The Literate

Studio Session w/Staylefish

2009-06-11T01:18:00.008-04:00

June 5th, 2009.

Some music makes you want to dance. Some music makes you want to run. The music being made right before my eyes, right now as I type makes me want to chill the FUCK out. Yes, the rock-reggae fusion of Staylefish is wrapping up the final mix for their third EP, Color By Numbers, in the shadiest part of a nowhere industrial area, away from the bright lights and screaming fans that are sure to follow in the coming months. Just the UNmixed tracks sound retardedly amazing. I can't wait for the world to join in on this awesomeness. They will soon.

Their new direction pops. The sound is clean, punctual, vibrant, catchy as hell and dripping with good vibes. I wish I had a car and it was back in the mid-nineties when cruising was still an acceptable past time. Oh well, an iPod will do just as well.

It's an incredible process to watch the layers of vocals, guitars, drums, keys and bass, mixed, faded, added & subtracted; in this music factory, sound is pulled apart and reassembled in seconds. The level of manipulation that current 21st century digital technology offers is so overwhelming to a non-musician, I understand that the limitless tech options are only made valuable by the level of artistic ability each man possesses before me. It doesn't hurt that producer John Nazario has gold and platinum albums hanging on his studio walls with the likes of Nelly Furtado and FA, BO, LO, US. Simply put, this shit is serious.

I'm sitting on a most comfortable black leather couch, being served double espressos, joking and laughing with the band, while they grapple with technological issues Bob Marley never had to think about. As the film guy who toils into the night, alone, it is very refreshing to watch the continuous collaborative effort put forth by the entire band. They work cohesively, intuitively and respectfully. There is also a lot of farting, which I am more than happy to contribute; this is as far as my musical abilities will take me today.

They play with their iPhones and guitars alike, listening to their tracks over and over, refining their sound down to a fine art. These guys are musicians and I can't wipe the big stupid grin off my face; it is such an honor to watch them create what will invariably launch them into the next stage of their career. This album, in all probability should put them into the commercial mainstream with MuchMusic, a new tour, album release parties and hopefully, a big label rep. Here's me crossing my fingers.

To give you an idea of the daily goings on, I've just watched them text a percussionist in London, Ontario, to record a conga drum track, then wait an hour, then download a 70MB file through a totally not stolen internet connection, and seamlessly blend it into their rough track. John the producer swears it was worth every last-minute-penny they spent on this last minute addition. They bribed the guy with 100 bucks for about 15 minutes of work. I'm just amazed that some guy banging away on conga drums, two hours away, can just send that through interspace and bam, presto - they've got the exact flourish of color the track required. This is the impulsive, last minute tinkering that Staylefish is engaged in. Half the shit they talk about, I can't hear the difference anyway. But I understand.

My good friend Dan Tran is a Vietnamese rock star with a heart of solid gold. He gives the best hugs. He plays face melting solos on his hollow-body Fender telecaster; the envy of all who see it. He let me play it today and it was every bit as gratifying as I had imagined. Thanks buddy. I don't think I've ever met someone so warm and inviting to all that he meets. Most definitely, a rarity.

Brent Chenier, the band's newest acquisition, rocks out by sloppin da basss mon, his body moves to the beat, subconsciously integrating his natural rhythm into everything he does. Even drinking a Corona-espresso. He's been with the band for three months now, but it's as if he's been with them from the beginning. They're really just a big, happy, family.

Chad Kivisto, the lead singer and rhythm guitarist passes me a stereo headset to listen to the current track they're playing with, The Good Times, and it is indeed, a good time. Soaring lead solos, cool laid back vocals, reggae influenced freestyle jams and a catchy beat that works perfectly for sitting on a beach, smoking a spliff. I can't wait for this album to drop. SOON.

Richard Howard, the other lead vocalist and token black-guy-that-gives-them-street-cred is back in London sleeping on a couch somewhere. I will see him the next day at their show, and we will indeed have a four hour van ride to the American border, drinking, laughing, filming, and other things I can't talk about here. He's a good shit.

Jon Bacon, the bands drummer, is somewhere causing trouble. That's all I'll say. :)

Tonight we drive to London in the band's van in preparation for their show tomorrow night. I'm "going on the road" to shoot their performance as part of our plans for their promotional material, and possibly, what could become part of an indie music video. We'll see. Hanging out with rock stars isn't like the movies; it's actually kind of better because these guys are caring and fun to be around. That's all I feel like mentioning right now, because I have some living to do. I feel like I'm Patrick Fugit in Almost Famous. All I needs now is my Penny Lane.

Off I go...

Thanks for reading. D.

I'm a PC. (Perverted Corporation)

2009-06-05T00:31:00.009-04:00

Have you seen this girl on TV?

Save the degenerate members of NAMBLA, most people would agree that you don't have sex with children. Besides the fact that you should hopefully be attracted to someone your own age, the fundamental premise that underlies this socially agreed upon covenant is that a child, being a CHILD, does not yet possess full autonomy. They can't make complex decisions, nor should they be expected to.

Richard Dawkins uses the same argument to show how no child can truly be called Catholic, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or whatever, in his pro-atheist book, The God Delusion. He made his argument on the grounds that while children can be raised in ANY particular religious home, they are not actually part of that particular religion until much later in their life; when they CHOOSE it for themselves. Made sense to me.

I think we can all agree there is something sinister about using the impressionable nature of a child to sway him or her in a certain direction before they have a chance to choose their own path. Who would do such a thing?

I give you the "I'm A PC" ad campaign. In its most recent lame attempt to look cool, all I can figure is that upon realizing no sane, autonomous adult would choose a PC for themselves, Microsoft has followed in the tried and tested footsteps of the Preachers and Rapists before them, and begun targeting unsuspecting children in a bid to boost profits. Oh for shame.

Alright PC, if that's how you want to play it. Tsk tsk.

Mac:1

PC: nada

Penis vs. Vagina

2009-06-03T19:25:00.005-04:00

Why do they call it "bumping uglies"? What's so ugly about the way we bump? Is it what they do? How they look? Feel? Taste? Smell? I'm guessing it's an indefinable combination of our five senses that make penises and vaginas a bit of a neglected critical topic. I guess my point here is, if our uglies are in fact "ugly", what then is beautiful?

I can't get past this. In the end, our culture seems to say it's all about the baby-maker! Does it work? Did you get results? Okay, good life. A+. See you in the next one. But that feels so goddamn empty; I don't want to accept that. Why are we so stupid when it comes to sex, genitals, babies and the life force that supports them to exist in the first place?

I think we're past the dark days when things like masturbation was the Devil's doing, and people made love to each other through a hole in the sheet. Today, that kind of shit is just plain kinky. But considering that's where we come from, I'm just assuming everyone loves his or her junk these days. How could it be any better though? We often reference the qualitative judgment that size matters, in reference to breasts, bums, penises and sometimes even labia. Haha this is hilarious. Where am I going with this? I don't know. But this is the prettiest shit we got, in my perversely humble opinion. And we downplay it all, cover it up, eek away from discussing it and instead turn our gaze towards fashion, television, image and reputation. The things that make us are hidden and ignored; the things that distract us are copied and revered. What gives?

I remember wondering as a kid why the penis was the only appendage on the body that didn't have bone or muscle. Haha. Imagine penis exercises? Guys packed in the gym who already take bodybuilding too far would walk around with these massive bulges everywhere. It would be hilarious. It's almost like Nature thought better of that feature, and was like, "Oh no guys, Jesus, how did I almost miss that one, no, I don't think you'll be able to handle that responsibility quite yet... I'm downgrading you from a muscle penis to a spongy one instead - oh don't worry, when you need it most, it will get hard like a muscle all the same". Splendid. But we can't control its size and biologically speaking, it's the most important part of our external appearance. This was a primary lesson in accepting that which I cannot control... ahem, not that there's been any complaints. (See, I still care what other people think! Blast.)

