Horatio's Book Review Corner - Slapstick

Slapstick - Kurt Vonnegut

Slapstick was a good book. Obviously. What else am i going to say. "Kurt Vonnegut wrote a bad book" hahaha ok.

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Slapstick is short, which is good. It was palate cleanser. But it was also very good. Not the best or the greatest but it was simple and it was sweet and sometimes funny too. 

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It's about loneliness mostly and it is about the last president of the united states who does something about it. i think this book technically counts as post-apocalyptic but i dunno. 

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It has a happy ending. western civilization has ended but things are still looking up.

Hi Ho.

Horatio's Book Review Corner - The Raw Shark Texts

The Raw Shark Texts - Stephen Hall

I'm not sure what to make of this book. I haven't been sure since I read the cover. Is it serious fiction or airplane fare or what? Ok, that doesn't matter. A book is a book and labels are stupid. I know I enjoyed reading it, I know that there are parts of the book that I genuinely enjoyed that no one could take away from me and that says something at least. But it's not perfect, not any where near perfect. The characters are flat and the dialogue is generally trite, an author striving for witty, sarcastic and ending up with contrived and empty.

Ok whatever. The book is a testament to the novel as a delivery system. The author had an idea, and a it was a good one - conceptual fishes and the immortal Mycroft Ward are the two best things about the book, the things that make me want to like what I read but it suffers because the author has so much to say that he must tell us everything. Further weakening the book one must confront the fact that it is a rather blatant Frankenstein monster, a stitch up of 

various bits of familiar pop culture. 

There is quote on the front from Mark Haddon (this only added to my pre-read confusion) where he calls it a bastard child of the Matrix, Jaws, and the Da Vinci Code, which is pretty darn bang on and if you throw Memento in there too you have a pretty good idea of what will happen. In fact the climax of the book is an unapologetic rehash of Jaws, which is cocky or stupid or art or I don't know but it did not improve my opinion. There is also ASCII type art floating everywhere which is gimicky even if I guess it does a good job of showing a shark made of memes and concepts. 

This book had a good concept. In fact it had two. This could have been two books I think. One devoted to the Ludovician and Eric Sanderson and one devoted to Mycroft Ward. As unfulfilling as the book on whole might have been the Ward part was possibly the best, or at least the most interesting part. A man who dedicates his life to immortality succeeds and in a way that is entirely plausible. Using hypnosis he implants his personality and his memories and everything about him onto a willing volunteer and then does this new Ward who shares all mannerisms, opinions, thoughts process etc not indeed becomes the Ward? In that way could you say that Ward had not achieved immortality? But the Raw Shark Texts is more interested in the boring relationship of Scout and Eric and then it's shark time for thirty pages but seriously if you watched the last fifteen minutes of Jaws you'd end up with the same result just you would have enjoyed yourself a lot more.  

Horatio's Book Review Corner - Blood Meridian

Sometimes when I finish a book, I word barf all over a .txt file, jotting down my thoughts on said book real quick, all cinema verite, all gritty and uncensored, straight talk for straight shooters. Ok. Here's Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy

I just put down Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy. I should have known better than to go back to 

McCarthy. His books are bleak and shattering and compeling and horrific and you want to put them 

down because there is no way you can keep reading, your poor, frail emotions can only take so much

of a beating, but yet you keep reading because you have to know how it ends, you have to know what 

becomes of all these terrible, lawless, bloodthirsty men and you just have to know, you just have to

see it happen, you have signed a covenant without realising it. 

Blood Meridian is a western, I guess,

if you need a genre label, in that it is set in the old west and there are cowboys and indians, and

laws are made through the barrel of a gun, but it is not a western because there are no good guys, bad

guys, white horses or governemnt cavalry saving the day. It is awful, vicious people doing awful vicious

things to other awful, vicious people. It is much more the great american novel, if you can consider

that a genre, great men making themselves with no help from god or country or anyone, just by strength 

of will and contempt for all living things. This is not a happy book. Good things do not happen and if 

they did, there would be no good people for them to happen to. The protaganist, just called the kid,

is that, a kid alone in the world who falls in with lawless mercenaries who scour the deadly southern 

deserts for indians to scalp and lay waste to anything in everything in their way. 

The landscape is as

central a character as any. It exists to destroy as surely as glanton's men or any apaches do, though

obviously it is indifferent to who's bones should bleach in the sun, indian or white man or horse or

donkey. The men are all killers and they share no love for any besides themselves. Self preservation is 

all the counts.The kid kills with them and drinks with them though we see him with the only spark of 

what I'll call humanity though even then I suspect I might be wrong. There are others like Toadvine, 

who at least puts the puppies out of their misery and the expriest who tells the kid to kill the judge 

but like everyone else in the book they end up dead. 

The judge is of course the most interesting character. The philosopher-warrior, hairless and often 

naked, he is sufficent at every thing he does, and gives off the aura of a god among men. The books ends

and he is laughing that he will live forever and you do not doubt it for he is hardly a man at all.

There is a lot i do not know about the book and the judge is the largest mystery. He is a towering

question mark to all those inside the book and I assume all those who are reading it as well. He is 

insane, of course, as he is told many times, but that is because they do not, and I do not, understand 

him at all. he says during one of his speeches, that everything that exists without his knowledge exists

without his consent and that sticks with me.

Part2

No excuses, sticking to my guns I think this is fun

Past in Present - Fiest

Yesss lissnin' to Fiest on my ipod I feel like smiling whenever that
happens or just when I hear this song in general. This is a good song off
that album that made Fiest everybody's crush and it's not 1234 catchy but
it is still one of my favourites. I definitely like Fiest better on her
up tempo songs but that is true for just music in general for me so liking
this song is just a no brainer

Videotape - Radiohead

Awful confession: In Rainbows was my first radiohead album. I
think it was 15 step that convinced me to go for it, like you have to start
somewhere with radiohead right and this album was v. accessible and
likable. Uhhh this song is a bit of a downer, not my favourite gotta be
honest but there is something pretty about his voice and its listenable
for sure, I was just getting annoyed when it came up while I was biking
or whatever because it is not pump up the blood music. But just sitting
here now just digging it yeah it's good no complaints. "And this has been
the most perfect day..." is my favourite line I think though it's starts
well with the thing about the pearly gates.

Retirement - Kaiser Chiefs

I found this album really really listenable, whether it was like really
good I don't know but it was innoffensive and enjoyable and i know they
are like a million other bands but I think they do it well, that
britrockpop sound with charming accents and decent lyrics. This song is fun,
one of the ones I liked more, good and fun and I don't have to justify
jack all.

This Heart's on Fire - Wolf Parade

I haven't listen to Wolf Parade's new album because I'm still
listening to their last one. I got on board pretty late and only then
because I was trying to be a better canadian but oh wow this band and this
album has just grown and grown and grown on me like the more I listen to
it the more I like it. It's been months and months now but there's is not
much chance of burning out on it at all. This song is not my favourite or
anything, it's maybe an average song but average on this album is still
etc etc. Kind of afraid of spinning the new wolf parade because how could
i like it as much as this one???

Roxanne - The Police

I have no major insights into the Police. I think this is the only Police
song I have and obviously it is awesome and obviously it is great to jam
to on rock band and it makes a decent drinking game but other wise that is
it with my interaction with roxanne and the police. Sting's reggae thing
is pretty sweet though and the song is great to sing along to and that's
all i have to say??

Technologic - Daft Punk

I think one of my little bros must have downloaded this cause i didn't. I
don't know much about daft punk except this was the song that Kanye used
and there are those cool hand videos on youtube but otherwise??? It's
catchy huh

British Legion - Kasabian

I do not remember this song at all. Kasabian is A+ but this song doesn't
really sound like them, or it is not indicative of their best so maybe I
just didn't listen to it much, or blocked the memory or something.

