generation y give a shit?

there's nothing more depressing than getting up to go to work when it's still dark outside, and then getting off work... and it's still dark outside. during the winter, if you work a 9-5 job, chances are, you missed the day. in my case, it's even worse because i work 10 hour days, so it wasn't until last saturday that i could finally still see daylight when i got off work. the streets were bathed with this eerie, sundown glow where everything was golden, from the buildings to the streets to the cars. it's then that it occurred to me more than ever, that working in a cubicle for 10 hours a day isn't right.

humans weren't meant to live this way.

it's no wonder that a generation of people, my generation, those on the tail end of so-called generation x, a generation possibly even more vacuous and directionless than those who were firmly at the heart of generation x in the 1990's, are basically going nuts. we're freaking out, having mid-life crisis before we're thirty. some of us even still live with our parents, while others return to school in a vain attempt to escape our failures in the working world. it's a mad, mad world out there, and we don't want any part of it. it's just easier to stay at home, play xbox and masturbate.

of course i'm generalizing here, but you get my drift: live to work, work to live. but where's the living? somewhere along the line that part of the equation got lost. it's more like live to work, work to exist. to eat. but existence isn't living. existence is just taking up space.

and what is there to look forward to? an existence of botox injections and organic consumption? is that what our claim to fame is going to be? to be proud that we eat organic food when in reality the types of toxins in every day life, in your home, in the atmosphere, in your clothes sort of negates anything you do? sure, that person who works out all the time and always eats organic foods may be in better shape than you, but does it mean they'll live longer than you because you eat genetically modified foods (the vast majority of foods these days)? hardly. trust me... in the end, the worms aren't going to care what you put into your body. dead meat is dead meat. and does it mean they're less toxic than you? if they live in a major urban centre, they're walking toxic bags of flesh just like you. the good thing, is our bodies have adapted and despite all of that, we still live longer than we used to.

sixty years ago, that generation beat hitler. the boomers after that lived through the cold war and beat the soviet union. the bulk of generation x... well, they sort of existed and are now only reaping most of the benefits of what the boomers paved the way for. plus, they had that movie, reality bites. you know, the one where ethan hawke is a bum and ben stiller was just starting to annoy the shit out of everyone. that movie basically sums up that generation perfectly: overrated. but us? those at the tail end of generation x... those 'twixters' or 'boomer-rang kids' who still live with our parents, or who are still trying to find our way and discover who we are when we're in our late twenties... what is our claim to fame?

is it to defeat terrorism? right. if you believe that we'll defeat terrorism the way were going about it now, you've got delusions, because i'll tell you right now, you don't defeat terrorism with bombs and bullets. yes, you kill flesh and blood terrorists that way, but you don't solve the problem. you kill one terrorist, another three pop up on their place. the only real way to solve it is to chip away at the root causes of terrorism, being social and civil inequalities as just one of many institutional reasons. this is a man-made problem, and one that can be fixed - or more realistically, maintained - just not how we're currently doing it.

what about the environment? are we poised to make the ultimate paradigm shift of this and any other generation when it comes to consumption and the relationship with the earth? it doesn't matter how you look at it, but we only have one earth. whether you believe in global warming or not, we only have one home. and despite what science fiction writers may like to propose, the future of inhabiting other planets is a pipe dream. if we can barely land a rover on mars, the chances of us relocating the human population to another planet is nowhere near remotely possible right now.

so we need to fix what we have. but the problem is, are you sacrificing enough? certainly, sold my car in favor of the bus. i rollerblade to the grocery store, i consume far less than i have in the past by purchasing only what i need, i recycle, i changed all the lights in my apartment to energy efficient ones... but i could probably do more. none of what i have done has hampered my lifestyle any. and there's where the fear is with trying to be environmental... people don't want to give up their lifestyles. but the truth is, if we're going to change things, we need to really sacrifice. that means that buying a fuel efficient car is not something to be proud of if in reality, you can take the bus or bike to work and you just don't want to.

this problem is obviously bigger than the individual. it's something where the excuse of just not wanting to or not feeling like it isn't going to cut it anymore. so our generation has a shot at changing things, or setting a new precedent in the way we think about how we live and consume in our lives. if nothing else, riding a bike to work should help you lose weight, and we all know how much of a concern weight is in our society. look at it this way: you and your granola crunching, organic food loving neighbor will ultimately face the same fate in the end. at least if you're trying to be environmental and riding that bike to work, you'll not only help reduce the dependence on foreign oil, (which helps fight terrorism) but you'll also leave a good looking corpse. and really, that's all that matters to us, isn't it? to just look good doing whatever it is that we're doing.

it may not be as glorifying as taking down the kaiser or knocking off hitler... but at least it's something. it sure beats simply existing.

here is the latest clip of bill maher and the gang discussing global warming and the act of sacrifice:

just a few...