I must say, I will take a French Martini Glass over an American Hooter any day. The point being, balance is pretty and attractive, purposefulness is what we should be all about because THAT is what's truly beautiful. But we're most definitely not. I can't help but notice the people who seem more concerned with producing a full Facebook album the next day, rather than enjoying themselves on any given inebriated social outing - I think they call them parties. I don't care really, it just seems like a waste of time. But how did we get so distracted with image?

Bodybuilders and beauty pageant contestants are cultural hyper-manifestations of the masculine and feminine form. They are unchecked, exaggerated physical versions of our ideological human spectrum. In this corner, we have Testosterone, weighing in with a lot of muscle and rage and manliness. And in this corner, we have Estrogen weighing in with feelings and emotions and girlishness. Haha this is my retarded worldview. Most people land somewhere in between. But you have to wonder? Why? Why do these people exist? What do they gain? What do they contribute?

I find it very comforting to remind myself that all humans possess certain levels of BOTH testosterone and estrogen - just in different amounts. My favourite people seem to be the ones with a near even mix. It's like they are hormonally centered. There doesn't seem to be an inner urge to convey an outward sense of any one particular gender - they're just themselves. The rest just come off as maddened and delusional. But I should really validate that horribly superficial judgment with a deeper explanation. Here goes.

You can group the entire package of madness together under one heading: EXCESS. High heels, makeup, toupee, fat, tans, pushup bras, jewelry, large muscles: they're all just a form of material excess. Adorning the basic human form with organic and inorganic enhancements, to look extra-ordinary. It's all a ruse. We huff up our chests, pout out our lips, squint our eyes real tight and look like something less-than-human. I'm not saying they don't work though. High heels, for whatever reason, make a killer set of legs look even better. But then I think, if you blur your eyes a little, the high heel makes the woman's foot look pointier - like she's walking on stilts. Why is that attractive? It makes her feet look smaller, like that of a child? YOUTH! It defines a social custom of trying very hard to capture, preserve and exploit the concept of youth. A tan only looks great because the implication that you've been out working in the sun for many hours denotes stamina, strength, virility, whatever. It all comes back to the same core idea, that ornamentation of the body is just a way to increase the odds of attracting a mate. No shit Sherlock. But what is the intrinsic value in faking something if it's not sustainable?

Let's flip it around. Have you ever met someone who was really physically attractive, almost to the point where you devalued yourself in his or her presence? You said something to yourself like, "He or she is way out of my league". Seriously? Why do we do this? Lets take this a step further. Have you ever spent time with a really attractive person, and in that process discovered they were totally lame? Something about their flatness of personality, or their raging immaturity, or annoying idiosyncrasies you just can't overlook after awhile. Physical beauty is more like a resume than a job. You use it to sell yourself, but only for first impressions when no other way is possible. Do you keep handing in your resume to your boss every time there's a new project? No. You used it once to get the interview, now your work speaks for itself. So who cares if you're good looking or ugly? Unfortunately, I do.

Because this is how we're programmed by the tone of our culture. All we do is run around looking at everyone else, hoping they are noticing us. Talk about futility. No wonder the divorce rate is so high. No wonder so many people are unhappy. We're running around hooking up with all this glitz and pizzazz blocking our view of what's really going on. We just want to validate ourselves with reproduction and complete the full act of being. To reproduce is to take matters into your own hands, literally, and fuck them. It asserts a level of control. It makes us feel powerful to reproduce. It satisfies urges, it connects us socially, it teaches us valuable lessons. Everything about reproduction is designed to make us grow. Or wait; maybe it's the other way around? Maybe everything about our nature is designed around one principle: to reproduce. It's all about prolonging the species. Gay monks, take a back seat. This world is for reproducers only. But that can't be right. Can it?

So it seems to be more or less a case of “fakes it till you makes it". In other words, projecting the illusion of possessing a hyper-gender helps you get laid. So you can repeat yourself. So you won't feel that death is a total loss. But not everyone is physically attractive and not everyone can reproduce - or wants to. I feel like somewhere along this line of thinking is where idiotic battles of the sexes stem from. One side asserts itself over the other; to somehow prove they are the superior side in their unchecked fake-out. Each gender forgets the importance of the other side. Men and women are in it together. The only useful way I see of separating anyone is by designating the smart from the stupid. Then you're making progress. And maybe, just maybe, if we had a collective esteem boost, it would be called "bumping pretties".

So in a world pervaded by the growing belief that immediate gratification is the only measure of success, I try to remind myself that the best and most worthwhile relationships come from years of being yourself. That takes, to some degree, a solid level of intelligence. I'm going to go ahead and put myself closer to the smart side of this list because I'm not rushing into anything too quickly. But obviously I don't have it completely down either. Blinded by my youth, I just can't let it go. Yet.

Most people, even the best I've encountered, still to some degree miss this point. Because on the ground level, there's an esteem boost when we see a more polished reflection in the mirror. A feeling of self-worth, importance, VALUE. It's easy to believe we are more valuable on the inside, when we can reference that reassurance with a quick flash in the mirror from the outside. The thing is, we're all alone inside our heads. And unless you're schizophrenic, there is no other voice in your head to tell you you're valuable. You just have to ask unsettling questions and be patient for the answers. In essence, our incomprehensible self-worth is only valuable when we see it from inside, on our own.

In conclusion, there are a lot of stupid women in the world. But there are just as many stupid men. Thankfully, there are a lot of smart women in the world. And not surprisingly, there are just as many smart men. So reframe the debate from “Penis vs. Vagina” to “Stupid vs. Smart” and the world will make a little more sense. For me it does anyway. I'm just looking forward to the day when I don't feel the need to separate anybody from anyone else. Maybe then I can bump pretties and stop looking in the mirror so much. We shall see what we shall see.

Thanks for reading. D.

No Mind. No matter.

2009-05-27T15:22:00.018-04:00

"All things must end. Work hard for your own enlightenment" ~ The Buddha's final words.

When you look at a picture of the Earth at night, and a picture of the Human neural pathways, do you see a visual pattern? I do. I don't think it's a coincidence that they look similar. Both are showing the connection points of energy running on a logic system. The only difference is scale. Each day, as the earth spins on it's axis, one side receives sunlight, while the other rests in darkness. This spinning ensures an even distribution of energy at all times like clockwork and yields for us, circadian rhythm. But lately, since humans have banded together and shared their knowledge in the daylight hours, the Earth has begun to dream at night. Don't take my word for it. Just look.

As a result, pull back to reveal Earth spinning effortlessly around the Sun - keep this stationary image in your head and watch as the face of Earth darkens without sunlight, the electrical grid of metropolitan areas light up a rough perimeter to loosely outline their respective continents. This visual electric network of streetlights, buildings and cars, are lighting up the earth like a flickering filament in an old vacuum tube. Do you see the extended analogy? The illuminated neural network of a Human mind and the illuminated global network of an Earth mind? You have to step outside your own first, in order to really see the bigger one. But how?

Sit down. Cross your legs. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Concentrate on your breath and watch your mind. Be still. Feel. You'll find the right questions if you have patience and determination. Just like Jesus. And Buddha. And Neo. But seriously? No way. That shit is just made up bullshit. It doesn't compute with today's standards of success. Oh boy - hold on to your butts!

I was never very good at math. I could follow the lesson on the chalkboard, I could watch the steps and agree with each line of the equation, I would see the end result and conclude that the formula was successful. But then I would be given a problem on my own, and I would be at a loss for where to start. This was in part due to my lack of practice, however, my lack of practice was in part due to my lack of understanding the overall point. Each year, we would go through a painfully long term of basic mathematical concepts like calculus, algebra, trig, finite, whatever. It seemed endless. Where was it all going? Why???!!!! And then, at the end of the year, a teacher would spend the last week summarizing each part of the year, in a synthesis of conceptual understanding. They would say, "There. Look. THIS is what we are now able to describe, or explain, using all these little equations", and it would be quite a revelation. Then, I would take the course again the next year, and understand with each step, why I was doing what I was doing. I still didn't care, but at least I was able to pass math. That's a shitty way to go through life but it's what we often do. You may just not recognize the pattern.