Cold Wind - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Oooh these guys are good kind like Kasabian I think? I took a chance on
them basically because of their name and was not disappointed at all.
Haven't listen to it much in a while and this the only album of theirs I
know so maybe I should look farther in. This song is p. good, kinda macho
in good way like these guys know what they are doing, but also it is a
little boring. It is definitely possible to get over this stuff

Nirvana - Come as you Are

Hahaha what do I know about Nirvana. I was just an adorable little kid when
Kurt Cobain was relevant so I don't even know why I have the three nirvana
songs I do. I mean it's a fine song but umm doesn't do anything for me
re: wasn't old enough to care about grunge/music at all and if you didn't
grow up with grunge I don't know why you would want to listen to it. Oh
wait Dave Grohl was/is pretty cool, kinda surprised no Foo Fighters have shown
up yet. Uhh so yeah pretty good drumming listen to that beat. Go Grohl go.

This Song Will Ruin/Save your Life - Born Ruffians

I found a bunch of Born Ruffian songs online a lot before the real album
formed (haha listen to me be all indier than thou) and this is the song that warmed my heart and made me a believer. It
uhh spoke to my teenage self I guess? Still pretty catchy I like the way
he sings all breathlessly just like making it up as he goes almost. Still
love this song.

The AV Club doesn't care about You

Anyway this is dumb+boring but it's a standard open your ipod, see what happens thing.

Your Time has Come - Audioslave

Was hoping audioslave wouldn't show up. I think I have their
entire discography and they were definitely one of the first bands I ever
really said "hey, i like these guys for sure" but all their songs kind of
run into eachother now. Anyway no apologies screw you

Sci-fi Lullaby - Silversun Pickups

Oh boy I do like this song and I do this thing where I binge on Silversun
for a couple weeks usually in the winter I think. I don't think I have
anything else like them in my pod and I wouldn't want it that way any way.
Silversun Pickups is like the reason I couldn't get into Teegan and Sara
when everyone was jizzing on them because I was like, "yeah, been there".
I really dig the whole quiet intensity and the way this song kind of builds
and if i knew any music terminology I would bust it out now.

Centennial - Tokyo Police Club

Yes i was hoping TPC would show up b/c these guys are my crush right now.
Well it was more a summer thing but I'm still listening to Elephant Shell
and I still think it is pretty rad. This song is not the best one on the
album but it is still good and there's a nice story thing going on

Stray Cat Blues - Rolling Stones

Hahaha what can i say about the Stones I mean they are what they are and
they stem from my early music listening days when I was still trying to
figure out what music was and how I related to it and I mean this is a
pretty good song. I don't have strong opinions on classic rock and I have
no idea how this song fits into the Rolling Stones story but uhh I like it
and it's one of like 10 Stones songs I have and they are all good you know?

Streets of Love - Rolling Stones

Oh frig off I have like ten Stones songs and this is not one I like much.
I mean I don't dislike it, oh wait it just got to the chorus, yeah it's
nice but I'd rather they were kicking my ass then being all sentimental,
"the corner store fixes broken hearts". Anyway yeah I don't know whether
this is early or late Stones or whether this shows up on greatest hits or
what I basically got all the Rolling Stones on my hardrive from typing in
the band name into Limewire and going for what sounded good

Halo the Harpoons - The Stills

I took a gamble on this album and it turned out to be pretty boring and I
haven't really listened to it or them since (The Stills are now equated in
my head with like the ideal of boring you know?). But this song is one of
the good ones, good being relative but it is nice. Like nice in a "maybe
it is time to reconsider" nice. Oh wait no this band is just too slow +
uninteresting it had me fooled for like the first two minutes. "Sharks
that do nothing but stall and think". I like the lyrics wish the rest was
better

Transliterator - Devotchka

Oh wow one of my favourite songs of recently, easily my favourite song off
a mad and faithful telling. the rest of the album is nice and good but this
song is $$$$ I love the chorus "beautifly mutilated, instantly antiquated,
i admit i always underestimate it" that is not quite how goes but whatever.

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes

I think this is one of the earliest songs I ever downloaded and it is what
made me realize that the White Stripes were a really good band. Not like
that is a revelation or whatever but it was for younger me b/c i don't know
but I was pretty lost back then just trying to get into music and the
Stripes were kinda weird to me until this. I still think its awesome and I'm
kind of embarrassed that I never followed up and downloaded the rest of the
album but I basically listened to Icky Thump for 2007 so this is an
important signpost.

Nothing Left to Say - Audioslave

Frrrig off my ipod is like my mom showing naked baby pictures to cute girls,
why are you doing this? Anyway title sums it up. This is off revelations
which if i am remembering right was their Last album, and also my least
favourite, if I can even use superlatives with this band. Oh I see this song gets better like two minutes in; I don't know I just have a thing for Chris Cornell's voice. I think we all have our weaknesses.

Wucan - Black Mountain

Oh sweet this band is heavy good, I've been listening to them a lot lately.
they are heavier and kinda more retro than I usually listen to but they
have a guy/girl thing going (usually just the guy tho) and I'm a sucker for
that, plus they are from like a hippie commune in BC so if you are looking
for stuff to get high too I'm guessing this would work. This song is good, not
the best but it has moments and it's five minutes so just a good solid five
minutes of solid music. A lot of it is just instrumental so you can really
just think deep thoughts or whatever.

State of the union

Oh frig oh frig it's raining outside and it's making me feel more useless than I usually do. My mantra is I gotta do new things, I want to be that person, you know the person who is creative and challenges themself and eats funny types of spinach and jogs every morning - that is who I want to be. But I never leave my room so that is kinda hard. My room is the worst place. It is a cocoon, a womb, a soft inviting prison of my own design and there's never a reason to leave.

I had to fight myself to get moving this morning because I was stupid and I went on youtube ten minutes before I should have been leaving. It was literally "maybe I could just skip class today" and all because I was watching some punk 11 year old play an acoustic version of the pirates of the caribbean theme, and he was good too. I used to have a no youtube rule, and I would never go there under my own volition but now I'm all web 2.0 with subscriptions and all that crap. God I'll have a rss reader soon I know it and then that will be the day.

I compromised and took my laptop to school with me because there was important e-business to be done and I swear my room is a toxic environment, it is the worst I can`t get anything done in there because my room is where I watch 30 rock over the internet and its where I read stupid message boards not where I do work. How do people who work form home do it? How do they delineate so well work and home? I can't do it. If work needs doing I gotta get myself to school to do it otherwise I am just sucked back down and suddenly I'm watching water balloons pop in super slow motion at three in the morning.

Get ACTIVE, Get INVOLVED

Campus was taken over by the club fair today. I took some notes. These ones were the most interesting. They might not also exist, but that is not very important.

Bridge Club - It's just two guys playing bridge at their table. They are both obviously well into their seventies but they are both wearing doo rags and retro Phillies jerseys. One starts using his doo rag as a napkin. He places it on his lap to collect crumbs. Nobody will say anything for several hours.

The Leo Tolstoy Re-enactment Society - They are doing a re-enactment as you pass by. There is a chair and a small table atop their table, and there is a man sitting there, writing with a quill pen. He is dressed strangely, and his long, white beard is fake. It is not a very good fake beard, it does not look believable. They used to have a better fake beard, but the last club president took it with him when he graduated. He is in Red Deer now and the cost of shipping is prohibitive. The man is re-enacting the writing of Anna Karenina. They will tell you this if you ask though it should be obvious.

Lactose Intolerant Society - They were a support group once but now they are more like a para-military guerrilla assault force. There are line ups in front of their table. They are barbecuing several hundred pounds of dairy cow. It is free if you are willing to join their mailing list and renounce milk.