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

just a few quick personal notes, aside from the doom and gloom politics of this little blue marble we call earth:

i've started a photo blog called scene 3. i'm still working on the format and layout, but basically, it's just a blog with panoramic photos of various scenes i have shot around the city of vancouver like the one included here and as the header at the top of this blog. i'll be updating it periodically whenever i have the time to take photos.

i will be going on a half month road trip with a couple of friends through the united states in mid july that will take me from vancouver, bc, all the way down the pacific coast to san diego. from there, we'll head over to las vegas and spend some time in the desert before going back up through colorado for some hiking and camping, maybe hang out on the bonneville salt flats. the goal on the way down is to behave as beach bums and head on down through places like big sur and santa barbara. apparently my friend knows people that we'll be staying with in san diego who own an actual mansion. i've never been in a mansion. should be interesting. basically, this is the jack kerouac pancake breakfast tour of america that i've always wanted to do.

i will be taking a digital camcorder to shoot some footage. i want it to be more like a personal documentary, but i have a feeling it will just degrade to me and my friends acting like assholes on camera, which is fine by me.

anyway, i will hopefully be posting some great panoramic photos from the trip on my new blog, scene 3. in the next couple of weeks, i have time off work so i'll be able to take more photos of vancouver, not just cityscapes. so check up on it from time to time. any suggestions on the new site would be greatly appreciated.



i'm a fan, no doubt. you can always count on him to do something interesting. long live banksy.

guantanamo bay in disneyland. it's a small world after all.



ayaan hirsi ali, dutch feminist and political writer, was born into a muslim family in somalia. she escaped her arranged marriage and ended up in the netherlands where she gained notoriety as a vocal opponent to the treatment of women by the religion of islam. she participated in a controversial film with theo van gogh, which was about the subjugation and suffering of muslim women in forced marriages and wife beatings. theo van gogh was murdered by an angry muslim radical as a response and death threats were issued.

she has written a new book called infidel, which is a memoir, and as she goes to promote her book, she continues her criticism against islam. she comes out and says plainly that islam is not a religion of peace. she describes the quran as "not a holy document. it is a historical record, written by humans. . . . and it is a very tribal and arab version of events. it spreads a culture that is brutal, bigoted, fixated on controlling women, and harsh in war."

i haven't read her book, but i've seen many interviews with her and she comes across as a very compelling person to listen to. despite being very soft spoken, it is clear she always says what she believes and believes what she says. one of those beliefs is that islam is not a religion of peace. this is something most people are afraid to say in public due to its lack of any political correctness. sometimes it seems that political correctness tends to stifle what could otherwise be intelligent and interesting debate.

it certainly is a bold and seemingly heart-felt view she has, and after what she's been though, you can't blame her for feeling the way she does. certainly over the last few years, some muslims have been shown to be less than tolerant of any sort of criticism against islam or the prophet mohammed, usually resorting to violence which doesn't help the public perception of islam at all. all this seems to highlight the view that not all religions are the same.

there are some very interesting questions that come about due to all of this, such as whether or not a religion - violent or not - is just what one makes of it? and why does it seem that muslims tend to be more violent than followers of other religions? most muslims don't behave the way they are shown on television, so is it simply a case of media bias? or is there something inherently violent about islam as she implies?

regardless, religions make an already complicated world that much more complicated and harder to live in. and whatever you think of her views, you have to respect how brave and courageous she is. and you have to love the fact that she is free to voice those opinions.

here is a clip of
ayaan hirsi ali on real time with bill maher:


blackwater usa

private military contractors are nothing new. they've been around in one form or another since humans have been finding ways to kill each other. because wherever there is war, there are profits. these contractors are basically mercenaries, except with logo branding and better funding. funding from where? well, the united states government.

private military contracting has become a lucrative industry, and it's only gotten bigger as these businesses become corporations. there was heavy activity by mercs in sierra leone and other parts of africa during the 1990's, working primarily as security forces protecting diamond mines and other resources that "belonged" to various corporations. and now, as they've grown in popularity, one of the biggest, blackwater usa, has become quite an issue in iraq.

blackwater usa is one of the companies that the u.s. government has been using to contract out various security details, logistics, as well as other more unsavory missions. although some of these fighters used to be soldiers, they are technically not soldiers anymore, and they're not even police officers; they're a legal quagmire, like so much of what this whole so-called war on terror has produced: from guantanamo bay to blackwater usa.

because they seemingly work without regard to the law, and because these aren't your regular combatants, there is a huge problem if they ever get caught, if they get killed... but as far as the u.s. government is concerned, they are just hired guns. does it matter if they get killed? i guess not. and what of the crimes that they commit? do their victims matter? probably not. at least not in any traditional legal sense, because nothing seems to get logged or recorded statistically and no one gets punished.

what the iraq war is doing is providing some interesting precedence. we have a situation where for the first time, the u.s. government is flagrantly ignoring the geneva conventions, where the u.s. government has taken away the right of habeas corpus from its own citizens no less, where private military personnel are now becoming part of growing corporations with government backing. all this goes to blur the line between combatants and soldiers. i wouldn't be surprised if a whole new crop of international laws come to pass as a reaction to this increasingly murky grey political and legal area.

the problem with the law is that there is hardly any foresight, if ever. you can't legislate what you don't anticipate, and a lot of the times even if you do anticipate it, chances are it doesn't become law until the damage is already done. the law tends to be reactionary more than anything, especially in international law. and most of it is based on previous case studies and laws, as opposed to precedent setting rules. and on top of this, in order for international law to be effective, you need the superpower on board (re: see geneva conventions).

and since the u.s. government is the one allowing this to go on in the first place, chances are pretty slim that they will ever sign on to any international agreement limiting their ability to wage war unless there is a public outcry. because grey armies like blackwater usa are effective both militarily and politically. better they get killed than actual soldiers. the prime example being the difference between the mogadishu incident where u.s. troops got strung up and dragged through the streets versus the blackwater employees enduring the same thing in iraq. if it had been u.s. troops, reaction would have been much more different domestically.

