yet sometimes I do awaken
And feel myself a direct part of the reality I've forsaken,
Over-thinking,
With the labels that our minds have been creating,
Since the dawn of humankind and man-made time.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Truth About Astrology
When it comes to astrology, you are only a Gemini, Libra, Scorpio, or Taurus if you truly believe you are, and subconsciously decide to emulate the vague traits outlined in astrological theory. It works in the same way that being a Christian causes you to act like a 'good Christian,' or being Islamic causes you to act like a 'good Muslim,' based on the vague (or, perhaps, strict and specific) outline provided by books like the Qua'ran or the Bible. You subconsciously become what you believe in. And trust me... some things are simply not true. Astrology, although I don't enjoy condemning certain fields of thought and study, is an interesting charade that fits into the famous lines of the former Nazi propoganda minister Joseph Goebbels: “A lie repeated a thousand times becomes a truth."
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Occupy Wall Street and the Growing OWS Movement
Incited, whether directly or indirectly, by the Vancouver-based dissident magazine AdBusters, The Occupy Wall Street movement is picking-up pace on an near-revolutionary scale across the entire continent.
Many right-wing financiers and commentators simply look at the collective uprising as an example of left-wing 'mob mentality;'the hypotheses that such a collectivist mentality could exist in some 'terrible' form being discovered by yours truly during an outing at the local Coles bookstore, in which I came across Ann Coulter's book, "Demonic: How the Liberal Mob is Endangering America."
As I flipped through Demonic, all I could draw parallels to was the feeling of 'how the fuck could anyone actually believe this bullshit?' that I got from flipping through the first few pages of Benito Mussolini's The Fascist Doctrine. Were I a notable figure in political affairs, right-wing commentators would already be shutting me down saying, "Look at this left-wing nut-bar. He's using one of the oldest tricks in the book! Comparing the right to fascists and Nazism and all that historical stuff. This young man is obviously a threat to our societal fabric and all his valid points from here on in are now rendered invalid and unimportant due to this single thing we caught him saying which we will now hang over his politically-attuned head like a guillotine to his credibility... and if he tries to get in our way one more time, we will sell his story to Glen Beck so that intellectual genius can tear him to bits with his infallible logic."
And I would watch this with both a deep humor regarding these peoples willfully ignorant and blatantly arrogant viewpoints and decide they have no true intellectual credibility, and that the fact that they're serious only makes it all the more hilarious... but that humor would also wallow alongside a feeling of deep anger and fear at the fact that such absolute idiots have such a stranglehold on not only North America, but the human race at large.
Eric Cantor, the Republican Majority Leader in the House of Representatives, in speaking against the OWS movement said: "I for one am increasingly concerned about the growing mobs occupying Wall Street and the other cities across the country. Believe it or not, some in this town have actually condoned the pitting of Americans against Americans."
Boy oh boy oh boy! You know someone is a self-serving politician if their entire address, whether consciously or not, seems to miss the entire context of the movement itself. And calling it a 'mob'... it's the same polarizing tactic used to marginalize and ostracize anyone who supports the welfare-state or other socialistic practices when they're simply labelled as 'communists.' When right-wing politicians call someone or something 'communist,' they are deliberately appealing to the lowest common denominator of the population that has never studied communism and only knows, at best, its context in American history as the 'Red scare' or the 'Soviet menace.' That invisible enemy that almost killed us that one time, which must mean everything about them was nothing but pure evil.
One small step up from the lowest common denominator, however, is the half-baked pseudo-intellectual who, when they hear that someone or something is 'communist,' remembers nothing but the atrocities committed under Joseph Stalin or Mao Zedong. This condemns their stupefied face-value interpretation to forever see whatever was labelled as 'communist' as potential mass-murderers who are simply looking to install an evil totalitarian regime. They don't understand the true definition of either communism or socialism; and that's exactly the way they want it. They simply want their ignorant followers to view those is opposition to the right in the way the right is viewed by everyone else due to what they have actually done to deserve such an image.
When the right labels a legitimate protest that is against its best interests as a 'mob,' it hopes to incite memories of the Salem which-hunts, the Detroit riots, and simply the Judaeo-Christian interpretation of an 'angry mob carrying pitch-forks and torches, ready to rape, pillage, and murder until their desires are met.' It's these mass-generalizations that keep the right as powerful as it is. Without such loose-terms and assumptive measures, the clearer, truer, and more specific definitions of what's occurring would show themselves and the right would immediately be discredited as self-serving and simply stupid.