The 1228 Association - They meet every other Sunday. They are only concerned with the year 1228 AD, though exceptions are generally made so that they may celebrate the birthday of Pope Nicholas IV, which, as is generally known, occurred in 1227. The 1228 Association shows its appreciation through many forms; re-enactments, theatrical productions, debates and interpretive dance of course being the most common.

Anti Dadaist Defense League - Just a single woman alone at the booth, painting simple, but elegant horses on plain white paper. There are several of them finished, and they are displayed prominently and each has a price, ranging from $3 to $350. If you ask to buy one, she will stop her drawing and she will tell you to fuck off, do you think you are funny?

Edamame Appreciation Society - It is a couple guys and girls sitting at this table. The men have not shaved and the women wear tie-dye bandanas. They eat the beans raw. They eat them by throwing them high and catching them with their mouths. They toss some to passers by. They have recipes hand written on
small, colourful cue cards. They are not lima beans, they shout.

The Motorcycle Club - It is every guy you thought was a dick in high school. They all have motorcycles now. They don't drive them, they don't know how, but they sit there on their bikes revving their engines. They will do this for two hours. They are available for events.

A Club Called Wanda - They organize weekly screenings of A Fish Called Wanda. It is not complicated. They no longer serve fish and chips. They do not think you are funny when you sneak it in. Each screening concludes with a group discussion. Planned topics include, "Stephen Fry: Could his Cameo Have
Been Longer?" "Proper Aquarium Maintenance , Tips and Tricks" and "Kevin Kline v. Michael Palin: Who Deserved the Oscar?"

The Grouchist-Marxist Times - This is not a real newspaper. You cannot join them. It is just four business students wearing spotted bow ties and fake mustaches. Their table sits across from the Marxist-Leninist Workers' Press. The four students have learned the Stalinist era Soviet Anthem for the occasion. They will quickly grow bored.

Sprite Club - The people at this table are actors. They are paid for by the Coca-Cola Corporation. The actors hand out free lemon lime flavoured soft drinks. You will pretend that the actors are interested in you as a human being. You will return three times and you will get a new Sprite time every time because they don't remember you, they don't care. They do not even drink Sprite. They are people who read ingredient labels.

Young Conservatives of Canada - An unexpected offshoot of the Engineering department's Robotics program, The Young Conservatives do not accept new members composed of organic compounds. You can try to fool them, but they will know. They have tests. They will break a small dog's neck in front of
your eyes. They will not cry. If you are lucky one will show you its shiny metallic heart.

Conspiracy Theories

You want to talk about conspiracy theories? With me? I know what you want to talk about. You want to talk about 9/11 thruths and new world orders and chemtrails and high fructose corn syrups and I bet you still have questions about who killed JFK you fucking sheltered little shit. Let me blow your mind. It doesn't matter who killed Kennedy, not that I don't know who killed "him" because I do, I do know who killed "JFK" and his name was Harold Hauptman, a 24 year old devout protestant pig farmer from Wisconsin but you don't know why that is significant becuase you still think "JFK" was a real person, you poor naive bastard.

He wasn't. John Fitzgerald Kennedy, 35th President of the United States of "America" was not a real person. The "JFK" you know was nothing more than a series of similar looking actors propped up and strung along by the Kennedy family (don't get me started on those communist sons of bitches) and the Catholic Church in an attempt to widen the influence of that godless pope over the people of America.

Why the fuck do you think they killed Marilyn Monroe? Are you stupid? And Bobby Kennedy, at least he was a real human being, he threatened to go public once he was elected.

So you still care about who killed him? It wasn't the CIA you fuckhead. Why would they have cared? They were too busy trading arms with the Russians and developing eugenically enhanced supermen to replace every single fucking world leader.

Harold Hauptman like I said. He pieced the whole thing together from blurry pictures in old Time magazines and at the urging of his minister traveled to Dallas to expose the conspiracy. The Catholic Church using the extensive power and influence it had gained during "JFK's" short term, gave him the inventive name of "Lee 'Harvey' Oswald" and some bullshit backstory and then had him killed two days later by a member of the Pope's own personal death squad, but you would know him as Jack Ruby, the innocent shitter you are.

I'm not done with you yet. Let's keep talking about presidents. Everybody already knows Nixon was a Chinaman, but I bet you didn't know that Reagan was a robot.

He wasn't always. Ronald Reagan, distinguished actor and movie star was not a robot. You want to know more about that guy? Read his fucking wikipedia (that's a fucking joke, unless you really want the government harvesting you credit card numbers).

Nobody will tell you this but Ronald Reagan didn't die in 2004, he died in 1962, gasp oh my goodness, what a coincidence, the same year he became a republican. Ronald Reagan a republican? Are you fucking dense? The man was god damned communist, and he suddenly starts selling ovens for GE? Don't insult my intelligence. What the Republican party and this country's military industrial complex don't want you to know is that Ronald Reagan, actor, died in a plane crash in Arizona when his single engine Cessna went down, oh, gee, more fucking coincidences, his plane crashes in fucking militray base.

So they shoot down a respected actor and aspiring politican and do you know why? The GOP had been planning something like this for years, ever since they pulled the mask off Hilter's cold machine face, and thanks to giant leaps forward in technology (cough ROSWELL cough) they were just waiting for the right candidate. So they stitch Reagan back together with a positronic brain in the middle and they suddenly had the perfect conservative weapon.

Who the fuck would tell the difference. RobofuckingReagan was cold and heartless yeah but how is that different from any other neoconservative asshole.

Look anyway there is a lot of bullshit out there but if you stick with me we'll get through this.

I don't want a medal or anything. Living twenty years in a row is a pretty good accomplishment and I will gladly take high fives from anyone who puts them up, but this is hardly a time to sit back and bask. Sit up, sit straight, take stock of who you are and what you have done so far with those twenty years. If you are like me, you have not much to show, if you are like me, and we were called forward to face some sort of terrible reckoning for the lives lived and unlived in those twenty consecutive years upon this earth, you would have little grounds for clemency, and your bones would be ash before your judge.

Likely you are not like me, but even still what you have taken a lifetime so far to accomplish, you will out pace and out strip again and again in the coming years and if life were not so then perhaps it would not be a life worth living. What person would stand up and claim with pride that his name was made before his twentieth year, that the apex of his creativity, his soul, his being was reached at such an early age, that man then doomed to slowly fade on the sadder side of his life's climactic parabola, that he may watch that zenith fade from view and that he might cling to photographs and newspaper clippings that once extolled his virility and imagination, but no more his name appears in ink.

Now is the time to take stock in what lies around you. Your chance at reinvention is like wet concrete drying in the sun, move fast and move now because one day you will wake up and you will be one person and you will be that person for the rest of your life. If you are me there are things that you do not like about yourself and so must you be the surgeon to your tumours. Cut them off and cast them away and become the person you know you are. I can give no greater advice, me a man who if there was cosmic justice would surely have his mouth wired shut for what good words could pass through his lips, having made so many poor choices so that he can never be considered a fit leader of men.

Make mistakes now, please and make them big and make them spectacular. Break hearts and break bones and bruise lips and bruise egos and learn from everything because school never ends unless you want it to, unless you close your eyes hum to yourself and hope that whatever the world is beyond your fastened lids is the same as what it was when you closed them. This is a heady time and closing your eyes for just a second may feel right but you can not stop the world from spinning and this blue jewel cares not whether you pay attention or not. Which is why you must, you must pay attention because there is no one to do it for you, it is not a job that can be contracted out.