the following is a video from the nation, giving a brief overview of blackwater usa and their activities. it's interesting, and it points out how blackwater usa employees are now operating on the streets in certain u.s. cities, possibly bringing their legal and moral problems onto home soil. blackwater usa seems to be a cut above the rest, not content to simply provide security for corporations and governments overseas and out of bounds of prying eyes. instead, they seem to be actively seeking the domestic market. and who can blame them? there's money to be had.


the butler did it

khalid sheikh mohammed, the suspected mastermind of the sept. 11 attacks on the united states confessed to those attacks and to personally executing american journalist daniel pearl, according to a revised transcript released thursday by the u.s. military. there are suggestions that his confession was taken under torture, that this just seems too good to be true. certainly, it makes him out to be what the media and the bush administration had dubbed him to be: the mastermind, which makes him seem like the lovechild of dr. claw and the emperor from star wars.

i do think the questions about how the confession was taken are important, because let's face it; when it comes to torture, the bush administration loses all sorts of credibility. these questions are also important if mohammed does in fact implicate others. but i also wouldn't put it past the guy to just admit to it all. after all, he's going to die. certainly the united states government won't let him walk, and with a former texas governor in power, the death penalty seems certain. so if you were mohammed... why not confess to it all?

if you're going to go out, why not go out big with a bang? why not admit to it all and become the martyr? it seems to make sense. we'll see how it develops though. wouldn't it be interesting if weeks later, mohammed all of a sudden changes his mind and claims he was tortured? those fireworks should be interesting. i can already see it now: human rights groups will be demonized as sympathisers, and the administration, as always, will deny that gravity exists if you know what i mean.


three wise men

i wonder what could have been? it seems like there's been a lot of that lately. and watching jon stewart's interview of zbigniew brzezinski doesn't help. brzezinski used to be the national security advisor to president jimmy carter. his new book, second chance: three presidents and the crisis of american superpower is about how the united states basically fumbled the momentum from a vitally turning point in world history: the end of the cold war.

brzezinski's point is that the united states, having unprecedented power, managed to squander that prestige and authority in a very short time over the span of three administrations. when given the chance to really make change, and to usher in a true american, western-style hegemony, they failed.

it's an interesting point he brings up. the larger question seems to be, does the united states have a responsibility to the rest of the world? one would like to think that yes, they do. and while people rag on all the terrible things the united states has done especially in the last eight years (and i'm not giving the administrations a pass on the bad things), you have to sort of put things into perspective. compared to the old british empire and the roman one before it... the united states has become as benign a superpower as you could possibly expect it to become. especially one that is the sole superpower. i guess what i'm saying is that the united states has done a lot of good in this world besides the bad, and it can be much worse but it isn't.

and in a world where a superpower can be shaken and even defeated by what amounts to nothing more than tribes, in asymmetrical guerrilla warfare/military conflicts, i'd say the stranglehold that the united states has on sole dominance in the world is a half-nelson at best.

still, one wonders what it could have been like. what this world would have been like if the unites states had succeeded in somalia, if they had reacted more appropriately after the yemen attack on the u.s.s. cole, if they had kept the pursuit of osama, if instead of iraq, they'd taken on saudi arabia (most of the 9/11 hijackers were from saudi arabia)? that's a lot of "ifs."

Video sent by littlepiggy13


the electric car

the electric car has been around for over a hundred years. i often wonder what the world could have been like if production and development on the electric car had just followed through. now, i am not naive to believe that there would be no war today if the electric car had beat out the gas models back in the day, because let's face it: humans suck. we will always find one thing or another to fight over. if it's not oil in the middle east, it's religion. if it's not religion, it's fresh water. if it's not fresh water, it's over farm land. and so on.

i can understand why governments and businesses were reluctant to push the electric car as well as other "green" initiatives such as the search for alternative fuels. i understand that ten years ago, it just didn't seem to be such a threatening issue. at least not enough to go to the polls over. but now, it seems the consensus is there that we should do something. and we know what we should do. and people say they are willing to sacrifice. but how much?

even if global warming is a natural phenomenon, and even if what we do doesn't matter, why not do it simply on a practical level? in a capitalist system that is supposed to spur competition and the development of new technologies, why not mass produce affordable electric cars? why not put money towards developing alternative fuel sources? why not put the time and effort to design that powerful catch-all fuel cell? after all, this is clearly the way the world is heading. why are some companies and people still so reluctant? this is our chance to be ahead of the curve for once.

i guess the answer simply lies in my original comment: humans suck. unless there is a clear and present danger, change rarely comes about. and i suppose businesses are always trying to subvert change, to hold onto the money and advantage as long as they can, thereby stifling development. the positive in this is that the general public is starting to care, and there is a push now to hold elected officials accountable for green promises, precisely because of the perceived notion that the window of opportunity for change is so small now.

in all honesty, i do think the earth can adapt and adjust to the things we're doing to it, but to a certain extent. i don't think we've passed the point of no return yet, so there's hope yet.