This was an excellent lesson very early on: I learn best when the underlying concept is explained FIRST. Then, once I know the practical application, I can reason on my own why each step is important in it's own right, how each connects together, and to reason abstractly how to fill a void, without blindly copying the smart Asian kid next to me. And so the education system is adequate, but it fails to instill an extremely profound, albeit simple, concept from the very beginning stages: that we are all made of the same thing; energy. That would have really helped me if it were rammed down my throat in every subject I took. It wasn't, so now I'm ramming it down my own throat - that sounds dirty. So lets move on.

Nowhere in my education, was it ever stated, that there was a point to life outside of all the info crunching and ladder-climbing. Perhaps that was where Church was supposed to take over? Well, that wasn't for me and I didn't go. No worries, just wanted to state it outright. The point I'm trying to make, is that each person is uniquely responsible for his or her own education, ultimately, and if you are not satisfied with the questions you are told to ask, then fuck off and start asking your own. Simple.

A while back I made a quiet decision in the back of my mind that perfect happiness (or no suffering) is in fact an attainable function of every human being and so I systematically started down the path to figure out how. Very quickly meditation arose in several different areas as a recommended starting point. I had always heard this in the background, but now it seemed like a much more viable option. After only a few weeks of practice, I have started to see why. You see, religion has prayer, philosophy has dialogue, science has research, math has calculation; all are a point of focusing on our given reality with the intent of understanding it ever more precisely. However, they are all the same thing, or more accurately, they are all different variations of the same method, only labeled by words to be viewed as separate. This realization of uniting so many seemingly different pursuits into a broader channel of thought has been the first practical achievement of meditation for me, personally. It is organizing my wildly unkempt mind into a simplified, basic conceptual understanding of how all things work together. The consequence of which has brought me an amazing sense of inner peace. I LOVED using a pen to connect the dots as a kid. So gratifying.

I now look at my mind less as an unknowable variable of infinite complexity and more like an isolated human body. Think of when you go to the gym and work out, how at first you are weak, soft and small. A single bicep-curl on the first day will effectively do little for you, UNLESS you continue this practice every day. And everyone has probably had this experience, after a long period of physical latency, and you’re three weeks into a new gym routine and you can suddenly FEEL your body again. You twist a little further, you walk up steps a little faster, and you feel cool, healthy, firm and alive. This is the inherent benefit of the beginning stages of physical fitness. Over years of this practice, you will undoubtedly have the physique and health levels of the very best. The mind is the same. OH TWIST.

I never really thought of the mind as something that could literally choose a transformative process for itself, until just recently. The practice of mediation on a daily basis causes you to repeatedly take time out of your day (literally), and relax, ponder, concentrate and focus - on what? Doesn't matter. Focus is the key. Focus is the exercise. Each breath is a repetition. Essentially, the more you focus, the easier it becomes, and the more often you can apply it to the most random, boring daily activities, which in turn transform the quality of your immediate experience. So just like building muscle tissue, you can't bench 300lbs in your first week at the gym and you're not going to find Nirvana either. But the ability to focus is important because it affords you the ability to filter out all the melodrama, runaway threads, endless cyclical thought patterns that make the mind appear insurmountable to grasp. It's really this little stock-tickertape reader that gets energized the more you look at it. Stop looking at it and it stops ticking.

There seem to be many different meditative techniques, but they all roam in the same circles. The act of going deep inside yourself, spreading a conscious awareness of the life inside each imaginable part of your body, and just letting that arise within, is the best body buzz I've ever encountered. I have a feeling it is through this gateway, that you enter into that infinite realm of total peace and joy. According to some very old, tried, tested and true sources, this shit is like sustainable heroin, and so by definition, it's actually good for you. Now, just like flexing a muscle, I can contract my mind to a greater point of focus, at will. With time, the power of this contraction appears to be limitless. Enlightenment is the complete focus on right now, on energy as a whole without label or identity. Haha. It's a large pill to swallow. Inadvertently, I'm beginning to see why drugs are no good. On my very own too, without a public safety message to scare me.

I've already had a profound realization in a very short span of time. I've begun to see the illusion of sound and image (created by my eyes and ears), and the vastness that lies beneath all material form. I've renewed my appreciation for life and the outdoors by FOCUSing on my immediate present reality. I see the incredible beauty of Nature in parallel with the primitive human design all merged together as one. And it's getting easier. I can see planet Earth with more precise objectivity and that renders my ego into less and less. I see myself as an information-processing unit, temporary, fallible, human - but just to be aware of this allows me the chance to accept it. Apparently you don't need to be anything more. I've imagined the outlines of my body dematerializing and gone outside myself in a wave of stillness. I sat in the sun and felt it permeate my whole body in this different realm. I came out of it and was shocked. Sometimes it has been scary, but I can't stop myself from going back. The peace I'm gaining in my regular social life is ridiculous. I have shed all major external problems and that feels great. The deeper fears of my mortal existence, my temporary-ness, the pain of human tissue, these fears are rising up and I am happy to meet them. One by one, they are systematically being defused into conscious presence. I'm so happy and inspired by this turn of events. It's the first real feeling of freedom I've had since early childhood when I didn't have a name for everything and it all just fused together as one.

Words, labels, thought pictures, concepts, they are all just the mind firing away on default. When you begin to strip away all that you see, hear and think, and reduce it to a single point of focus, you create the opportunity for awareness of mind. By seeing the core of yourself as just awareness, your mind ceases to have weight. Meditation is like cleaning out your head (and by extension, your body), filtering out the unnecessary crap, and letting your very being open up to complete a circuit. By completing the circuit, you illuminate your mind with consciousness - this leads you as an individual unit to express itself as being ON.

The human brain is responsible for the Earth's Nite-Lite. I've said this before that each human brain is like a single unit of knowledge, or information. The idea of meditation is effectively screwing each human being slightly to the right, in the place where they stand, and watching the head suddenly illuminate, like a light bulb. Again, it is each individual's right to choose this for themselves, but you would only do so if you thought there was a tangible benefit. So, unless you first understand why you should illuminate yourself, you won't see the purpose of sitting still and emptying your mind.

Here's why: On a long enough timeframe, as each human chooses to illuminate their own mind, the Earth will appear to get brighter and brighter in the absence of sunlight. There is almost a direct correlation with the intensity and amplitude of the light emitted from each town or city, in proportion to the collective understanding of what we all are made of, energy. The more we understand our similarity, the more we work together, the more we share our knowledge for a common purpose, the faster civilization advances, the more people and energy are harnessed, the brighter the Earth will be - both literally and figuratively. Looked at another way, prehistoric Earth was pitch black at night. There was not yet a conscious presence, and so there was no agreement in order, and there was no way to achieve the harvesting of energy to be released at nighttime. Our Nite-Lite pattern reflects the human collective unconscious that is slowly coming to a point of self-actualization. Look at Congo. Look at Rome. The major difference is war or, lack of peace. No flow of positive energy. No flow of electricity.

THESIS: As your mind figuratively illuminates itself from within, this intrinsic change will manifest itself outwardly as visible light harnessed and projected by our collective species.

ANTITHESIS: So tomorrow may be today if it were really yesterday, but semantic gymnastics aside, it’s always right now. And I've surely been in the incubation stages for quite sometime now to accept all this so openly. But when you get to your wits end, or just plain tired of the "rat race", and you can't figure on what to do next, just remember you’re a light bulb. What do you think Bob Marley was wailing on about?

SYNTHESIS: I am not all the way screwed in. Or, in the most simplified way, I am usually turned OFF. I possess the switch to turn myself ON; you just have to look inside rather than masturbate. Once you are turned ON, you literally change the frequency of your energy field and you illuminate a different reality. I realize that sounds like cliché, mystical blather, but having begun the process of meditation sheerly out of a logical deduction from my limited options as a living being, there seems to be a lot of weight behind that blather.