I am not your father and I should not preach because my words are mostly empty vanities but there is truth I think when I say that when things are said and things are done one must take responsibility, take your pants up from around your knees and accept the things that will not accept you and accept that there are things beyond your control and take responsibility for even those too for then you can say that this rain falls because of me and if you say it loud enough and if the right twinkle rests in your eye there will be some who will look around and wonder if it really only does rain because your voice calls it forth.

Sleeping by the Don

there was a man sleeping by the don as i biked by
his bike wasn't worth stealing so it lay with him
he lay on the concrete partition facing the water
if that's what you want to call
the whatever it is that flows by
his head was on his sweater was a pillow

i thought, wow, that guy is cool
just sleeping by the don
on a sunday afternoon
i tried to guess his job
maybe he fixed bikes
or climbed rocks
or maybe he played guitar

on my way home, i followed the don again
and he was gone
but there was another man
he was shaking out a blanket, under a bridge
he did not look like a homeless man
he was filipino, maybe, and he was dressed
in second hand finery
a blue collared shirt and pants
and his hair was jet black and swept back
except where his gel had failed him
and the black strands fell limp to the side

and i guess it felt like someone had punched me
or made fun of some secret that i loved
because that is not what homeless men look like
that is no place for buttoned-up shirts
people sleep under bridges, friggin deal right
but not guys who are looking for jobs
beating down doors
broken english and a family a world away
waiting for some good news
from a breadwinner
who sleeps with a blanket under a bridge

Oh Man Hello R Rating

Have you ever watched bisexual porn? It is an experience. Probably pretty hard to find too, though I wouldn't know, cause you believe when I say I don't go searching for it ever at all.

But it's different, like in a weird, weird way. I guess most people are pretty used to seeing ladies kissing ladies (pretty hot, I know, I agree) but dudes on dudes is still way out of left field every time.

So this little vid is two guys and a girl, which is hardly anything genre bending (get it? it is almost a pun on gender bending) when it comes to pornography, because otherwise the whole subgroup of double teaming wouldn't even exist. It's not gay if you high five, right guys? One chick sucking off two guys is expected, sucking and fucking simultaneaously? Oh dear, again with that? But seriously, throw bisexuality into the mix and becomes something else entirely.

It was Russian, my bi porn, which makes sense because the idea of two farm fed American boys named Brock and Chet sucking each other while fingering fucking some disinterested ho-let is hard enough to picture. So these two grody Russian guys (like there are any other kind, hyuck) are sitting around and this pasty white Russian chick (like there are any other kind, hyuck) is sitting on a guy's lap drinking vodka (like what else would she be doing, hyuck) and she's basically falling all over the place. Her top comes off and hands are groping and the other guy's dick is whipped out right fast like he was almost expecting a night of drinking with this couple to end up in a hot three way.

So the couple is making out and Ruskie 2 is naked and his little guy is waving around looking for attention. The woman takes him in her mouth and she's kind of suckling on it and so far everything is pretty standard porn wise but then the first guy kind of butts in suddenly and he is really into the the cocksucking, like he is making the woman look like D-League amateur stuff. And now it's almost surreal, if you were some kind of porn critic, I guess. It's a man and a woman both jostling, almost fighting for this dick in front of them and I am trying to reshape the power dynamic in my head but it is all very confusing.

In your standard porn obviously it is man comes, and cums first, woman second, but what happens when it's two guys? And the woman doesn't even appear interested, or maybe she just feels excluded because the guy is really, really into sucking that other man's member. Then it's the woman on her knees taking both of them, which is back on firmer porn ground, except obviously the guys here have no problem, uh, crossing streams, if you will. In fact it seems to be the whole point, the jostling in her mouth because once they're both in there is not much room to wiggle. Also she seems half a sleep which is par for the course for her, so maybe the guys are just looking for any way to get their rocks off.

So now she is on her back legs high taking it and thinking of mother russia from the look on her face while she sucks the other guy gently, and except for the bored woman in the middle, everything is pretty normal. But that's the last of that because now one guy is inside the other, they are lying side by side on the couch, and the catcher has a look like he is not enjoying himself in a big way, which is different from the woman he is absentmindingly fingering, who looks like she is not enjoying herself in just a small way.

The woman (I'll be honest, my primary focus) is now almost completely superfluous as the dudes fuck each other. There are some fingers inside her, but you'll excuse the man if his thoughts dwell on other holes. She gropes herself half-heartedly.

They finish the festivities by jerking themselves in the vague direction of her pussy, while she does the finger work herself. Their uncut Euro dicks spooge, and then that is that.

Bisexual porn is a surreal experience for the sheltered porn traveler. I feel like that twelve year old on his first tit site. Ew! I can't believe they did that.

(Writing about porn is kinda fun! All those bad words! Wooo)

Pilgrimage

I gotta write this down for posterity somewhere because I can't trust my memory for jack all.

We went on a mini-road trip on Thursday, down to Niagara (ugh, I know) and then to Buffalo. Sometimes dudes just need to do a thing . There were seven of us sardining in Imtiaz's van and we got to the Falls no problems. We hit up the Fallsview Casino (there are billboards lining the Gardiner as you head west out of Toronto advertising the casino for all those people who hop onto the highway without any clear plan in mind) but I don't know, I don't know I wasn't feeling lucky - real men know when to fold them - so I left the gents to their roulette while a couple of us went to get tipsy on expensive beer and empty stomachs.

I guess they lost enough money for one half hour because we found them in the lobby sober as judges (ED- I thought I just invented my own little aphorism but apparently 'sober as a judge' is already a thing! Holy geez, you know?) which we couldn't say for ourselves. I hope our laughter was enough to cheer them up! They gambled their money on a spinning wheel, we gambled ours on booze, and I think we would have won every time.

Anyway it is definitely getting on in the day so we have lunch at Wendy's or something, we are fellows with class, what can I say and then we have to meet up with Ray's friends. These are the dudes who know the way to the States so we play follow the Sentra and hey can't complain they get us to the border np.

Oh boy! The border! What an opportunity to put half cocked American stereotypes to test. You gotta picture this right, it's a van full of seven guys and at least four of them could be terrorists, who knows. We put a white dude in the front seat, which is a stupid commentary on, I don't know, us and our prejudices or Americans and their prejudices or somebody's prejudices at least. Two brown guys is asking for trouble, and two white guys makes us look like we're smuggling people south of the border so we mix and match to play it safe.

Our border guy is every small town American farm kid hopped up on methamphetamines looking to play hero I've ever imagined rolled into one, or maybe I was just projecting. We told him we were going down to Buffalo and he asked us why any one would want do that, in that disbelieving, discaring voice that border guards must practice hard for.

Imtiaz made a bad joke, "We want to see if you guys really don't have ketchup chips," and the border man said, "We really don't," like he hadn't heard that fifty times already. Anyway, we had a bag of those crazy contraband chips somewhere in the back, all ready to blow some frikken overweight American minds, but I think we ended up eating them in the car or something. We were waved through though, the border guard convinced I guess that we were no threat to anyone or anything. The we were following that Sentra again. We had Google Map directions to an outlet mall a shout and holler away from the Rainbow Bridge, but the Sentra had different ideas, and being strangers in a strange land, what could we do? They got us on the interstate, the I-190, maybe? Well we drove and drove paid a toll (American money! Dollar bills! Those Romans are crazy) and then drove and drove some more and that Sentra did the best impression of a car that did not know that barrels of oil were selling for $130.

We got to the Walden Galleria, eventually being the best to describe it, and well, what to say? Picture the Eaton Centre, I suppose, then remove 90% of the shoppers, and leave the prices the same, and you'd probably have an ok idea of what it was like. Feeling a little cheated and a little bored with these United States we ditched the Sentra and tried to make our way to that suddenly rarefied outlet mall. You don't want to hear how we spent fifteen minutes trying to figure just how we were supposed to get back, but we did figure it eventually. We took the scenic route, the route that took us through Buffalo proper, albeit at 60mph (100km/h but uh you knew that) and that was plenty fast enough because the border guard was right, Buffalo is a depressing place.