(source 1)


aye, there's the rub

so i got word from the good people at the trademark department with the federal government that it would cost me another grand or so to get conquered nation press trademarked. but i've decided to let it go. "abandoned" as they would consider it in the world of trademarks.

why? i've come to the conclusion that a) i don't want to spend the money on trademarking a company name that i don't really have the time and energy to devote to anyway. b) i want to spend my money on travelling. c) writing isn't that important to me anymore.

there was a time when i was purely devoted to the craft. but that was when i had nothing else going for me. now, i've sort of got a career going, i'm getting recognition at work and being rewarded for it, and i've got a future laid out for me in finances and investments. definitely not where i saw myself a couple of years ago, but then, i was still the idealist working a minimum wage job thinking i could change the world with my writing. or at least get famous and get chicks.

but sooner or later eventually reality hits everyone, and those starry-eyed fantasies and dreams go the way of the dodo bird. it was nice to have them while they lasted; writing surely got me through some bizarre times. it's very much a solo venture, but you eventually get bored with yourself.

there are many reasons why i've chosen to stop, reasons that don't really mean anything to anyone exept myself. but all that need to be known is that i haven't finished giants yet. nor do i think i will. i mean, technically i could possibly end it where it is, but that would leave absolutely no closure, and it's really not where i want to end it. so it has been shelved indefinitely. the realization came to me about a week ago that i just didn't have it anymore. no more ideas, no more plot twists, no more of anything. and to tell you the truth, i don't feel bad about it either. a couple of years ago, i would basically torture myself in trying to get a novel done. now, well, it doesn't really matter. i don't feel bad at all shoving it all aside. perhaps i will turn to it again some day, but it just feels like the right time to let it go. whatever the reasons, i don't need to write like i used to; i don't need it to live. it doesn't define me as a person.

that being said, politik1 will probably focus less on writing, and slowly morph more into a political blog (as if there needs to be another one) but i'll still post music i like and do some movie posts. this blog will also retain more of a pulpy feel. there's no need to be so serious all the time, even in the face of mind numbing human catastrophes. after all, i can pretty much laugh at anything. you're looking at a guy who was making tsunami jokes the day of the tsunami. does that make me a bad person? probably. it's a good thing there's no hell. ha!

i'm just going to finish off this posting with a bit from giants. it is the first few pages of the book. i posted this in one form or another in the past, but this is pretty much the best start that i have written to any of my novels. (at this stage i would warn you that there is some bad language in the piece, but no one gives a shit about books, so it's all good. it's why as a teenager, i could purchase the most violent, gory and sexual book, yet still couldn't go into an r-rated movie. go figure.)

- - -

Scene. Her thong is a good a place to start. Black. Dangling from the silver towel rack. And her arms, the next best place to start. Tight around him. Her face, buried close against the nape of his neck. Her chest tight against his back, her legs draw up behind his with her knees snug, locked into the back of his. Her long, wispy blond hair is in her face, with her eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids. The eyelashes are long and black and thick. Her skin, pale and lightly freckled with golden spots. Her nose is small. Her lips are pink and slightly parted, breathing evenly, warmly against the back of his neck. She’s soft, young, her body still clinging to what little teenage fat she still had left. The room, white, bright, and empty; she clings to him amongst the white sheets, an island amongst a sea of rough, worn, hardwood floor. Her long, naked leg is exposed, twisted in the covers like a Pirelli photo. Four in the afternoon, babies don’t sleep this well. The pursuit of pleasure is tiresome. In the warmth of the room, the blinding whiteness, she stirs and opens her eyes slowly. She sits up and looks at him, with his slightly long, shaggy black hair. She slips out of the bed carefully. The bra, the only article of clothing she’s wearing, stands in striking black lines that cut through all the whiteness. Contrast. Stand out. She goes to the washroom, long white legs and all, and sits her bare bum down on the toilet. She finds her black panties hanging from the towel rack and slips them on when she’s done. She wanders back to the bed and snuggles up behind him. She looks at the nape of the strange neck before her. Light, sparse black hair along the neck. It’s unfamiliar but she presses her face against it. The pursuit of pleasure. It’s tiresome.

- - -

John grabs the clear plastic jug and rinses it out in the sink. He scratches his bare stomach. He goes into the refrigerator and grabs a can of frozen raspberry concentrate. Opening the can, he spills the contents into the jug. The log of juice splatters against the bottom of the jug and there’s blow back. He flinches as the red stuff flies up to splash him in his eye. He blinks rapidly and rubs the back of his hand into his eye, smearing the juice around further. He glances at his reflection in the stainless steel silver toaster. There’s blood in his eye. After mixing the drink, he wanders back to the bedroom where she’s still sleeping. He takes a second to look at her, the sharpness of her chin, the curious familiarity of strangeness. He pours himself a glass and sits down on the bed, causing it to shift slightly. This is enough to disturb her. She opens her eyes and turns to him. Gazing. He accidentally spills some raspberry juice on the white covers and watches with dismay. The red splotches grow deep and expand. Circumference increasing. Fight the fabric. Winning. Here’s to all the rivals. She just looks at him, watching the expression change on his face.