If for no other reason, try it for the body buzz. I'll still love you all the same.

Thanks for reading. D.

Books To Read

2009-05-16T10:38:00.013-04:00

Text: The Fountainhead

Author: Ayn Rand

Year: 1943

Today's selection is one of my all-time favorites. There aren't many books I've read twice, this however, is one of them. My particular copy condenses this behemoth into a mere 704 pages. Good luck. It made more than a few trips to the porcelain pony with me.

Rand makes the case for capitalism as the ultimate economic system, selfishness as the ultimate virtue and the individual who reigns supreme over the collective masses. I don't agree with every detail, but her ideas are extremely thought provoking. If nothing else, it taught me an appreciation for the human creative spirit. It explains why we're important.

Despite being 60+ years old, it is surprisingly relevant for today's YUPPIES. It's kind of like a blueprint for how to make decisions regarding your work, and ultimately, your life. It's also just a great story about an uncompromising young architect.

I implore you to go read it. D.

Read First Pages: Here

My Friend Money

2009-05-14T19:21:00.014-04:00

Money is a valuable part of my life and I intend to illuminate the major reasons why. But don't be so quick to judge, there's more here than meets the eye.

Of the countless humans I have encountered, all come with a certain degree of deficiency. Nobody's perfect. I am aware of this, and here I choose not to dwell on the things they could improve upon, but rather on the things they have taught me to improve about myself. So while many of my friends are not without their own flaws, part of our friendship is founded on the acceptance of such limitations. The best part, the most rewarding, is simultaneously observing each other learn, discover and sometimes even surprise ourselves with abilities and actions we never knew existed. My closest friends have one thing in common: they refuse to settle for mediocrity. Each in their own unique way, is a winner. I expect nothing less of them.

My friend Money slides to the farthest end of the scale to the point where he's almost falling off. He does not request the best life has to offer. He demands it with a saucy attitude; animated and precise. He functions by a code of his own, often indecipherable even to those who know him best. He can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn. Luckily, Money isn't the Joker. He's just misjudged for his boundless social deformation. He's a misunderstood genius.

If you showed him an apple and an orange and told him to pick just one, he would ask you pointedly why a banana was not included as a third option. Why a banana? It doesn't matter, Money will now hound you for a fucking banana. He will make you feel like a jerk for not including one in the first place. When you finally offer him a banana, he will immediately select the orange as the obvious and logical choice, just to prove his point. But then he will tell you the orange is delicious with an inflection of genuine sincerity, just to add his own stylistic touch. A byproduct of his eccentric behavior is that he comes off as a real asshole sometimes. I suspect it has something to do with his intrinsic sense of play that follows him around everywhere he goes. If you can't see why making this kind of arbitrary point is his way of having a good time, he enjoys it all the more. My friend Money is razor sharp - you would be wise not to underestimate him. At the very least, don't tell him what to do.

He has chutzpah, moxie, grit, spunk & sass; all the attributes of a glowering charisma that would never cease, even in the face of bitter annihilation. But Money never fails. Oddly enough, he will be the first to tell you he has no natural talent at anything worthwhile. I respectfully disagree however. He takes people as his canvas, and their preconceived notions about EVERYTHING as his paint. His audacious and intransigent demeanor creates hilarious snapshot moments of speechless human reactions. Money is a social artist, if such a term exists. And by this point, if you've ever met him, you should already recognize the signature. People can't get enough.

At 16 he had the fastest and prettiest car I'd ever seen. We would joy-ride at 200km/h for an extended lunch break. We sauntered back into class like we owned the place. We were total idiots.
At 17 we smoked cigars and went to comedy clubs. Money would sit in the front row and provoke the comedians so they would lambaste us on purpose. "It's a better bang for my buck", he said slapping his knee with a stupid grin.
At 18 he once shit his pants by accident. That was maybe my favorite moment of his life. (I will remind you of this until you die). The details, however, will forever remain under lock and key.

I call him Money because he respects it so much better than I do. Once upon a time, very long ago, we had to buy his Old Man some hair gel and found the exact brand in the first salon we entered. Money then insisted we go to the other side of the mall to compare prices from another salon. I asked him why it mattered? I reminded him that it was his Old Man's money, not his. He just looked at me and said, "That's exactly the reason why I'm going to check". The best lessons are learned in practice.

I had a big dirty crush on this new girl in school but I couldn't muster the courage to talk to her. Money broke up with his girlfriend, for two weeks, to date the new girl. He did this strictly to prove a point: any girl can be wooed with the right degree of confidence and assertiveness; to put them on a pedestal becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Or so the theory stands. He dumped her ass to the curb and went right back to his girlfriend. It was seamless. I was left standing with my thumb up my ass wondering how he possessed such magical powers. I've since come to realize that's a shitty thing to do, but whatever, I just chalked it up to him being a talented "asshole". Still, you've got to admire the stones required for that type of move. He called every shot along the way without so much as a whimper of self-doubt. Something like that was just Money stretching his wings. And I myself was not immune to the bitterness caught in his wake.

For trivial reasons not worth stating, he's the only mortal I ever fought. More accurately, he punched me in the face and I told the principal. Teenagers. As a member of Student Council, I rationalized pacifism to keep from being suspended. In all honesty, I just didn't know how to fight. I don't remember much from that day, except for his apology in the office after the tempers had cooled. He told me he loved me and gave me a hug. We've been great friends ever since. We were way ahead of Ari Gold and Vinny Chase, anyway. And in the end, he was suspended and I was not. Alas, those were the good old days of high school when people like him actually got punished. Not anymore.

And this is the strange attractive force Money expels in the presence of everyone he encounters. Like a flamboyant Keyser Soze, he is always prepared to go further than the other guy, grinning like an idiot until the bitter end. When people meet him for the first time, their reaction is always the same: dumbfounded innocence. I can see it on their faces, they don't want to believe a person like this can actually exist. They deny it at first, but in the end, everyone comes back to Money. High-five.

Part of our friendship involves the gap between us. It's a mutual appreciation of how the other side works. And even when we agree on the same outcome, the paths taken are often diametrically opposed. I argue for the journey, and he, sometimes more for the destination. So while his material success is a victory, and my freedom of shit is mine, we both get to see what our different path may have been. That is my favorite part.

They say, a best friend is someone who gives you the freedom to be exactly the person who you are. Money encourages it. But the reality is, a best friend teaches you their strengths when you are deficient. Part of becoming your true self is embracing the parts of your character donated to you by your friends. That's the other side of the deal. Money's got a, "well, fuck you too", attitude that lets him get away with absolute bloody murder. I was not born with the same congenital disposition so he has taught me the trade, to some degree.

Most recently, Money was informed by his now ex-boss that he could expect to make 150K a year if he stayed the course. Money however, in his frank and brutally honest way, quietly confided that he would be happy if that figure were doubled. Anything less was unacceptable. No apologies. It's just not the kind of thing you say at that particular moment. Or is it? He now works for himself and is thriving. He's setting records. The kid is a worker.

Case in point: A rebel who breaks the rules by following them to a T. An artist who paints faces of incomprehension and awe. A confident man who knows how to live. All in the same dude.

When I first met him, he introduced me to a world of sexy cars, fast women, golf and Cuban cigars. He was like a country club member at 15. Actually, I think he did belong to one by that point. But those became emblematic of his deeper value in the years to follow: pride of ownership, confidence, good sportsmanship, and a reverence for the finer things in life. And above all, his shining most glorious trait, unsurpassed by all the rest, Money is the most loyal sonofabitch out there. He grew up to become the man you count on.

Actual Quote: "Dude, you know I'd take a bullet." Me: "Prove it."

I keep asking him who's trying to kill me? But if I were ever in real trouble, if the rules were somehow gone, if the referee wasn't looking and it was down to you or the other guy, pray you have a friend like Money on your side; he'll make all the difference in the world. So thanks, Money. You're alright.

In conclusion, who needs dollars & cents when you got a friend like Money? Not this guy.