So now we're driving through the city of Niagara, American style, which, compared to the wannabe Reno gauche of the Canadian side, was a regular charmer of little town, except where it wasn't, which was in quite a few places, and that was where Imtiaz stopped to get directions, so I'm talking to an old black man who is super helpful and probably a very decent human being but then he asks me for some change and all I have are Loonies and weird shit like that and every bad race related thing that has ever happened in the US is racing through my head so we speed off and roll up the windows.

You can find rough areas in Toronto ("What? Carlton and Sherbourne?" my mom says, "You should be careful around there) but I don't know, our ghettos are pretty minor league. You be driving down Main St. Americatown and things are quaint and nice and then you go through an intersection and suddenly windows are boarded up and all the people look like they could probably give you a good price for whatever you need.

Anyway, we reach this outlet mall eventually as it is getting dark out, so we are time limited but we browse and window shop and I drop some dolla's on some fly kicks'n shit. Hey some one's gotta prop up that economy, you know? Oh yeah, and we basically found the root of American obesity while we were there too. Who needs a litre of Coke in one sitting? Anyway.

So we scoot back across the Rainbow Bridge (you know you gotta pay a toll to get back in the country??) and we get a border guard who is probably cousins or something with our last one, though this guy is minus any creepy xenophobia subtext. We tell him we were in Buffalo and he basically says the same thing (Buffalo????). Maybe Buffalo's tourism people might want to sit down with the border guards?

We total up our receipts and come up with the shocking total of $200, which just gives our border guard another chance to be disbelieving. "You guys came all the way down from Toronto to spend $200?" which is pretty ridiculous I guess, but someone explains that we were also at the casinos, so that is a bunch of money gone right there, which is enough for him and we are safe in Canada once again, safe from flagging economies, disappointing choices of potato chips, and cheap consumer goods.

We hit the other casino up, the Casino Niagara, which is the casino for people who like their dealers under dressed. Actually I like it better too, at least these guys aren't pretending to have some sort of class. Be yourself guy. The guys lose some more money. Braden and Shadat are out pretty quickly (Braden is the day's biggest loser) but Imtiaz sticks it out, makes things entertaining. We force him out eventually, despite his protests. I think every gambler has to know when his luck has left him, Imtiaz thinks that you either leave a casino rich or broke, no in between.

Oh yeah recurring motif on the day: getting friggin lost. Niagara is a city that does not want you to leave. We spend half and hour looking for the QEW which is hidden in plain sight and after that it is a simple trip home. Dudes in the back watching 300 on Braden's cellphone.

Final thoughts? Niagara is still an awful city. Gambling on an empty wallet makes me feel queasy. Western New York is a depressing place. Americans are exactly like Canadians except for when they aren't. Rumours of their lower prices have been greatly exaggerated. Border guards are uniform assholes, but I guess the have to be. Can I imagine doing a real road trip with seven dudes? I don't now. It's a little unwieldy, plus greater odds somebody will end up killing some one else, you know?

Whether the weather will wither

It's balls hot in here. You know what they say, and you know the guy who says it too, salt and pepper beard on that recent retiree with too short shorts and a bit of a belly and big smile and he laughs knowingly, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity."

It starts to rain outside and there are cool breezes whispering through my window, telling me inaudible secrets, but they don't stay long, they can't stay to play and then my room is muggy and buggy again. So screw this I head outside passing my parents in the living room talking about Robert Kennedy; where was he killed again?

Outside the view is cinematic. The composition and the lighting and the framing are all perfect; some one has gone to great trouble for the this shot, framed on one side by the neighbour's imposing house and on the other by the porch column (doric or ionic, iconic or ironic?) and I am looking down because my house is on a hill from the street. Everything is wet of course, slick and with a shine and there is a white Volkswagen Beetle underneath a street lamp that is making the whole street look like it was lifted off Hollywood back lot. The sky is that dark, muddy pink of city nights and the street light is filtering through thick spring foliage. The rain picks up speed, reaches a crescendo, the cymbals burst and the trumpets flare and then the rain recedes and then another crescendo, another peak, responding to the unseen commands of a master conductor.

A car drives up the street, slowly, mindful of speedbumps and poor weather conditions and the headlights illuminate the road, reavealing the constant ratatat the bombards the pavement. It's just rain, nothing special. It's always raining some where and somewhere kids always running through it and somewhere Gene Kelly is always dancing singing through it. Anyway. I need an air conditioner.

Why change anything about yourself?

Why? Because it's all wrong, that's why. Everything about me, obviously. I don't know about you, you're probably perfect or at least comparatively speaking if we are using me as the yard stick here. That guy people are happy to hold up, at arms length and say glad I'm not him. Alway happy to put things into perspective. I know things are a mess, I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know and I hate it. I'd give anything to have some direction in my life and I know you only ever want the best for me, I know that, and I know I know this aimless funk is frustrating for you because it is frustrating for me and all I want right now is time, just time to figure things out on my own and make my own stupid mistakes so I can learn my own lessons. It's cliche almost, the parent who doesn't want to see his child have to go through the same shit they did but I don't know, that's all I want right now.

Fuck this computer. God I need something to happen I need to do something I need money to move out to travel to write to do something anything I need to make things happen but what am I expecting something to happen while I sit behind the keyboard that's the last place anything will ever happen.

Did I ever have roommates?

No I didn't. But his name was Jacques. He was from Montreal or something. We didn't talk much. He spoke English but he was good for forgetting whenever I asked him not to smoke. Which was a lot, actually. I didn't at first because I didn't want to be that jackass who tries to enforce his right to not seek out lung cancer on other people and because Jacques seemed like a nice guy, maybe the kind of nice guy who would take my throwing open windows and making pantomime choking faces as hints. Maybe he had aspergers. I hear those guys have trouble picking up on social cues. So I started getting more verbal and I swear to god he jumped to three packs a day - three packs a day while in the apartment, who knows what he did outside.

That was when we stopped being nice to each other, I think, well, it's when I stopped being nice to him at least. Did you know he didn't drink milk? He called me bad words in French and said I was disgusting, and then, and this wasn't a coincidence because this man was nothing if not controlled and regimented chaos, he went two weeks without a shower, and he still brought home at least three different women during that same period (one of them introduced herself as Mercedes which at least made me feel a little bit better). It got to the point with Jacques that I would stop bringing friends over because to everyone in the world except myself, the one man in the world who had no choice but to be around him, he was the most charming Frenchman in the world, which is saying something, I think. If I had had a girlfriend (and I never did during our time together, a detail that Jacques was never shy in pointing out) I would have quickly lost out to my roommate.

I don't remember what he did for living. He might have been a bicycle courier. He definitely biked a lot. He kept the bike on the balcony (once, in a fit of vengeful rage after I "accidentally" used his expensive oyster mushrooms in a quite excellent stir-fry, he "accidentally" knocked over the adorable potted mint plant I had been growing that my mother had given me as house warming gift and it dropped twenty stories straight before making some neighbourhood cats very happy). He also followed competitive racing; he may be the only person I've met to own up to that. I heard him tell a woman once that he had been this close to the Olympics once, and it was stupid but I didn't disbelieve him right away.

You asked if I ever had a roommate. I haven't, but his name was Jacques.

These missed connections have me all wrapped up. I'm just a big old romantic I guess, but a romantic who doesn't want to hear a happy ending. Give me opportunities lost, meaningful glances on trains going opposite ways and people who always do the wrong thing in social situations please.

