My dear, I’ve been dishonest…
when I said “I Love You”
the truth was so much greater
and when I said “I Missed You”
I could hardly live without you
and when I said “I Want You”
the truth is that I need you
without you, I feel imperfect
without you, I’m not sure I breathe
without you –
even for a moment –
I slip
and I only wish to fall
back into your arms
Recently I saw some graffiti that read, “9/11 was an inside job.” I couldn’t help but take a photo and disagree. See, I don’t think that this slogan is entirely accurate. I would have written something like, “9/11 Was Never Fully Investigated.”
As is the problem for most advocates, the people who are already on board with their idea nod enthusiastically, while the people who aren’t tend to… well, disagree. Engaging people long enough to hear your opinion is difficult, whether it’s completely substantiated or not. People want to feel comfortable, and conflicting opinions generally don’t inspire that feeling. I think that the best way to achieve this is through art, which can warm someone up to a level where their mind is provoked willingly. Graffiti, especially this particular graffiti with this particular message, will probably just turn someone away, possibly forever.
Granted, there are a great deal of effective graffiti artists out there. Banksy, for one, has a style that leaves people to figure out the message for themselves. I think that most people who see his art don’t feel as though their beliefs were intruded upon. A slogan like “9/11 was an inside job,” however, sort of feels intrusive. It’s an opinion presented as fact, and people can spot those kind of shenanigans from 1.6 kilometers away.
Personally, I think this idea runs along the same train of thought as the assertion that Kurt Cobain killed himself. The people that believe this generally look at his struggle with addiction and depression and use that as Absolute Proof, but it only takes the slightest peek at the surrounding facts to realize how suspicious the entire incident was. And regardless of one’s opinion, an official police investigation was never done, and the only definite conclusion that anyone can come to is that he died.
Case in point, the only definite conclusion that we can come to about 9/11 is that the World Trade Center was destroyed, many innocent people were killed, a vague definition of terrorists were blamed, and countries that may or may not have been involved were attacked in retaliation. And then, because of this, many, many more innocent people died.
It’s hard to believe that this year will be the ten-year anniversary of 9/11. Some people are satisfied with The Official Story. Some people aren’t. But as each day passes, that difference of opinion becomes less relevant; eventually, as history goes, what did or did not happen becomes subjective to who tells it. Meaning, of course, opinion. Presented as fact. Only in this case, the shenanigans are harder to spot.
I think it’s important to be skeptical and objective. This world’s a crazy place, and some opinions aren’t necessarily true just because they’re asserted. Just like this one.
Almost a year ago, I had finished eating an avocado and decided to put the seed in a planter. A few months later there was a stem sprouting from the seed, with some little green leaves flourishing at the top! I was fascinated by the insistence of life, which is what inspired me to plant a balcony garden. I’ve taken pictures of Little Avi’s progress over time, such as the day he got his own place. He loves his new digs.
On the way home last night I shared a taxi with an Austrian couple. They’d been in Vancouver for six months, and I asked what they thought about it so far. In Austria, he said, he only paid fifteen dollars a month for the equivalent cell phone package he has now. Here, though, he pays sixty. To be honest, mine is even more than that, which is all very absurd. Those companies must return substantial profits.
There’s a lot of growth in that industry these days.
Leave it to a night at the bar to remind me why I spend very few nights at bars. When I was younger, I didn’t mind that the music was too loud, and I didn’t mind that it was too cramped. I guess this is one of the hundred other indicators that I’m getting older.
Avi too. Just under a year old, and just over a meter tall. He’s a perfect reminder that if the conditions are right, you have to use the opportunity to thrive. Do something you love doing long enough and it’s bound to pay off. Otherwise, who knows, maybe you didn’t really love it as much as you thought.
Without exaggeration, I can say that I haven’t been this excited about music in a long time. I’ve been exploring my guitar again, and now there’s a beautiful puzzle unlocking at my fingertips. I’m seeing sounds as shapes now, hearing subtleties I’ve never noticed. A complex system of notes and patterns that make sense in a way I’ve never known. For the first time in fifteen years, I’m starting to understand this instrument. It’s all very, very exciting.
On a related note, the Great Big Project is becoming more defined. All these stray ideas are coming together in harmony; characters are developing, plot is advancing, conflict is building. I used to know how it was all going to end, but now I’m not so sure. Even I can’t predict it any more.
I’ve been looking at various web sites that may help me develop my own future. I’m seeing opportunities at every inconvenience. Possibilities. There’s a theory that exists wherein every possible decision creates its own alternate universe. In one of them I might be a pilot, in another a rock star, and in another I’m sitting here in this same chair with a different shirt on. Nobody really knows where any decision will lead, but I think that when we do what we love, we compile good decisions that lead to good outcomes.
I’ve got a pretty solid compilation going on. Let’s see how this all plays out.
These are the conditions where Vancouver shuts down. Overnight snow, morning rain, a city covered in dreary frozen slush. I saw a bus this morning give up at Vine Street, and you can tell everyone feels the same way. In this weather, the city just stands still, a remarkable feat for such a busy place.