It's this arrogance and stubborn idiocy that turned democracy into nothing but a symbolic charade of corporate tools either working for the financiers and self-proclaimed 'elites,' or required to work-around their maze of control in order to attempt to contribute to the common good without reducing or eliminating the current profit that's being made under the status quo.
The OWS movement recognizes all of this, and no right-wing commentary to the contrary is going to make these disillusioned crowds stop and think, 'hey, you know? Maybe Mr. Cantor is right. Perhaps Mr. Herman Cain is also correct. It's my fault I'm not rich.. because that's obviously what I came here to do. Protest the fact that I don't have what the top 1% has. That's the basis of this entire revolution; jealousy! Why can't I be a selfish, opportunistic prick with lots of money?! That's all I've ever wanted to be my entire life! Holy fuck! I'm tired of not being able to exploit my fellow human beings for profit as part of the 99%!"
It's far to easy to bash the right for it's obvious ignorance and stupidity in this situation, whether it's intentional or not. They need to work on more convincing arguments if they want to even have a chance at stopping this revolution from threatening their material empire.
Many right-wing financiers and commentators simply look at the collective uprising as an example of left-wing 'mob mentality;'the hypotheses that such a collectivist mentality could exist in some 'terrible' form being discovered by yours truly during an outing at the local Coles bookstore, in which I came across Ann Coulter's book, "Demonic: How the Liberal Mob is Endangering America."
As I flipped through Demonic, all I could draw parallels to was the feeling of 'how the fuck could anyone actually believe this bullshit?' that I got from flipping through the first few pages of Benito Mussolini's The Fascist Doctrine. Were I a notable figure in political affairs, right-wing commentators would already be shutting me down saying, "Look at this left-wing nut-bar. He's using one of the oldest tricks in the book! Comparing the right to fascists and Nazism and all that historical stuff. This young man is obviously a threat to our societal fabric and all his valid points from here on in are now rendered invalid and unimportant due to this single thing we caught him saying which we will now hang over his politically-attuned head like a guillotine to his credibility... and if he tries to get in our way one more time, we will sell his story to Glen Beck so that intellectual genius can tear him to bits with his infallible logic."
And I would watch this with both a deep humor regarding these peoples willfully ignorant and blatantly arrogant viewpoints and decide they have no true intellectual credibility, and that the fact that they're serious only makes it all the more hilarious... but that humor would also wallow alongside a feeling of deep anger and fear at the fact that such absolute idiots have such a stranglehold on not only North America, but the human race at large.
Eric Cantor, the Republican Majority Leader in the House of Representatives, in speaking against the OWS movement said: "I for one am increasingly concerned about the growing mobs occupying Wall Street and the other cities across the country. Believe it or not, some in this town have actually condoned the pitting of Americans against Americans."
Boy oh boy oh boy! You know someone is a self-serving politician if their entire address, whether consciously or not, seems to miss the entire context of the movement itself. And calling it a 'mob'... it's the same polarizing tactic used to marginalize and ostracize anyone who supports the welfare-state or other socialistic practices when they're simply labelled as 'communists.' When right-wing politicians call someone or something 'communist,' they are deliberately appealing to the lowest common denominator of the population that has never studied communism and only knows, at best, its context in American history as the 'Red scare' or the 'Soviet menace.' That invisible enemy that almost killed us that one time, which must mean everything about them was nothing but pure evil.
One small step up from the lowest common denominator, however, is the half-baked pseudo-intellectual who, when they hear that someone or something is 'communist,' remembers nothing but the atrocities committed under Joseph Stalin or Mao Zedong. This condemns their stupefied face-value interpretation to forever see whatever was labelled as 'communist' as potential mass-murderers who are simply looking to install an evil totalitarian regime. They don't understand the true definition of either communism or socialism; and that's exactly the way they want it. They simply want their ignorant followers to view those is opposition to the right in the way the right is viewed by everyone else due to what they have actually done to deserve such an image.