Derrida on the subway
I got on at VP but you didn't see me because you were studying so intently. it was exam season I guess and you were constantly checking the derrida sitting on the seat next to you. I thought of a great ice breaker that would have made you laugh and maybe for a moment make you forget how awful school is, but I don't know, the train was filling up and then there was a fat man and a stroller between us. If you still need a good derrida joke, message me

Missed Connections

I fell in love with Craiglist today, but that hardly makes me unique. Here are missed connections (toronto for context) I might put up when I feel brave

LOGAN AND DANFORTH (Sunday)
You were sitting by the fountain w/ a guy but you weren't smiling. He was talking a lot. I was making a mess out of a gyro. When our eyes met we had a moment, I think, I hope and I would do anything to see that smile again

Queen Streetcar (Sat 4 AM?)
I was drunk on too many Stellas and you were straight passed out, but graceful in your slouch. I like to think that it was expensive vodkas on another guy's tab and so much dancing that did you in. I sat opposite you and gave dirty, boozy looks to anyone who came near. I didn't like the idea of leaving you alone and asleep so I missed my stop by five before you came to life and stumbled off at Leslie. Not looking for a 'thank you', just a 'hello'

Giving money to homeless (Bay&Queen)
You were offering to buy that homeless man a coffee and I heard you ask his preference on organic and you were so perfect and stunning standing there that I had to do something. I dropped some change in the guy's hat, everything in my pocket and I tried to smile at you but it was awkward I think and I lost my nerve. I'd like to buy you a coffee. I know a place you'd love

Campus Second Cup (UofT Sid Smith)
I bought a coffee everytime I saw you working there. You remember me I think, you recommended a vanilla soy latte once, and you weren't wrong, but I never knew if you were interested or just polite. You told me your major once (linguistics) but do you remember mine?

Friends party --- good convo sat night?
We talked a bit at a friends party, you know one of those convos slightly tipsy hipster kids with too much school can have (nabokov? ninja turtles? don't even remember). I didn't get your number and we didn't even bother with names and then I saw you leave. I could probably look you up on facebook but I have a feeling this might be faster. hope I'm not wrong

Downtown chapters weds afternoon
You were a really good looking cashier and we both share a love for Shel Silverstein. I should have got your number but I always freeze up in those situations

Taking out garbage (annex)
I was biking by and you were struggling with the new bins (you could probably fit in one right?) and I made some not so witty remark but you laughed and smiled anyway. I should have stopped to help you at least but I was late for something and suddenly very nervous

a hundred other things i could be doing

goin through my notebooks
somebody else has been in them
i think
i don't remember
writing any of this
maybe some of it
half finished thoughts
ideas that didn't go anywhere
those are definitely mine

i like notebooks
use both sides of the page please
save paper
indents on the page from
a furious mind
create your own personal brail
when you go blind
you wont lose everything

Screw you

It's all so god damn cliche. Everything. It's all been done before, and it's probably been done better too. No room to be original anymore. Originality is dead any way. Replaced unceremoniously with irony and gosh if that hasn't been swell for every one. Nobody means what they say any more, it's all filtered through more and more layers of ever complex irony. Whatever. Getting angry is passe. But originality is still dead. There's no where left to go that hasn't been mapped, photographed, and put on Wikipedia. There's nothing left to do that doesn't have a corresponding greeting card. We're too late for tall ships, too early for spaceships. We're all out there looking for some kind of authentic experience, dulled and numbed as we are by tv, the internet, whatever, but even looking for legitimacy, for something real is just another cliche. Just another thing we're expected to do. Europe is out of the question, and not just because the Euro is making us all look bad. Everybody's been there. You go there for a week or two, or however long your budget allows and then you get back and you tell the same two stories over and over again and adopt stupid accents and every other sentence stars "Well, when I was in...".

You Don't Care What I Think

God everybody has an opinion, don't they? The internet is fueled by them, just every opinion imaginable, just every stupid idea gets representation somewhere. I used to have opinions, or, I used to have opinions I cared to share. I used to write about my opinions and I used to think that the best job in the world would be one where I got to tell people what I thought, where I got to tell people what they were doing wrong (everything). There are lots of people with jobs like that, all you need is a big enough mouth and the confidence to shout them.

I don't know if this is just because I'm young and restless but I don't have any confidence in my opinions anymore. Do you ever reach an age where your beliefs just get locked down? Then maybe you can get on with your life and worry about tangible crap and not whether that band is good or bad or just what? It doesn't feel right speaking my mind when I can't even be sure I'm going to feel the same way a week from now.

I read stuff I wrote just a year or two ago and already I wonder what I was thinking. The problem was that I had an opinion and I was damn sure the internet was going to hear it. People who have all the answers worry me. What makes them so sure that they're in the right? Do they ever sit themselves down and reevaluate where they are and how they got there?

Maybe this phase will pass. Maybe in a few years I'll look back on 2008 Horatio and think god what a pussy, couldn't he take a stand on anything? Yeah maybe. But right now I don't feel up to defending myself on anything. I'm trapped in this total perspective vortex - I try to see every side, I try to look around every corner, try to counter every counter-argument but that always always seems to leave me in the middle. Maybe this isn't a bad thing. Maybe more people should be in the middle.

I don't know. Right/wrong, good/evil, true/false, so many stupid dichotomies. What can I say. You don't care what I think about Tibet, what I think about the Obama, what I think about Canadian politics. Of course I have opinions and I like to think that they are reasonably informed, maybe even nuanced sometimes, but I know better than to put them in writing. I know better than to say I know what's best, because nobody does. They know what they think is right, I guess, and if we're lucky things turn out ok, and if we're not, at least we won't run short on opinion as to what went wrong.

I try to pervade this blog with, I don't know, a sense of uncertainty, a sense of confusion. There are no answers here. I don't hit the publish button until I've met my quota of "I don't know's". I don't know how compelling a moral morass may be to read, but I'm stuck in it. What are you going to do, complain? God, everbody has an opinion, don't they.

I'm a fool on a stool in school

School: A big chump factory, or what? Discuss, making specific references to the reading and citing at least three examples from popular culture that tie directly into your argument. Should be no more than 4000 words, excluding title page, your name, and the first three pages of your essay. Papers should be written in that font that makes it look like a kidnapping note, you know with the cut out letters? I really like that font. Late papers will be docked 2% per day, 25% if the day is also a prime number.

I don’t know.

Lectures are ok, usually. I am not opposed to learning. I’d call my self pro-learning in fact. A good professor uses his or her hour and change to tell a story, to engage us, to try to give us a new, a different, a maybe unexpected way of thinking about the world. Shift your friggin paradigms. Ask better questions. Why and how, not just what and when. Ok cool the Magna Carta was signed in 1215, 95 Theses in 1517, a civil war in 1861 but so what so what so what? Most professors are good that way I think. But some aren’t. Some use powerpoint because they need a crutch, couldn’t tell a good story even if they found themselves backed against a wall faced with an angry mob that just needed a gentle bedtime story and a glass of warm milk.

And then it just becomes a laundry list, fact by fact, fact by fact, memorize maps and stupid kings, and pottery that went by in one slide and then you complain to us when you hand back the exams. I thought I made this one easy for you guys. Some professors are just dicks. There’s this blog, Rate My Student, written by a uni prof; I only glanced at it because I could not stomach the self righteous stupid posturing for very long. Students are stupid and they are useless and I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job. Sometimes some students try to cheat I guess, and now this guy is the colour of Chinese jewellery, all jaded and snarky and boy these kids sure are stupid if they think they can pull one by the free world’s last defender of academic integrity. I’m sure other teachers love to read that kind of stuff, makes them feel tuff enuff, recharges their moral superiority for another week of grading papers, all of which are just awful awful hack jobs, by the way, made of mangled English and poorly cited references. What do they teach those little punks in high school anyway? Advanced Quoting of Wikipedia before lunch, and then Intro to the Extended Paraphrase, am I right?