Thanks for reading. D.

A Star Trek Review... Of Sorts.

2009-05-12T20:48:00.015-04:00

November 16th, 1974. Dr. Frank Drake and Carl Sagan et. al., release the Arecibo Message (pictured) into the cosmos on the pretense that intelligent civilizations may one day receive, decode and respond to it. While it's problematic for humans to picture invisible radio waves traveling through space in single file, we much more quickly grasp the point when such a message is transformed into a pretty picture. More accurately, as humans are keen visual learners, this colored pictogram is merely an abstract visual expression of their simple radio frequency released into intergalactic space. But what does it say I wonder?

Take a good long look at this picture.

It's a metaphor of our collective human brain. It represents in every fundamental way, that which is provable human knowledge. As a species, we have just barely ascertained that math is the language of the Universe, and this, our first word into the cosmos, is effectively saying, "Me".

Can you read it? I'll give you a clue: it's written in binary code.

Let's get stupid simple real quick. You can't begin to appreciate the value of a mathematical equation, {10 > 2}, unless you first learn the basic ten digit system {0, 1, 2...8, 9}. It is only when you first describe the individual building blocks, that it becomes possible to show your work; proof that a qualitative judgment is rationally correct. So, like, what? How does this factor into a Star Trek review? I will show you if you would please bear with me.

The Arecibo message has been able to summarize the complete and total understanding of our collective human knowledge within 1697 repetitions of two characters: 1 and 0. Each colored square is "on". Each black square is "off". This is as simple as it gets. It will take 25 thousand years to reach its destination and twice that length for us to receive a response, if at all. Instinctively, this gesture then appears to be more symbolic than prudent from its very inception. Regardless, the message is a fascinating way to look at ourselves from an outside perspective. Like a brightly lit computer icon, made to be double-clicked, it opens a vortex of organized logic. By it's design alone, it represents the deeper meaning of rational thought. However, where the code ends, so too do we. Allow me to explain.

Here's a quick breakdown of its symbolism from the top down:

1. In WHITE: The numbers 1 to 10 in binary code. This is like the decoder key.

2. In PURPLE: The atomic numbers for DNA. Hydrogen = 1, Carbon = 6, Nitrogen = 7, Oxygen = 8, Phosphorous = 15.

3. In GREEN: The molecular formula for nucleotides. This describes the chemical compounds for sugars and bases in nucleotides.

4. In WHITE & BLUE: The number of nucleotides and the double helix structure of DNA. This number is actually incorrect, but it makes the point symbolically nevertheless.

5. In RED: A picture of a Human with the numbers for average height and global population. We recognize ourselves as the intelligence processor.

6. In YELLOW: Our solar system. Earth is elevated to denote the message's origin.

7. In PURPLE: The Arecibo radio wave telescope to denote the method of transmission.

That’s it.

Do you see its significance? The human stick figure stands on the pixel meant to denote Earth; his head opens into the strand of DNA. Do you see how this picture summarizes the most fundamental components of our physical understanding, in the simplest way we know how? I repeat, this picture is a snapshot of our rationally descriptive knowledge. It is US.

Similarly, Star Trek is very much a cultural attempt at the Arecibo code. It breaks itself down into the basic parts, only to rebuild itself before our very eyes. It shows us the best of us, working together, to accomplish a goal of meaning. The analogy may sound stretched, but I believe they are one and the same; two sides to the same coin, if you will.

I'm going to boldly go where no movie review has gone before. But stay with me, there's a worthwhile point.

Most of our science fiction assumes each planet will have it's own intelligent ambassador species: Vulcan, Wookie, Robot, etc. and they will SPEAK a language similar to that of our own. This is an unlikely and subjective window into the future. In actuality however, if we are to communicate with another civilization in any meaningful way, the narrow scope of razor sharp mathematical expression will be our only tool. So for instance, an alien race would attempt to describe themselves as simply as they could to their level of understanding (just like we have with the Arecibo message), and we would inevitably learn from their sophistication of the mathematical language, how much further advanced they were from us. Simple.

From an omniscient perspective however, you would not see a group of "humans" talking to a group of "aliens". You would only see one blue planet projecting its logical thought pattern out towards another planet very, very far away. If the language of the Universe is math, then a planet speaks with radio waves, and we the humans are merely assimilated into the Earth's thinking architectural structure. From a cosmic perspective, we are so small that we cease to have units for measuring; we become an integral part of the wholeness of Earth's attempt to project logic into space. As Star Trek would have you believe, once an alien civilization is discovered it will be all chitchat. In one way, the primitive use of telegraphing logical code through space using simple binary digits is an amazing achievement of life, but in another, it is just an otherwise infinitesimal step on a journey across the expansive universe. Regardless of how you choose to view this attempt at speech, what else could we say about ourselves? How else could we do it? As it stands, this picture is the best thing we've got. So far.

Imagine a baby trying to utter her first phonemes in stark contrast to the incredible syntactic complexity she will attain as an adult human. Think of this picture of the Arecibo message as that first sound. This is language: to take some simple markings and line them up a bunch of times over. Both literally and figuratively, the coded radio wave message is Earth's first attempt at intelligent speech. To copy ourselves in some meaningful and organized way. Hmm, what does that remind me of?

I'm inclined to draw a comparison between that of primitive cave drawings and this message. We understand primitive drawings instantly, because they are so perfectly representative of the basic building blocks of our own knowledge. Cave drawings are a mirrored reflection of their documenter's self-awareness. We also see their limitation, and in so doing, obtain a sense of history of how our knowledge has progressed over time to become more and more complex. We can infer what they lacked, for example, by the absence of their ability to depict three-dimensional space on a two-dimensional surface. We've learned to describe depth and perspective from our human painters, and this in turn has added to the incremental complexity of our self-description. So how does our "space message" fall into the category of primitive cave drawings?

The Arecibo message lacks three-dimensional depth, so to speak. It is flat. And despite our vast specialized knowledge found throughout our daily existence, this amounts to all we can actually express outwardly. We don't have mathematical formulas for the expression of philosophical concepts, intimate to the human perspective. You could argue that with each successive step in refining an art, you refine a form of communication to be ever more precise. In which case, early cave drawings capture, abstractly, that particular time period's peak achievement in expressible thought. It was the best way they knew how to describe themselves at the time. And so following the analogy forward in time, this colorized code reveals our limitations on a cosmic scale, of just how far our self-descriptive language has to go. Earth is just a baby.

Just out of curiosity, how would you communicate an abstract thought through binary code? With all the poets of history, we can barely articulate the true nature of "love" to ourselves, much less through the formulation of mathematical abstraction. That is not to say such a description is impossible, just that we don’t possess the knowledge to do so right now. Therefore, we are defined equally by our lack.

Perhaps including a picture of us as individual, and separate from the earth is an inadvertent signifier of our lesser understanding. Based on the notion that we are separate from the Earth, perhaps an advanced race could extrapolate from their own history, at what stage of development we are currently in. Or, they may be surprised to find out just how irrational we can be considering the message we sent was purely rational. Math in its narrow window of focus, does not allow us to express many of the things we consider to be most human. In stark contrast to our current methods, an advanced species would be forced to express themselves purely through mathematics in order to be understood by the rest of the universe. Until then, this pretty Nintendo picture will do just fine.

Finally, the basic premise of Star Trek has and always will be successful for no other reason than it exemplifies a primal message about our strongest impulse: curiosity. By this factor alone, it was an intelligent franchise to reboot. In the wake of Batman Begins, Star Trek has boldly chosen to back up, rewind, clear the slate, and start from the beginning and breakdown the essence of its theme into the most basic parts. In so doing, you may then come to understand it's greater purpose, and this idea of showing your work as proof, is at its most basic level, a sign of respect for the audience. So you know what J.J. Abrams? Thank you.