- - -

Free space. Sean touches her face and examines the large image framed on the wall behind tepid glass and boxed in by clean, black lines. The image is white. The image is three feet by two. The framed image is completely blank. White. One dimensional. She buttons up her shirt, his shirt, charcoal grey with pin stripes, and touches the clean glass, leaving fingerprints. She gathers up the shirt that hangs bulky off her slender frame, and wanders across the ocean of hardwood and takes a seat at the table. She watches him drown the little brown coco bits. A tsunami of white, creamy milk. They bob in the fluid liquid and it makes her smile. Obviously. Man overboard. One of them pops its head up over the milk and she reaches over to plunk it back down. He pours her a bowl of cereal and then peers inside and pulls out a shrink-wrapped prize.
- Pass the milk? Sean says. What’s the toy?
- A truck.
- That’s nice.
- Got a winch on it. He touches it.
- What’s it do?
- Winches.
- It’s red. I don’t like red. She scrunches her nose.
- It was free.
- With a purchase.
- So?
- At least you can eat the cereal.
- So?
- Never mind.
- What are you doing today?
- Gonna dream of a world beyond diamonds and gold. She smiles.
- That’s nice.
- Diamonds are forever.
- False. Diamonds eventually decompose.
- What?
- They’re unstable on Earth’s surface ‘cause they’re formed at very high temperatures and pressure deep below the surface. Everything has a half life. Even God.
- Jesus, how un-sexy was that?
- Sorry.
- Don’t apologize.
- So… He pokes at his cereal with his spoon.
- So…?
- What’s your name?

- - -

Tonight. Sean takes a sip of the champagne, sparkling golden hues with frothy, bubbling head. Alien nation. It’s the theme of the event, the art show. People wander through and around and beyond the photos that display faces, some overexposed, some underexposed, all black and white, all displaying one emotion: apathy. the photos are headshots, blown up so large that one can see every single visible pore. Heads, blown up six feet tall, four feet wide. This one, the one with the young blond girl with the slightly long nose and wet, slicked back hair is called grace under pressure. Another, a black and white of a young man with a patchy beard is fire it up. Another, a man wearing a toque, is called head space no space. And so on and so forth… In the background, the music of Interpol plays, with the echo from Next Exit’s droning vocals and hymn-like rhythm slowly filling the empty spaces of the gallery. Going all over. Every square inch. It’s killer filler.

Sean folds her slender arms and turns to Norm, who admires the photo for all it’s worth through a pair of thick, large lens, horn-rimmed Rayban sunglasses.
- What’s the deal with this one?
- What do you mean by that?
- It’s torn. The corner. He touches the bottom right corner of the image of an elderly woman.
- Oh, that. One of the interns dropped it. She leans over. Anyone asks, it’s a statement on the breakdown of civilization. Empires crumble.
- You smell good.
- I know. She leans over and kisses Norm on the cheek. Don’t kill me, but you look sexy.
- Shouldn’t say such things, babe.
- I can’t see your eyes. Don’t wear your sunglasses at night.
- It’s so I can, so I can see the light that’s right before my eyes.
- That’s funny, Normandy.
- Don’t call me that. Only my mother calls me that.
- I’m naming my first child that.
- Where’s John Doe?
- Oh, he’s around. She brushes her fingers over his shoulders, flicking away a few pieces of lint on his navy blue suit.
- Yeah? So what’s his deal?
- He’s preoccupied with his own history. Just stay away.
- Beware of dog, ha ha.
- Fucking rabies, baby.
She turns back to the photo and takes another sip of her champagne. She picks at her dark brown dress that fits close and strapless against her frame. She pretends to watch the photo stand still but really has her sight on Norm by the corner of her eye. Norm tilts his head to the side and sniffs and she offers him her champagne which he finishes. He puts the glass down on the floor and walks away. She asks him something but he doesn’t respond. Sean doesn’t watch him go. She hugs herself. She stands there until a blond walks up next to her and asks,
– What’s the deal with this one?

- - -

Going. Along the wall, the beetle crawls. Going. Into the corner the beetle scurries. Going. Down the crack it squeezes through. Gone. Legs and blazing armour and all. A long way down town. Absolutely gone. John rubs the back of his neck as he watches Sean lean over and kiss Norm on the cheek. This is a wasteland now, he thinks. Sean is wearing her favourite color: chocolate brown. A girl comes over, decked out in a white blouse with black vest and slacks with a black bow tie, carrying a tray flat against her upturned palm. She’s got his scotch on the rocks. He takes it and watches her walk away in her heels. John takes a whiff of the sweet vanilla liquid before taking a sip. The ice presses against his upper lip, contrasting a chill against the warmth and eventual burn of the scotch.

He watches her, Sean, moving amongst the crowd smoothly, consistently. As if on ice. He watches the expressions on her face, or lack there of sometimes; how she could seem a bit cold at times, expressionless. Her finely sculpted cheek bones, her frosty blue eyes that would examine you lazily from under finely plucked eyebrows, razor thin. Her blank looks made you feel she was indifferent to you; stuck up. Like you didn’t matter. Non-existent. But then there would be that moment when all of a sudden there is a burst of expression and affection in her face, how she’d laugh and those fine eyebrows would arch upward and her eyes would emote all that she is, burning away the frost. If only for a brief moment. And how confident she seemed; to know everything at such a young age. How despite some extra weight in certain areas, she is not self conscious at all. Like she knows and is in complete ownership of every square inch of her flesh. He notices that she’s wearing the silver ankle bracelet he likes so much. Next he’s thinking of taking it off her ankle. Hand rubbing down the calf. Slowly.

She chats with a blond, a hard body. No doubt someone who’s here just because. Because is the perfect reason these days. Because I want. Because I can. Because… just because. She glances at him from over her shoulder and smiles at him, giving him a childish flick of her wrist. Sometimes he forgets just how young she really is. But talent and looks sometimes intersect, sometimes in someone young, and when it does, it’s tough to let that ship pass by. Get on it. Especially if she’s willing. Hungry. Naked, she’s a peach. Smooth. It’s how she does it. Those fucking lips. A lifeline she is in his memories. He often wonders how it is she found her way to this windy city. Because you can see California in her hair.