I don’t know. I’m just disheartened at the idea of teachers talking about us in their staff rooms over weak coffee, comparing notes, topping each other with bad excuses they’ve heard - hey did I tell you about that one dumb kid who actually tried formally challenging a grade he got? Man it’s like they never learn.

Whatever. Some teachers don’t love their jobs as much as they should. I’ll deal. It’s not like I put any effort in for them. I’m probably their prototypical zombie student, star player in too many of their student complaints.

School school school. Still have to deal with another month of these funny games.

Aw man that was a total film reference right there. Don’t study film. Watching movies to get a degree sounds easy street but it does bad things to you. You lose perspective. Who knows what’s up or down. I mean, I can appreciate black and white movies now, which is nice, but you still have to share a theatre with a group of people who probably fantasize about fellating Ingmar Bergman. To study film you have suspend your disbelief, you have to convince yourself that movies are serious business, that four years of this stuff is worth the future debt. You have to deal with jerks who get worked up if you can’t sit through Bella Lugosi without giggling – look I’m sorry if film norms from seventy years ago look high camp today - dudes who watch films from Africa in their spare time and then pretend to enjoy them.

I don't know.

I don't need first year psych to know that I am all sorts of passive aggressive towards school. It manifests itself all over the place. Just so much lethargy. Just so much blah blah blah. Who knows the last time I emailed a TA. Who knows the last time I disputed a mark, asked for an extension, talked to a teacher after class. Late assignments, no assignments at all, maybe I should check my email soon, maybe I should actually go to school today, maybe I should start that essay, save the whales and make a cup of tea while I'm at it. I don’t know. Blah blah blah. Hit the snooze button four or five times. Man just make it six.

Hey, read this comic if you like grayscale and awkward pauses and stick figures with problems

http://picturesforsadchildren.com/index.php

This one makes me feel like everything is going to be ok one day.

Bachelorhood

My family is in a part of the country where snow in March is just non sequitor and I'm alone at home. It is good. It is ok. I like it. House to my self. I'm not naked, but I could be. That is a powerful thing to know. Anything I do here, I could do naked, and there wouldn't be any one to say anything. They could extend their March break and I wouldn't mind.

I've colonised the living room. It happened quickly. It felt weird sequestering myself in my room when the rest of the house was so empty. The tv is down here. I've parked my laptop here too. My room is a mess. Clothes from Saturday still lying everywhere. I should hang it all up I guess. But who's going to say anything.

I've been training my computer with its speech recognition software lately. The technology is not perfect and doing anything requires four times the effort of a single mouse click. However however however it is still delightful having your computer respond to your voice, in a quirky retro-futurist way, like I was in a IBM promo video from 1990. I told my mom this before they left, after she wondered what I would do with myself for a whole week. Don't worry mom, I have my computer to talk to, and she just laughed, and laughed.

I made real food the other day, out of a cook book with heat and ingredients and everything. I made a mess of it. It did not turn out right. I'm glad no one else was here because then they would have had to eat it and I would have had to endure their stares, their pained, confused stares that asked why? what did I ever do to you Horatio to deserve this? as they tried to choke down soggy vermicelli noodles. I couldn't get the food processor to work, and the noodles were almost done and I didn't know what to do so I mixed the peanut sauce by hand furiously trying to get some sort of consistency while the chicken was cooking and the noodles were overcooking. I drained the noodles but not very well and the water from the vermicelli mixed with the oil from the sauce, or didn't mix as it does, and the whole thing was an ugly mess. Wooo for bachelor life.

Just Don't Feel Like Class Today

just really don't feel like going to class today

yeah?

yeah

well...

i know i know i should

well yeah you should

don't think i will though

you know i'm all about doing what feels right

you think i should go though

i do

well...

don't let me stop you though

man...

what

don't guilt me like that

like what

like that all passive aggressive

hey no way. do what you have to do you know

i know

so you're not going

doesn't look like it

you could still make it if you left now

if i wanted to make it

yeah if you wanted to

i don't

just be sure about it

man you make such a big deal out of it

you are paying for it

well, i'm not

somebody is

yeah

somebody is paying for you to be there

it's not like i haven't done it before

yeah

i mean it's just one class

sure

it's not even a class

oh?

just a tutorial. an hour long

just a tutorial

yeah i mean it's no big deal. it's not like we do much

if you say so

just our awkward TA and a bunch of film snobs saying stupid stuff
like they can't even hear what they're saying

yeah tutorials can be pretty bad

and the awkward silences and the stupid little quizes.
that's what i get for taking a first year course

so you definitely aren't going

definitely not

slippery slope...

i know i know i know but don't worry

hey you're a responsible adult. who's worrying

man... people turning twenty all around me. i don't need any reminders

just go to class

and waste bus fare for an hour of class? i'm just going to turn around
and come right back you know

you don't have to come right back. there's stuff you can study

we know how that will turn out. it won't

hey whatever

it's now officially too late. can't make the bus

that's too bad. i was hoping you would reconsider

decision is out of my hands now

yeah blame the bus schedule

hey whatever. i'm an adult now and i get to define what that means

hahaha ok

what

what what

what's so funny

you'd sound more believable if you weren't still living at home

low blow

the statement stands.

you know the situation. hey and i have statistics. more and more kids stay home later.
it just makes financial sense

right no that's cool. just stop pretending to be all big and grown up then

man when do i ever act like i'm grown up ever. never. i'm not working under any
false pretenses here

yeah but that's more out of fear than anything else

you say that like being afraid to grow up is abnormal

whatever peter pan

i'm not even that scared. i'm kinda excited a little. nervous but cautiously
optimistic, you know

what do you have to be optimistic about

well...

that came out harsher than i meant it to

i don't even know what i'm optimistic about. school is awful

i gathered

i need a job, a decent ok steady job before i can even think about moving forward

what about school

what about school? school can jump off a bridge. i'll take a break

are you sure?

i'm hoping it will scare me into going back to school.

school or a life time in retail

yeah. either that or i'll realize i can do my own thing without having to go back.

i think that once you leave it might be hard to jump back in.

maybe. but then maybe that's the way it has to be. it's not like i'm on pace to
graduate any time soon.

if you left right now...

yeah, i'm really not going to class today.

People on the Subway

Just riding the subway home, you know, long day, it's cold out, don't feel like reading so I just watch. People on and off. This woman comes in, brown, young, older than me though, not a student I don't think, red toque and red gloves and black coat she sits down in the middle of three seats. Poor subway etiquette. A man sits down next to her, pure business, nice suit and nice shoes and nice jacket, nice haircut, nice jawline, where's the car today buddy? The woman doesn't move over even though she has an empty seat to her right. She must be new at this big city thing. Nobody has told her that the idea is to stay as far away from strangers as possible. They leave eventually and all I have is my reflection looking back at me now; he's slightly sinister there, stony faced and impassive, I keep waiting for him to wink at me, scratch his nose in defiance of my own limp arms.

A girl gets on, a tall, dark skinned teen-aged girl, slightly awkward in that way that growing kids are, in that way that makes you want to say hey, no, it gets better eventually, but there she is blocking me from that doppledanger, so I have to find somewhere else to look. The floor is dirty, melted snow and salt stains and the occasional newspaper. Are subways ever cleaned? Do they just accumulate dirt from the day they go into service to the day they retire, the grime and wear piling up for twenty years? Somebody must clean them.