Thank you for showing me each character the moment BEFORE they became assimilated into the U.S.S. Enterprise. Thank you for showing me what each character brought to the table by their own talent, intellect, specialized knowledge, whatever. It is only in understanding the delicate ballet of dynamic human interaction, that you can then pull away to reveal the sleek spaceship as a symbol for something more complex and purposeful. Hmm, that sounds like the Earth. I had never looked at it this way until seeing this movie. Essentially, the Enterprise is nothing more than a beautiful machine made by humans; it can do no better then they can. However, the heart of the machine is found only in its human center; the control bridge where decisions are made, probabilities weighed, and warp-speed engaged. The ship is only made valuable by understanding first, the complex interactions that must take place on a human level in order to function as a whole. In this way, Star Trek's narrative strategy succeeds.

Thematically speaking, what I take from the movie is a celebration of our pioneering spirit into new lands and ideas, AND the collective strength we require to do it. To borrow from a friend, “strong communities yield strong individuals, and strong individuals make up strong communities”. If we're going to go exploring, we may as well do it together, because it tips the scales in favor of our statistical success. Discovering the New World was once our greatest ambition as a species and today it has expanded to a galactic scale. If nothing else, Star Trek highlights our forward-thinking, goal-seeking future existence: To boldly go where no ONE has gone before. That much I knew already, but this movie explains HOW we will get there: US! The type of people they are, some serious, some with sense of play, how they reason, the rules they choose to follow or break, whatever. Of all things, that reaffirms my hope in humankind. I feel good now. Check please.

In terms of actual film specifics, the only comment I will make is a suspicion that Apple had a hand in designing the revamped bridge. If you don't think that's the cleverest, intentionally ambiguous product placement idea since the two-hour FedEx commercial that is Cast Away, I hasten to remind you, the only food Kirk is ever seen eating.... an apple. In the bridge. Done. Congrats you sneaky bastards. Anyway.

Arecibo Code. Star Trek. They are both a symbolic message to us as a tribe of learning animals. They are both a cosmic projection of what we understand ourselves to be. A call to arms. A celebration of life and its expansive property. While one message is codified in precise, calculated math and literally sent out to space, the other is codified in analogy, metaphor and ideals, projected on a screen in front of us. I asked above how we could describe an abstract concept to another civilization. Well, movies like Star Trek are the building blocks to that goal. We must first be able to describe our goals, and how we are to achieve them abstractly, to OURSELVES, before we can reason out the way of proving it. In so doing, we can prove who and what we are to anyone else listening. While Star Trek seeks to project an outward image of our inevitable future, the Arecibo message stands as a more sobering example of how far we have actually come. It's not nearly as impressive as we may like to think, but I say it's good to know where we stand. The verdict is in: We are fucking primitive.

So go see the damn movie and learn something about yourself.

Thanks for reading. D.

Day N Night

2009-05-07T22:01:00.009-04:00

KillerSong

TighterVid

Taking the night off.

(Video by So_Me)

Fight Fire With... Fire?

2009-05-06T21:58:00.016-04:00

"...as he burned he never moved a muscle, never uttered a sound, his outward composure in sharp contrast to the wailing people around him..." Shit.

June 11, 1963. Saigon. Thích Quảng Đức, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, sets fire to his body in the middle of a busy intersection in front of the Cambodian embassy. He volunteers, using his seniority within the Buddhist community, to lead a protest against President Ngo Dinh Diem's administration for persecution of Buddhists in South Vietnam. He burns for 10 minutes, slowly falling apart into charred ash. Only his heart remains somewhat in tact. Well, I'm not sure what to make of that exactly.

Three areas fascinate me about this act:

1. A tangible, concrete example of the phenomenal power of the human mind in action.

2. A tangible, concrete example of civil disobedience expressed in it's most extreme, and perhaps perfect, form.

3. The profound humility and respect which fell upon the witnesses in immediate response to this act of self-immolation; they fell to their knees, almost on reflex, bowing their heads to the ground in complete reverence, sadness and awe. It's as if they saw an act of God, or Buddha, or David Fincher.

First, think about your bio-evolutionary reflex to avoid pain at all costs. When you touch something white hot, you're hand pulls away before you realize it's hot. The pain only registers after. I've often thought burning would be the worst kind of death imaginable... maybe an axe murdering would be worse, but brief, whatever. I've heard of studies showing the mind control of Buddhist monks, 60 years of meditation on their resume, and it's as if they've unplugged the hardline from mind to body. Nothing phases these guys. I guess that's the only way you could pull off something this excruciatingly difficult. Anyone can light themselves on fire but not many can sit there like they're waiting for a bus. This fundamentally interests me for no other reason than to demonstrate the power of mediation. Tonight I meditate after yoga.

Second, in our global climate of warring tribal nations, offensive strikes are believed to be the best moral choice in order to stop worse atrocities from happening. While I can't argue that the Canadian occupation of Afghanistan isn't helping women and children from the shackles of misogynist tyranny, I've thought for a while now that no country should make war with another, unless certain basic criteria have been met in their homeland first. For instance, universal healthcare and a land free of homeless children would be a great start. The USA definitely would not have been able to go to Iraq if that were the case. My point here, is that I question by what right does one country have to tell another what to do, how to be, if they themselves are not fully actualized? I understand that is incredibly ideological, and probably horrendously impractical to expect, but that's why I am so impressed with Thich Quang Duc's statement. Even in the most extreme cases of persecution, the enlightened man or woman, will still see that violence is a short term gain, at best, and more than likely a total loss. Put another way, violence is a waste of human energy. So, I guess this burning monk is saying it is better to die by your own hand, if the quality of your life has become so unbearably poor, than to strike the hand that harms you. Hmmmm.... this is a grey area still, but wholly important I suspect.

Third and finally, the surrounding civilians just fell to the ground. The gesture of self-sacrifice, or compassion, was so powerful, it must have triggered some fundamental principle in the human psyche that said: revere this, it is special, important, an example of human perfection. To choose this, and to own it as he did, it must have been a remarkable experience to watch. I can't be sure how I would react here. I'd like to think I would understand it, but that's gotta be a really hard thing to watch. There's something about how these people collapsed as if unable to help themselves that puzzles me. Like some underlying cable that moves through all of us was pulled and the ones closest just dropped. I don't know.

Thích Quảng Đức was thought to be enlightened.

Tonight I finish with more questions than from whence I began.

Thanks for reading. D.

You Gotta Dig

2009-05-05T23:05:00.007-04:00

The Bridge

The tricky eyes, they play their games.

Unhinge the bipedal illusion.

Lay down. Look again.

The horizon cuts two equal halves.

Roots are but stripped branches.

A vessel reveals itself.

A portal for falling rays of sunlight.

A gateway for pouring rain.

Earth and air, united.

Life makes an exchange.

Two worlds divided,

Made whole again,

By the Tree.

Be peace.

Be one.

Be.

Movie Suggestions From A Guy Who's Seen A lot of Them

2009-05-05T01:30:00.008-04:00

1. Dances With Wolves (1990)

Kevin Costner's best film after Waterworld. His direction was sharp as a Pawnee arrowhead and as a result it won 7 Oscars. It has beautiful cinematography, lots of scalping and the lovable Kicking Bird; a great period piece overall. Lieutenant Dunbar transforms from a suicidal shell-of-a-man to a real live Injun. It's an inspiration to SUV drivers everywhere. Also, the Dali-Lana had a big dirty crush on Costner in the early 90's while I was growing up, so I guess I looked up to him. Then he made The Postman and a part of my living soul died. The "tatanka" scene is priceless and worth the download time alone.