All the others, suits and cocktail dresses, emphasis on cock. They talk about everything yet nothing at the same time. Talking about who haute couture and if there is a comeback. Talking about if the Left will ever get it right. Talking about a man found under the bridge with his head, hands and feet missing. And through all this, they meander on by. Not a care in the world. Like this world is better than the next, like the next doesn’t even exist. Like werewolves. Or vampires. Phantom planets and phantom pains, but with real, real death. Baked on existence. A yuppie gang-bang. Circle. Jerk.

She sits herself down on the couch next to John who manages a smile at her. She sighs and puts her arm around his neck, drawing her legs up. She’s slight and curved. She mentions to John how much she likes the charcoal suit and emphasises this by tugging on his collar. She thanks him for wearing it and he smiles like he means it. She examines him with a cool indifference before asking what he thinks of the artwork.
- It is possibly the most vacuous collection I have ever seen.
- Seriously, tell me what you really feel.
- I’m sorry.
- No you’re not. She turns away. Suddenly she’s mean and divisive. Ever not impressed, that’s you to a T. At least I created something. Can you say the same? You work in a fucking shipping bay. You stack fertilizer and dog food.
- Oh come on, I’ve been writing again. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bunch of crumpled pieces of scrap paper. There are a bunch of illegible words and phrases scribbled onto the scraps. You have to give me that credit.
- Oh, right. This book that doesn’t exist.
- I’m recording life. I just need an ending. Besides, I thought this is about you, not me. Now you’re gonna pick me apart?
- You know what I mean. She’s examining the wall now. Somehow it’s more entertaining than he is. Her icy apathy drives him nuts.
- It’s good. It is.
- That’s almost the perfect compliment, she says dully.
- I love you.
- Now you’re being an ass.
- You’re beautiful.
- Don’t tease me.
- I never tease you.
- You do too. Go suck yourself off. She gets up off the couch. I hope you choke on it, she snaps.

John watches her make her way across the polished white floor. Imagine that, he thinks to himself as she laughs at a comment an admirer makes. Cold one moment, vibrant the next, like turning on a light. His eyes pan away from her to the other end of the couch where Norm has taken residence. He leans back in his seat and turns his large black shades at John and smiles. He looks like an insect. What with the glasses all dark and large and metallic. Shiny. Bug-eyed. A chomping bit of male vanity.
- Way to go, kimosabe.
- You look like Don Johnson.
- Should be careful with her. She’s likely to flit on.
- Is that a threat?
- Just saying. He takes a sip from the bottle of red wine he’s got in his hand. Gotta ask yourself if you’re up for it. ‘Cause she’ll be gone.
- That is a threat.
- Gone baby, gone.
- I wouldn’t blame her. She can’t help it. From her heights, you’re bound lose sight of the ants around you.
- You know, when you were graduating from highschool, she was just learning long division.
- You-sick-fuck.
- Don’t cause a scene, John.
- Yeah, well, she doesn’t want me. Not like that. God. Look at these people…
- You’re too good, John. Fuck ‘em. They’re all assholes. And you know what they say about assholes.
- No, what do they say about assholes?
- They stink.
Norm’s attention wanders. John follows his gaze towards a red head that’s wearing a thin brown dress that is slightly see-through under the bright white lights. You could see she’s not wearing any underwear.
- What are you looking at?
Norm touches his tongue across the front of his teeth and says:
- Dinner.

Mouth to mouth. Infinite verses and infinite worlds supposedly exist. Pretentious bullshit. Fuck Stephen Hawking, John thinks. Because that means there’s others out there, like him, living different but most likely equally useless lives. Playing Monopoly. Strumming folk tunes. Surfing broadband internet porn. Or staring into the water. Clear. Blue. A cool groove, the lights from the bottom of the pool reflect up towards the surface, giving off a hazy likeness. It bends, the light that is, darting over him with each ripple as he makes his way around the edge of the pool. And what does this mean? It means there are other Stephen Hawkings; just as brilliant, just as crippled. How much of the world could you possibly know if you can’t even go off roading? Infinite verses… 6 billion people suffering in infinite different ways. It’s all too depressing, really.
- Don’t go in the water.
- What? John looks up at Norm as he wanders over next to him. He’s still sucking on his bottle of wine. Or maybe it’s a new one.
- Don’t go in the water. I think someone pissed in the pool.
- How would you know? He looks at Norm who just smiles. You’re disgusting.
- Hey; if you can think it, someone has probably done it. Originality is a phantasm.
- How in God’s name can you talk properly with all that shit in your mouth?
- Get with the program. God is dead. The New York Times said so.
Norm fixes the sunglasses on his face and brings the wine bottle to his lips. He looks out at the dark sky and mentions how clear the night is. Sean comes walking up to them, arms folded over her breasts, hugging herself. She’s looking back at the people in the gallery. She mumbles how it seems like the gallery has a life of its own. As if the artist doesn’t matter. As if the photos don’t matter. As if they were looking for an excuse. And John asks:
- Excuse for what?
- Look at them. It’s like I don’t exist.
- Excuse for what?
- Just a flickering image amongst all the lame scenery. What gives? She says all this without looking at him. She’s hasn’t looked him in the eye all night.