When the right labels a legitimate protest that is against its best interests as a 'mob,' it hopes to incite memories of the Salem which-hunts, the Detroit riots, and simply the Judaeo-Christian interpretation of an 'angry mob carrying pitch-forks and torches, ready to rape, pillage, and murder until their desires are met.' It's these mass-generalizations that keep the right as powerful as it is. Without such loose-terms and assumptive measures, the clearer, truer, and more specific definitions of what's occurring would show themselves and the right would immediately be discredited as self-serving and simply stupid.
It's this arrogance and stubborn idiocy that turned democracy into nothing but a symbolic charade of corporate tools either working for the financiers and self-proclaimed 'elites,' or required to work-around their maze of control in order to attempt to contribute to the common good without reducing or eliminating the current profit that's being made under the status quo.
The OWS movement recognizes all of this, and no right-wing commentary to the contrary is going to make these disillusioned crowds stop and think, 'hey, you know? Maybe Mr. Cantor is right. Perhaps Mr. Herman Cain is also correct. It's my fault I'm not rich.. because that's obviously what I came here to do. Protest the fact that I don't have what the top 1% has. That's the basis of this entire revolution; jealousy! Why can't I be a selfish, opportunistic prick with lots of money?! That's all I've ever wanted to be my entire life! Holy fuck! I'm tired of not being able to exploit my fellow human beings for profit as part of the 99%!"
It's far to easy to bash the right for it's obvious ignorance and stupidity in this situation, whether it's intentional or not. They need to work on more convincing arguments if they want to even have a chance at stopping this revolution from threatening their material empire.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Big Changes Await on the Approaching Horizon of my Near Future
and I'm sorry if my irrational capitalization of the most important words in the title pisses you off. It looks better that way.
Anyways, many large changes are hurtling my way within the next 3 weeks or so. At the end of this week, I'm giving my bosses at my current job my 2 weeks notice. Hopefully I'll still get some work in those 2 weeks, and hopefully they're kind enough to step-over some red-tape and get my pay to me before I head-off to Port Coquitlam to live with a good friend of mine and his mother for awhile. As soon as I get there, I'll be pounding the pavement yet again to look for some half-decent employment, which shouldn't be too hard, seeing as the Holiday season is coming up pretty quick. Consumer society will be looking for some extra hands to wrap presents and shit. I just hope I don't lose any job I gain after the Holiday season comes to a close in January.
I'm not heading directly down to Port Coquitlam, however. First off, I'll be heading down to Saltspring Island for the third time in 2 months to stay at my girlfriends house for 5 or 6 days before heading off to the city of Victoria just across the Georgia Strait in order to visit some friends of mine at the University of Victoria and attend a Halloween party in the area. After that, I'll finally be departing to my new home, but the drastic change will still stand as soon as I step on the ferry to Vancouver Island; I'm leaving my hometown I grew up in. I'm leaving my father and mother, my brother, my best friends, my good friends, my friends, my extended family, my co-workers and colleagues, the walks into town along the ocean route, the serene lakes and beautifully blissfull camping trips chalk-full of inebriated old friends and an endless window to outer-space... the bottom line is.. I'm leaving Powell River for greater suburbia and the big city.
I look forward to my coming adventures, and this act is me finally taking the dive into the beautiful abyss of my future... but I'll miss Powell River and (almost) everything about it. I'll be back to visit, of course... and it will still be home, but it will no longer be my residence.
What long hours of robotically carrying out orders in the workplace await? What nights of incredible experiences and people?
I look forward to discovering all of this, and much, much more.
Anyways, many large changes are hurtling my way within the next 3 weeks or so. At the end of this week, I'm giving my bosses at my current job my 2 weeks notice. Hopefully I'll still get some work in those 2 weeks, and hopefully they're kind enough to step-over some red-tape and get my pay to me before I head-off to Port Coquitlam to live with a good friend of mine and his mother for awhile. As soon as I get there, I'll be pounding the pavement yet again to look for some half-decent employment, which shouldn't be too hard, seeing as the Holiday season is coming up pretty quick. Consumer society will be looking for some extra hands to wrap presents and shit. I just hope I don't lose any job I gain after the Holiday season comes to a close in January.