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2. Schindler's List (1993)

Not the biggest Spielberg fan, but this was definitely the final word on the holocaust. Hollywood should remember this and stop finding disingenuous reasons for making more of them. I think there were at least five major motion pictures this past year that used Nazis, Camps or Jews as a means of forward plot momentum. If the Jews run Hollywood like Mel Gibson says they do, shouldn't they have a little more respect for their fallen ancestors? Okay, that was out of line, probably. I'll just stick to Oskar Schindler. He was a great man. This is a great movie. I love black and white photography and this is exemplary work in that respect. I remember as a child being sick to my stomach at the thought of Ralph Fiennes as Amon Goeth (pronounced Gert) so you can understand when The English Patient came out I had strong reservations. There's a definitive scene when a handsome aryan Nazi is shooting his Luger P08 pistol at a mountain of burning bodies, screaming hysterically, as ash falls like snow. I think it was at about this point, at ten years old, that I thought Speilberg was really on to something. If you have not seen this gem, do so. And as you're crying and clutching your heart and saying 'it's just not fair", I implore you to think of Darfur. Savvy?

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3. Pulp Fiction (1994)

Everyone's seen this baby. Unless, if you've been living under the proverbial rock, and somehow missed it, please rectify immediately. Besides the obvious Tarantino dialogue that made everyone cream their pants, I think the real genius of Pulp Fiction lay in two key areas: score and editing. The score was used exceptionally well to denote "party times", and then cut abruptly for really "serious times"; kinda like the record scratch at a party when the cops bust in, but much, much more subtle and effective. My favorite moment is Vincent Vega driving at night, top down, flying on smack, listening to.... that crazy rockabilly surf shit Tarantino used everywhere - you actually feel high with him. And the editing was a clever bit of post-modern treachery too! It made characters die only to then miraculously bring them back to life, all because the plot doesn't follow a chronological narrative. Like the criminals it depicted and the rules they chose to ignore, so too does the editing style of Pulp Fiction. I loves it when style reflects theme.

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4. Casino (1995)

You've got The Departed which is great, Goodfellas which is even better, and then Mean Streets, Raging Bull, Taxi Driver and Gangs of New York to compete with. Hmm, why then, Casino? I don't have a good answer actually. I love Vegas movies, I like that De Niro plays a Jew instead of an Italian and you can't never tell the difference, and maybe, oh ya this is why, Joe Pesci is a fucking psychopath. I would run. If I saw him in real life. Honestly. And for all the miserable shit that Kevin McCallister put him through, Scorsese outdid him tenfold, with something as simple as a baseball bat in a cornfield... and no, I'm not mistaking Casino for Field of Dreams. I guess I like seeing old dirty Vegas. The way it used to be, before there were rules and an Eiffel Tower.

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5. Braveheart (1995)

You can kind of see where Mel started to go crazy. To make a movie like this requires, probably, a certain degree of psychotic delusion. I just like when the little Murron gives the little William a thistle at his father's funeral. The look on both of their faces, well it's a delightfully poignant moment. And the score! Probably the tightest soundtrack out there - it just makes you want to run through the Scottish highlands with a bagpipe and kilt, killing English and hunting deer. Well, for me it does anyway. Braveheart will always have a place in my... heart... simply for Patrick McGoohan's inability to understand his gay son. You want to talk about "freedom"? Try having a boyfriend with Edward Longshanks for a dad. Sneaky sneaky Mel.

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6. The Big Lebowski (1998)

The Dude. He's what I strive to be. A hero for his time. The Dude. Maybe, no yes definitely my favorite movie character of all time. Jeff Bridges created a guy who would be your best friend if you ever met him. Walter, played by Sir John Goodman, is a scene-klepto. Maybe the best example of his character is illustrated in a brief phone conversation between him and the Dude. The fact that you laugh, and never hear him speak a word is a clever trick; they let you infer his dialogue between the Dude's reactions. It's so subtle because it's so natural, but THAT is strength of character my friends. See if you can spot it. That's how good HE is. In my humble opinion, The Big Lebowski is one of three top Coen Bros. films alongside Miller's Crossing and No Country For Old Men, and clearly, my personal favorite. It was also responsible for my unwavering love of CCR; I will never be able to repay that debt for as long as I live.

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7. The Thin Red Line (1998)

If I told you there was a movie with George Clooney, Adrien Brody, Vincent Vega, Nick Nolte, John Cusack, Jim "Jesus Christ" Caviezel, Woody Harrelson, Jared Leto, John C. Reilly and Sean "Motherfucking" Penn, all ripped and and running around with guns, would you believe me? Hey! Guess what other star-studded war epic came out at the exact same time as this one? That's right, the biggest cry-baby war story ever told, Saving Private Ryan. Despite being hugely overshadowed, The Thin Red Line is a beautifully crafted war film, tempered with artistic cutaways of insects, and guided by poetic narration, whispered with a hypnotic southern drawl. It attempts to show the squalid side of warring humans, but amidst the thriving, delicate ecosystem of life, surrounding them in their folly; it's a powerful statement. Terry Malick is one of my favorite directors and he's only made four films in as many decades. His stoic piece of art clocks in at almost 3 hours while the original cut was said to be nearly six. Mickey Rourke, Viggo Mortensen and Gary Oldman, including a 3 hour narration by Billy Bob Thornton never made it past the cutting room floor. Look for Malick's upcoming film The Tree of Life with Brad Pitt and Sean Penn in 2010; people who follow this stuff are losing their shit.

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8. Fight Club (1999)

Probably my most favorite movie of all time. It has sex, violence, philosophy, Meat Loaf, soap, explosions and the Pixies. But seriously, this is a story that is so well told, you can watch it twice and see two different movies. It has an ending that literally flips the entire plot over like a pancake, and by doing so, changes the story's meaning, entirely, from the very start. You could not, in a million years pull that off without an incredible degree of control and understanding for the medium of film. David Fincher is my actual God. If you have not yet seen this, I highly recommend, it is so choice.

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9. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)

We inherently place more value on rare objects, or one-of-a-kind pieces of art for their level of customization, or, I guess, one-of-a-kindness. Every shot, every detail, every line of dialogue, every piece of music, every cutaway: everything about this film is CUSTOM made. There is nothing gimmicky, formulated, standard or normal about it. Every element has a purpose. When I watch The Royal Tenenbaums, I feel like I'm watching a masterful piece of unfolding art. It changes the way I see movies in general - this is how all films should be made. I'm not saying that all films should LOOK like The Royal Tenenbaums, no that would be retarded, but that each story should be told in the way that best fits it's individual character, essence, whatever. Too many good films follow safe formulas to make money and miss being great. That's what makes this one so good, haha er, great: you can't put your finger on where the ideas of inspiration come from, but they all work together to paint this moving portrait of a family caught in 1970's limbo; perfectly. If that's not enough to sell you on it, it has that Alec Baldwin fellow from Team America for a narrator - the greatest actor who ever lived.

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10. Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001)

Not everyone will probably agree with this pick. But I have to ask, do you like dirty, sexy Mexicans fucking everything and each other on beaches, in cars, hotel rooms and weird wooden shacks? I guess I do. It's the best road trip movie out there, and for those who study films like books, there are layers upon layers of Mexican cultural subtext; I think this justifies the steamy eroticism it possesses. Otherwise I'm just a pervert. But seriously, this film pretty much launched the now-stellar careers of Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna. It has strange omniscient narration, subtitles for those of you who care, and a burning intensity that leaves you exhausted, and feeling like you just did something important. It's also good to see this film for no other reason than to quickly rhyme off a gritty foreign film to impress people who don't know any better.

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I hope if there are any titles listed above that you have not seen, you make the time and download.

Thanks for reading. D.

Sundays w/Mary Jane

2009-05-03T18:05:00.025-04:00

"...And the Lord said to Moses, "I am going to come to you in a dense cloud..." (Exodus 19:9). Seriously.

What if I told you, there is a hidden place amidst the bustling city streets of downtown Toronto and that it exists only for the chosen, and lucky, few? I promise you'll miss it in broad daylight, even though it sits on one of the busiest streets in the GTA. And even if by some miracle you spot it, you'll be denied entrance without a security code and access key. What's more, the only way to join is through someone who is already involved, and they have to sponsor your membership. Furthermore, if ever you DO find yourself a member one day, stop what you're doing, take a deep breath, and assume your karma is good because the universe is looking out for you. Seriously, what the fuck am I talking about? Would you believe me if I told you? A place to pray, to congregate, to find peace and dare I say it, enlightenment. I'm talking about a space to find God... of sorts.