John tries to kiss her but she pulls her face away slightly and he comes up short. She just looks at him, the indifference in her eyes makes him nervous. But only briefly, for the indifference turns to disgust. He backs away from her. She looks back at the people in the gallery where the Pixies are yodelling the song, Hey through the banging bass. He watches her for a moment before snatching the bottle of wine from Norm. He takes a big swig from it. It tastes a bit too sour. Grapes. With a little too much wrath.

But there’s nothing as surprising as spontaneity. It’s what she does best and soon she’s under, deep under the cool blue groove. Beneath the bubbles, beneath the water, Sean holds herself. Still. Freeze, don’t move. John calls after her but the sound is drowned. She’s a blur, a dollop, a smidgen of floating blond and brown. Her eyes closed. Her hair floating in a crown around her. Her dress tangled and rising about her, with her white legs bare. And just a glimpse of her black panties. A glimpse. The light from the pool reflects off her milky face. Her high-heeled pumps float up to the surface. And sooner rather than later, they come tumbling down around her. John and Norm, their bodies bombing through the water.



John grabs her by her waist and pushes her up first to break through the surface. Laughter meets him as he comes up for air. The sunglasses still on his face, Norm is barking at the moon. Sean is calm, her hair slicked back, with wet on her face. Pearls of it. John coughs, spitting out the burning chlorene. He’s treading water. He takes a look at her face. It’s hard to gauge her. He grumbles:
- That was vulgar.
Norm grabs her from behind, drawing her against him. She momentarily struggles, thrashing up water for a few seconds before giving in. He’s got his paws around her wet frame. The dress clings to her. With nipples clearly evident. He buries his face into the back of her neck and she yelps when he bites her. Playfully. Like some kind of monster. She winds her hand up in John’s tie and pulls him towards her. The guitar solo seers through the Pixies song. She’s close enough to smell the wine. Norm is already kissing her, nudging his nose against the back of her neck, his tongue running up the nape of it. She runs her fingers through John’s hair. A mass of wet. A mass of tangled. Like sinuous vines. He closes his eyes and tries to kiss her again. She pulls away in time for him to miss and lay one on Norm’s lips. Norm shoves his tongue into his mouth and they share each other before realizing what they’ve done. She’s laughing. The water laps up against her chin as she drowns her guffaws into the water. It bubbles up and pops at the surface. Norm quickly looks away. She watches the expression change on John’s face.

- - -

White flag. Sean lies on her back on the floor. She’s counting the holes in the ceiling. She’s there, white with black panties, in the middle of the apartment as he stands over her, shirtless. She’s younger than he thought. To be forever young. That’s masturbation. An elusive beast. She giggles, eyes glazed over. She stretches out before him on the hardwood floor, her bare skin a contrast to the cold floorboards. She brings a slim digital camera to her eye and takes a quick snap of him before telling him:
- I need a new life.
On the bed, legs spread, he goes down on her. She’s got her eyes on the dew building up on the windows. He licks and fingers her. All this without coming up for air. He climbs on top of her and starts fucking her missionary, then flips her over on her stomach and fucks her from behind. All this under the blanket moonlight. Freeze this moment. To be forever young. She’s so high on mushrooms that she doesn’t protest when he pulls out of her and puts it into her ass. Love, sex and madness; it’s all there. She starts to moan because that’s what he wants. When he’s close, she tells him:
- Don’t come, Elton. Not in me.
- What?
- Don’t. Just don’t.

- - -



spartans! enjoy your breakfast, for tonight we dine in hell! - king leonidas

so i managed to catch the movie, 300 today. it is a film based on comic book legend frank miller's graphic novel that retells the ancient battle of thermopylee where king leonidas and 300 spartans fought to the death against xerxes and his massive persian army.

what little plot there is, isn't really worth telling, nor is the writing for the most part. the movie has flat characters, big, loud dialogue and paper thin plot. but that's not the reason you go to a movie like this. anyone expecting a history lesson is delusional. 300 is there to entertain, that is all. it's a big, bloody action movie littered with heaving men buffed up on steroids with the occasional female nudity thrown in to reaffirm that this is a heterosexual, manly movie.

i enjoyed it. a lot of the reviews i read before seeing this movie tended to outline how much violence there was and how useless the rest of the movie seemed to be. well, personally, i thought the movie could have used more fighting and even less dialogue. there's this whole subplot of a local politician trying to consolidate power while king leonidas is away at battle which i found to be quite lacking. it was an effort to round out the story, but really, i didn't care. i wanted to go back to the battlefield and watch more people get their heads cut off. sounds gruesome i know, but sometimes after a night of drinking, all you want to do is sit around and not have to think.

there was some suggestion that 300 seemed to have parallels to the current political situation in the world, where this group of spartans are defending freedom against a brutish force as represented by the persians (re: insert iran, terrorists, etc). you can definitely draw parallels, especially with all the talk about defending freedom and how freedom comes at the cost of blood, but the graphic novel on which it is based came out before a lot of the current political blow-ups (no pun intended). personally, i never saw this movie as a political one. some reviewers used this silly parallel as a means to bash the movie. well, if you're going to bash the movie, bash it on its useless subplots, it's canned video game look and lack of any character depth (of which you will definitely score points on).

at any rate, 300 is pretty amusing. it filled my blood quotient for the day. shakespeare it is not, nor should it be, because sometimes you just want to see a man fight a giant troll.


oops, i did it again.

white house aide i. lewis ``scooter'' libby was found guilty tuesday on four felony counts of lying about his role in exposing undercover cia officer valerie plame. he could face up to 30 years in prison. scooter was just one part, one cog in the bush administration's machine that frequently attempted to steamroll over anyone and everyone in an attempt to keep the lies going. he should go to jail. but he might not. we'll see what happens to him in the near future.