Last week I was the key witness of an assault. The mindlessness of it all sits in my memory, reminding me of how sudden everything can be. We’re in such a rush that we lose our minds over things that don’t matter.
Maybe this weather is the universe telling us to slow down. Racing from one moment to the next, we barely see the blur in-between.
This new year has aged me. We do grown-up things without even noticing them, and then one day it all catches up. We realize exactly where we are.
Be mindful that time does pass by, that good things do come, and then go. Each moment will be the only one like it. Focus. Make it the one you want.
This Comicle has been been kicking around in my head for a long time now. In it, a generic Animal Welfare Society is raising money by selling hot dogs. The idea didn’t just spring up out of nowhere, though, it’s based on something that I actually saw years ago. See, even before I stopped eating animals, I knew that hot dogs were made from various animal parts. You can imagine how surprised I was to see this booth raising money to save some animals by cooking other animals.
Some people don’t have a problem with this irony, though. There’s a fairly prevalent belief that some animals deserve our compassion while others do not, an opinion often based on things like cultural traditions, animal personalities, appearance, and taste. I no longer share this belief. I think it’s an outdated habit that we could all benefit from revising, because after all, isn’t that how societies evolve, by changing the habits that no longer quite make sense?
The day started with bedsheets pulled up over my head. Some sour thought nagged at the back of my mind, warning me not to get out of bed. But I did anyway, forcing myself into the day. Maybe a hot shower would wash the hollow feeling somewhere far, far from me. But the water was hot and that was all. My mood did not change, did not drip from my body as I stood in the tub cold and wet.
I tried curling up on the bed again, but I couldn’t stay there. I left home like a child. Angry, upset, scared. I did not lock the door behind me. Continued…
Using public transportation is a great way to get around the city. Under ideal conditions, it is efficient and reliable, and you’re never standing on a crowded and overheated bus as it inches toward a traffic jam caused by a parking dispute. This of course leads to the ongoing debate of pulling in versus backing in. I don’t know if there is an actual law, so I won’t pressure you with my opinion except to say that I’m with George on this one.
Typical gray winter days loom over Vancouver, ruining nearly everyone’s Corn Flakes. If it’s not currently raining, it’s either just stopped or it’s about to start. Usually both. This relentlessly wet weather brings out the Irresponsible Umbrella Owners, a secret society that I’m convinced is dedicated to poking out my eyes. As a person of above-average height, you can imagine my perfectly rational fear of these people. They’ve yet to connect with more than a scratch, but I have once again initiated my seasonal defense mode. Oh yes, it’s on.
A few weeks ago there was a suspicious incident with a local specialty supermarket. Early one morning, I saw that fire investigators had it all roped off and were inside beeping and reasoning. A sign on the door now says that it was declared arson, and as I’ve learned from movies, arson is always suspicious. Hypothetically, if there were a supermarket of similar specialty in the same area, this would be an opportune motive to shut them down and ruin their inventory. But hey, draw your own conclusions, I’m just spreading gossip.
There’s an underlying frustration during the holidays that can’t quite be obscured by massive sales and Salvation Army carolers. People with no time, no patience, no money, whatever. It affects drivers, pedestrians, and grocers alike, and you can either let it affect you or let it pass right through. Lately I’m a ‘pass through’ kind of fellow, and when the seasonal madness approaches, I grab a rum-and-nog and relax by the imitation fireplace with my best gal.
One by one, the pieces fall down, down, resting for a moment on the water before being pulled away forever. Henry treats the photos like strangers. He does not want to recognize more than he has to, more than he already does. It all feels like the day before, when he still had her.
This was the day they met. Summer camp, twelve years old, she was fourteen, wearing a Road to Ruin t-shirt. He had the same poster at home, that’s what they talked about. Nobody else in the photo matters, just him and Lisa, side by side. She wrote her address on the back. It rests for a moment and then is gone.
When he was fifteen, he performed in Chicago. She came out to see him, to witness the unscheduled solo they joked about. He was kicked out of band class for it, but he had to, Lisa dared him. Her laugh was in perfect harmony.
That was the day he told her that he loved her, but this too falls and is lost forever.
Yesterday, they were dancing at their wedding. In her beautiful white gown, in his black suit, flailing wildly to the music. Laughing. This was their joke together, to play Sedated as their first dance.
And then they are torn from that day, and they fall in pieces to the water.
He remembers everything she said, every gesture, every smile. Oh, that smile, it always leaves him breathless, and then the memory gently fades. Down, down, and gone forever.
As discovered in a box of teen angst, the third from my Nowhere triptych. (The first and second are elsewhere.)
There are things in this world we choose not to see
Things forgotten or chosen from greed
And the more you forget, the more that you learn
Anything we build will eventually burn
Nothing we do is worth being done
The thrill of the kill is not worth the hunt
It’s more fun to cry than it is fun to bleed
We arrive at the ends by ignoring the means
So beat me clever without caution or care
Determine my doom if you desire or dare
And snake my eyes right from the bone
Only then will it make a loser alone