I'm not heading directly down to Port Coquitlam, however. First off, I'll be heading down to Saltspring Island for the third time in 2 months to stay at my girlfriends house for 5 or 6 days before heading off to the city of Victoria just across the Georgia Strait in order to visit some friends of mine at the University of Victoria and attend a Halloween party in the area. After that, I'll finally be departing to my new home, but the drastic change will still stand as soon as I step on the ferry to Vancouver Island; I'm leaving my hometown I grew up in. I'm leaving my father and mother, my brother, my best friends, my good friends, my friends, my extended family, my co-workers and colleagues, the walks into town along the ocean route, the serene lakes and beautifully blissfull camping trips chalk-full of inebriated old friends and an endless window to outer-space... the bottom line is.. I'm leaving Powell River for greater suburbia and the big city.
I look forward to my coming adventures, and this act is me finally taking the dive into the beautiful abyss of my future... but I'll miss Powell River and (almost) everything about it. I'll be back to visit, of course... and it will still be home, but it will no longer be my residence.
What long hours of robotically carrying out orders in the workplace await? What nights of incredible experiences and people?
I look forward to discovering all of this, and much, much more.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Suicide Lane
Providing you survive the drive inside the suicide lane,
The inane objections of several secular seconds will both drive you insane and tame the frame of irrational sanity,
Which stripped away the man in me,
And grabbed my sleeve convincingly to lament the angry laugh of free...
Enterprise; do I comprise of many lies,
As you do?
A gift or prize; yes I surmise the former plays no voodoo.
Like the latter,
Piter pater, I ask exactly, "Do you,"
Truly
care
to know...
If existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that damned infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor,
Who washes
Shame
Away
In calm, hot showers.
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
What malcontent.
We thought dissent would overthrow the circus tent,
Which represented forced consent with the oppressed by blissful fraudulence
Remaining 99 percent.
Peasants, plebeians, proletariat;
We poke the U.N. Secretariat,
To ask again,
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we there yet?"
And silence is how were always met.
We drop it, trust they won't forget,
About us, suffering cold sweats;
As we fear unwanted debt,
They won't forget,
They won't forget,
They won't forget
About us.
Yet competition takes it place,
And twists that sympathetic face,
To grab a poor man's knowledge base,
To ask him,
"What do
I gain
from assisting
The likes
Of you?"
The poor man bellows, "you're poor too!
Like those who can't afford shampoo.
You can't afford my point of view,
It risks a loss that's overdue,
And money makes you misconstrue,
Existence."
And if existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that damned infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor;
He forgot the human aspect should always be the biggest factor,
On his spreadsheets as he calculates productivity's next chapter;
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
This isn't right.
I question fines,
And wonder, where's the kindness?
What happened to our kindred spirits?
Did we leave all that behind us?
Is money truly all we want,
And happiness put second?
The future is unwritten,
So follow me;
Expect resistance.
The inane objections of several secular seconds will both drive you insane and tame the frame of irrational sanity,
Which stripped away the man in me,
And grabbed my sleeve convincingly to lament the angry laugh of free...
Enterprise; do I comprise of many lies,
As you do?
A gift or prize; yes I surmise the former plays no voodoo.
Like the latter,
Piter pater, I ask exactly, "Do you,"
Truly
care
to know...
If existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that damned infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor,
Who washes
Shame
Away
In calm, hot showers.
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
What malcontent.
We thought dissent would overthrow the circus tent,
Which represented forced consent with the oppressed by blissful fraudulence
Remaining 99 percent.
Peasants, plebeians, proletariat;
We poke the U.N. Secretariat,
To ask again,
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we there yet?"
And silence is how were always met.
We drop it, trust they won't forget,
About us, suffering cold sweats;
As we fear unwanted debt,
They won't forget,
They won't forget,
They won't forget
About us.
Yet competition takes it place,
And twists that sympathetic face,
To grab a poor man's knowledge base,
To ask him,
"What do
I gain
from assisting
The likes
Of you?"
The poor man bellows, "you're poor too!
Like those who can't afford shampoo.
You can't afford my point of view,
It risks a loss that's overdue,
And money makes you misconstrue,
Existence."
And if existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that damned infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor;
He forgot the human aspect should always be the biggest factor,
On his spreadsheets as he calculates productivity's next chapter;
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
This isn't right.
I question fines,
And wonder, where's the kindness?
What happened to our kindred spirits?
Did we leave all that behind us?
Is money truly all we want,
And happiness put second?
The future is unwritten,
So follow me;
Expect resistance.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Copyright