his guilty conviction is good news, of course, but what is ridiculous is fox news and their handling of the guilty verdict. below, you will see a screen shot thanks to daily kos that shows in the written prompt that scooter was found not guilty. this isn't the first "mistake" they've made. months ago when the mark foley scandal broke (he was the republican congressman who was caught sending sexually inappropriate messages to a congressional page), fox news reported in the text that foley was a democrat and not a republican.

now i know mistakes can be made. i know multiple mistakes can be made. but in this case, i believe fox news knows exactly what they're doing. it may not matter in the long run, but by making these convenient mistakes, they're sowing the seeds of doubt, no matter how small, despite what the facts say. actually, it's not doubt they're spreading, it's outright lies. it's dishonest, and intellectually underhanded. but then, i shouldn't be too surprised, now should i? after all, we're talking about the news agency that trademarked "fair and balanced." it's like saying the earth is flat. you can say it as many times as you want, you can trademark it even, but that don't make it fucking so.

(source 1)

(source 2)


cpac 2007: the unauthorized documentary

the nation's max blumenthal takes a camera into the heart of the conservative political action conference and asks some interesting questions. what comes about is quite a revealing look at how some conservatives feel towards liberals, as well as how some conservatives feel towards some of their own policies and ideals. this is pretty much mud slinging at its finest, and it is quite humorous.

while humorous, this type of journalism is pretty confrontational, but i understand is a tactic that sometimes has to be employed in order to try to get some honest reactions out of people, rather than political talking points. it pushes buttons, but then, sometimes you just have to do that in order to get a bit of honesty and personality. and it's good for a laugh.


she's having a baby!

i'm putting aside the politics and the writing and the general trite for this rare occasion to announce something very personal, which is the announcement of a new addition to this crazy world. my good friends cara and drew are expecting their first child, due sometime in september!

congratulations! dear blondie-bear is all growed up! now she has to children two take care of! at any rate, that is going to be one good looking baby! (wow, that' s a lot of exclamation points. obviously too many to be considered legal.) anyhow, after speaking with the expecting parents of this coming love-child, i have officially put my name into the hat for baby names. loring is french, a variation from lorraine, and it means famous in war. they don't know what gender the child is yet, (i'm betting it's a boy) but i figure my name would be perfect for any boy or girl who can be expected to achieve greatness. (notice how i turned such a joyous occasion to somehow include myself? yes, i am that selfish sometimes.)

i'm actually still not fully comprehending any of this yet. i'll need some more time to digest this. you can follow the progress of the birth at cara and drew's blog, monkey business. it will be refreshing to have a bright-eyed, innocent soul around. you know, before the weight of the world crushes it and turns it into just another bitter, miserable human being.

i'm joking of course (not really). have a good one, cara and drew! here's to hoping they don't end up being a stripper or a politician. it's a fine line that one. cara and drew: this is your life!

the man in black

i've always liked johnny cash's music. i find it really uplifting. i'm kidding of course, but one of my more favorite songs is god's gonna cut you down. this video basically has a bunch of pop stars paying tribute to the man in black. it's one of those big masturbatory videos that always gets made when a legend dies. i appreciate the sentiment, but i can't help but think as these pop stars pay tribute, they are in fact a representation of the types of people that cash says god will cut down. but then, maybe that's the point of the video.


ann coulter: beast master

according to mediamatters.org:

In a March 2 speech to the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC), right-wing pundit Ann Coulter said she "can't really talk about" Democratic presidential candidate and former Sen. John Edwards (NC) because "you have to go into rehab if you use the word 'faggot.' " The CPAC audience applauded her comment. Coulter's comments, which aired on CSPAN, were also documented by the weblog Think Progress. It was not the first time Coulter has smeared a prominent Democrat with a homophobic epithet, and it is not the first time that Coulter has ridiculed Edwards. Will the media call on Republican presidential hopefuls attending the CPAC conference to denounce her smear?

now, we all know that ann coulter is the bride of satan. don't let the pasty white exterior fool you. and we all know that she basically says crap because she knows it will get on the news - the crazier the better. people will write about it, and she'll get exposure so she can sell a few more books. i suppose i'm not helping, since i'm posting this entry.

all that aside, consider the evidence: coulter has, for the last year, really worked the gay angle, calling former vice president al gore a "total fag" and implying that former president bill clinton showed "some level of latent homosexuality," as well as putting "even money" on sen. hilary clinton coming out of the closet.

now consider this: it seems, at least until recently, that some of the most verocious anti-gay opponents and bashers have turned out to be... well, gay. (eg: ted haggard). hmmm... maybe coulter is trying to tell us something. it's okay ann. there's no need to be afraid. especially if the republican party is as pro-gay as you say they are. they'll welcome you with open arms. right?

and here's letterman's knock on coulter. yes, she is an evil, crazy bitch.

(source 1)

(source 2)

keith olbermann vs glenn beck

keith olbermann has a regular spot on his program that basically names the world's worst person in the world according to olbermann. this time, it's cnn's very own glenn beck, who basically sexually harasses a woman on national television.

he's basically discussing the american idol scandal involving a female contenstant and supposed racy photos of her that were leaked onto the internet.
i gather he was joking, but that's just not something you say. the look on her face says it all. idiot.