At Pape a Greek girl gets on, and I know she's Greek because she has that look that Greek chicks get, the sense of power and confidence, the loud voice, she's probably named Toula, Vasoula, Maroula, and that hair: an explosion of blonde curls, more than can be reasonably explained, hair just splashing everywhere around her, how much does that cost to colour? I feel like I know her already. She's into clubbing, smoking, yelling, she has a condo probably, her parents bought it for her, subsidised it at least, after running that bakery for thirty-five years they have some money to spend. She speaks perfect Greek. She works as a secretary somewhere, somewhere nice; if the makeup is any indication she knows how to take of herself.

Right, anyway. I get off eventually too, me in the skinny jeans and the leather bomber jacket and the thinning blonde hair and the designer glasses with the scratched lenses. Is that what other people see? What pigeonhole do I get stuffed into? Assuming they even look. Everybody worrying about their own problems, everybody with their eyes down and the headphones on.

Listening to Strangers

Innis, second floor, is a good place to crash when you have those breaks that stretch their welcome. Is that even a common problem for university kids? I don't know. I've got such a tenuous hold on this pace anyway. I do my thing, and every one else does theirs and hopefully we both survive at the end. Innis is good because the place is lax and unwound and the students are all film buffs and eavesdropping on students who have invested OSAP dollars into watching movies is way more rewarding than eavesdropping on chemistry students, or math students, or whatever it is serious people with boring problems enroll in. I don't know. This was overheard, filtered, paraphrased, from snippets overheard on a quiet Monday afternoon. I have catching up to do. Nobody is ever going to offer me that money to work in Dubai at this rate.

He got a job offer in Dubai
Dubai?
Yeah I know. As an oil technician
Man
I know
That’s insane
They’re going to pay him 500,000 a year
What?
And he still has to think about it
Only Greg would have to think about it
I know
What’s Deb saying about it?
If my fiancé got offered a 500,000 dollar a year thing in Dubai I’d be all over it
To be fair it is a big change
Dubai is half way around the world
And they’re getting married
It’s a lot to go through all at once
Still, 500,000
Yeah, still if someone gave me a ticket to Dubai I’d take it
No hesitation?
None
Dubai is like on the other side of the world
I wonder what it’s like to live there
Yeah it must be crazy over there
It’s a big decision
Deb’s dad thinks Greg is stupid
Really?
It’s such a big opportunity
Yeah if he doesn’t take it
Hey guys
Oh hey
Hi
What’s your take
On what
Have you heard about Greg?
Who?
He doesn’t know Greg
Oh yeah
Who?
Well whatever. If you were offered a job in Dubai for 500,000 a year would you take it
Depends on what it is I guess
Oil technician
Yeah oil work
I don’t know anything about that stuff
Well if you did know
Why would I ever know about that
Ok, like if Chapters offered you 500,000 to move to Dubai

Talking To Strangers

I was sitting in the library's reading room - there are so many places to read and study all over the campus and once you find one or two you like, just good solid places where there are maybe a few couches to catch up on that sleep you've been cheating yourself of, you know, with plush, quicksand cushions that always help you remember that there really isn't anything else that needs doing right now; and probably some tables too so you can get some actual work done too if that's your thing; ideally there's some background noise going on as well, just regular conversations about the rent or that prof or molecular biology that exists right below the threshold so that you aren't distracted by things that do not matter, but at the same time are freed from the deathly vacuum that exists in other, more austere areas of the university, that grim, unsmiling silence that takes hold of the slightest rustle or the demurest cough and shares it intimately with everyone in around.

Right, I was in this reading room - they installed a cafe in it earlier this year, or maybe it was the year before, they proudly brew Starbucks you should know, but otherwise they are small and unobtrusive and while it has made the room a little louder, it's all just part of the atmosphere, just part of the knowledge that ideas are free flowing in the air all around you and that this room is alive with people, which can make all the difference - this reading room I was in, right, and I am sitting at a table, long, ugly, dark wood composite table, one of many, with my laptop in front of me - this is a laptop day today, not every day is blessed with my laptop because it is not everyday that I have scheduled six hours breaks in between my classes, and even if everyday did give me six hours of downtime, my laptop is a regular table shark, just a big massive beauty who does not take to being dragged around too well, not that my back is so crazy about the arrangement either, so we keep our excursions brief and infrequent - anyway I am plugged into my laptop, headphones in the jack and music on the media player and I am my own island, everything I said before about atmosphere to the contrary. I am trying to catch up on missed lectures, the professor too reliant on Powerpoint presentations and myself too reliant on snooze buttons, so this is my chance to catch up on Ancient Mesopotamia, the Babylonians are doing fine thanks, but watch out for those Hittites.

And then all that gets tossed away because she shows up and I am thrown into one of those weird situations that I try to avoid, that is specifically, interacting with other living people. It's a computer problem she has, the existential problem of this 21st century: how do I connect to the internet? We're both sporting Vista; OS's are OS's to me but there people out there with opinions and there's nothing more dangerous than than a person with an opinion, and I can see that this lady is quickly developing an unfavourable one for Microsoft's latest baby.

Something's not right, something's not right, the internet is so close, and so far, she's driving alongside the info highway desperate for that on ramp, desperate for a way in. She's come to the wrong guy; I turn my lappie on, I click that firefox, I type that password and I am good, there are no speed bumps, things work the way they should just like they always do and I do not ask questions of my technology. But things are all wrong for her. She pulls up a chair, woah hey buy a guy some dinner first, you know? but this social contract is already sealed and I am too nice a guy, too starved for human contact to turn her away, not that there was ever an option for that any way.

I try to help, I do, but it is clear that of the two I'm the slightly more computer literate, which spells trouble for both of us. I run through basic stuff, just kid games really, nothing that really gets at the problem, whatever it is, I don't know what goes on inside those things. I can access the net on my still functioning machine, and I do, but there is no help there, and still we are throwing ideas at that stubborn connection, always with that "Technology huh, what are you gonna do?" resigned smile and resignation. I'm bad with strangers, too worried about what they see in me, or maybe what they don't see so I'm a hurried ball of nervous energy. Attempts at conversation sputter, though we are friendly enough. Names are never exchanged, not necessary or wanted. We give up eventually. Technology has trumped man again, and she finds somewhere else to sit, reduced to listening to pleasant muzak while she waits for a techie somewhere to finish his lunch break or get bored of berating another lovable end user for getting that cold cut stuck in the CD drive.

I was sorry I couldn't help her, sorry I wasted both our time, sorry I couldn't be the white knight with a kiss on the cheek my only reward, sorry that computers are so necessary yet and so stupid.

Resolutions are in Vogue (Also Late)

I don't usually make New Years Resolutions, well, ever, but I've started thinking that this is a shame because though a lot of people think that they are hokey and meaningless and that inevitably by February you are the same ugly loser you were two months ago with all the same problems thoroughly unresolved, I've come around to just really appreciating the healthy and exciting optimism contained in just the act of making these resolutions. That's my first one, by the way, be more optimistic, and it's generally my guiding principle here. I think optimism will be in this year, I think we are due for a year where we tone down the cynicism and the snark and just say what we mean and not be ashamed to hope for the best.

That's what I want to do. I want to be real. Say what I mean, mean what I say and all that retro hokey jazz. Just screw irony and pretension and just say what I think, feel, do. I'm getting tired of liking things because they are ironic. That's not good enough anymore.

With that in mind, here's my list of resolutions, a list of targets and goals to aim for during the year. It's less about the concrete, say lose x pounds or whatever and more about putting myself in a new direction for the new year. This is what it's about guys. If I can look back in a year and say hey I did most/some of that stuff, this year will have been not a complete waste.

-Read more books
-Spend less time on the internet/computers in general
-Write more, blog less
-Drink tea
-Learn to cook
-Rediscover my normal sleep schedule
-Figure out my school situation
-Get a job
-Move out
-Travel