Ok. Suspense: Built.

They call this fantastically secretive place, The Church of The Universe. It's a lot like Fight Club only there's no fighting, Brad Pitt is an aging hippy reverend with dreads, and everyone who attends joins in smoking from the Holy Tree of Life... ahem, Mary Jane Watson, Sticky Purple Punch, The Devil's Lettuce, whatever you want to call it. Like a pound of weed butter reduced from a mountain of shake, left over from a bag of bud, reduced and recycled into a THC baked cookie, The Church of The Universe is exactly what it says: a religion of religions, boiled down to their most basic tenets and offered freely to anyone who wants a taste.

Yes. The Church of the Universe embraces all faiths, has but two rules to live by and believes very seriously (as seriously as a religious pothead can be) that marijuana is the key to a happy, fulfilling and valuable existence.

Rule 1: Do not hurt yourself.

Rule 2: Do not hurt anyone else.

I've never seen a single unhappy member. Men and women of all ages, of every ethnicity, saunter in with sheepish grins plastered across their faces. (I wonder why?) Heed Aristotle's words, "everything in moderation", and you'll have nothing to worry about. But wait, it gets better.

Imagine a simple, elongated room with white walls, couches surrounding a coffee table and chairs lined in rows facing a simple pulpit. From the walls hang the Star of David, a golden Buddha statue, a massive poster of Bob Marley smoking a joint in black and white; "One Love" it reads. From Monday to Saturday the Church operates at regular hours where members can come to "pray" anytime they wish. On Sunday there is a service at... you guessed it, because how could it have been at any other time: 4:20PM. (Don't forget, it's important to maintain a sense of play even in the most serious of matters). The Reverend passes out two-bite weed brownies that will knock you out an hour later, and discusses the burgeoning community of political activists pushing for the legalization of marijuana nationwide. Each member listens, passing joints every which way, smiling and fidgeting quietly in their seats looking exactly what you would expect a group of stoner's to look like. But wait, it gets better still.

A smaller room in the back holds the office of business. The engine of the machine. The belly of the beast. One at a time, members enter, scan the whiteboard for the daily choice of plants, their respective prices, and hope for strains with a 7 gram limit (that means it's good shit and you cannot buy more than 7 grams at a time). In blue indelible marker: God's Breath: $10/g, OG Kush: $10/g, Chernobyl $10/g, Thai Rain $8/g, etc. You ask for whatever you want and they weigh it out in front of you, ironically, in a plastic Starbucks coffee cup coated in crystallized dust. They ask you for your membership number, the money and your signature. Done. Go play and be merry. Rejoice in the Lords presence... or whatever.

Sound sketchy? Probably. Personally, I think it's hilariously clever.

If you're offended by it's religious context, you don't get religion; or a good joke. If you're skeptical of it's legality, may I remind you of the speakeasies in the roaring 1920's prohibition era and the result they produced. If you're afraid of the gateway effects of drug use in general, I question your cultural acceptance of alcohol use in North America, and the pills proscribed by doctors for every ailment under the Sun. If you like to smoke weed but are afraid to associate yourself with such an organization for fear of reprisal, keep buying from your local dealer. Just remember Gandhi's words, perhaps grossly taken out of context, but nevertheless, "be the change you wish to see in the world". Thanks for that one Gandhi.

There's no such thing as a "good drug" that people CAN handle, and a "bad drug" that people cannot. There are however people with strong self-discipline, and people who lack it entirely. Anything in excess will inevitably harm you, in one way or another, but that would be breaking the first rule of the Church. Marijuana is entirely a psychological choice that no one should make for you, except you. The Church merely provides a platform, under the vague social guidelines, demanded of formally recognized institutions: in other words, you can't fuck with a religion nearly as easily as a club. Haha, oh how the tool of language breaks down in ambiguity when "clubs, cults, religions and societies" all start becoming each other like the confounded variables they are.

My friend Robot made an excellent observation worth mentioning: pick any busy night club district at 2AM and observe the public drunks our laws permit to exist. Puking, yelling, fighting, strung out on an irrational, emotional bender that will end in a 5 to 7 hour hangover the next morning. Not only is this tolerated, but if taken too far, they are sent to REHAB. Contrast them with a group of peaceful, quiet, over-analytical, albeit lethargic burn-outs with great ideas that will most likely never come to fruition. That is illegal. If taken too far, they go to JAIL. For fucks sake, the Catholic Church turned red wine into the Blood of Christ and unapologetically serves its members every week. Do I even have to make the analogous argument? Thank you for sparing me the act of insulting your intelligence.

Ok. In conclusion, a reality-check. I'll be honest. Smoking weed, in the end, is probably not the path to enlightenment. But I would rather find that out through trial and error myself, than blindly accept an outdated law made for a time when people lacked the stones... to get stoned. The novelty of the Church wears off; not unlike the high from too much smoke. It's not glamorous and some of the people who attend are in chronic pain. The religious aspect is more of a loophole, or social mirror, to avoid punishment, but it does help put things in perspective. Finally, buying drugs should be done as safely, and reliably as possible: The Church supplies a demand, pushes a cause and unites a community. Not bad for a group of people who are best known for their lack of ambition and follow through. Besides, it's not like we're going away.

So, you can judge from a far, drink till you're unconscious, laugh at the world, or sigh with indifference, but in the words of Tyler Durden, "do not, fuck with us".

Just, I would hasten to add, "...please and thank you and have a nice day".

Thanks for reading. D.

Saturdays with the Dali-Lana

2009-05-02T12:08:00.008-04:00

Ok fine. I'll admit it right out of the gates. I am, by definition, a mama's boy, but maybe just not for the typical reasons. Four and half years of university living has created a somewhat infallible self-image; independence has become the name of my particular brand. So it's rather interesting to return home and meet the person who made you, taught you basic lessons, watched you grow up and accepted your inevitable departure. I make no denial of my selfish agenda: she holds invaluable insight on the most fascinating topic: me. It's give and take - I talk to her about my life and she happily studies me like a petri dish specimen, but in return, I learn something about myself either through a form of self-confession, or through her sagely advice; I embrace the former, I cringe at the latter.

We're discussing the oddities of our particular relationship over coffee when I said something rather bold for a mama's boy. I told her my personal goal in life was to be free from all attachment, whether they be attachments to people, objects, ideas, emotions; nothing is safe, all must go, eventually. I looked her square in the eye and said something like, "don't take this the wrong way, but I don't need you, but I appreciate the time we've had together, I respect your views and values more than most, but that if I NEVER saw you again, I would probably be just fine". In the word's of Tracy Jordan, "TWIST". That's kinda fucked up, no? I didn't say it to be mean, or even disrespectful - just a matter of fact statement I honestly believe. I love her, but I love my own happiness more.

Skip back about six years ago and I get a call from my Old Man saying that our beloved family dog, Chenobe (Shu-nob-ee) or Nob for short, had to be put down. She couldn't walk properly, she couldn't eat properly; she was suffering from a vaccination that was meant to protect her, a stipulation of the New Zealand government for any animals entering the country. My Old Man, at the time, was planning on moving there. So I hear him saying she's going to die, but that I don't have to come with him, just he thought I should know. I decide rather presumptuously that he'll need me to be there; he had developed such a close and personal bond with her over the years, he would need someone to comfort him afterwards. I was also curious like a monkey.

So I'm sitting there on the floor with Nobby, she's got a needle in her leg and within 30 seconds she's dead. Her breathing stops, eyes close and she's gone. Just a shell remains. Wam! Death. What? Seriously? Just like that? Fuck. I can't stop staring down at her furry body. The vet and my old man leave the room, I guess, but I'm still staring down at the floor, my eyes welling up with tears. A major attachment to my childhood just left the building, and I, the one who had come to console, now was the person most affected by it. To the Old Man's credit, he handled her death very well; I suppose he had learned this many years earlier and knew what to expect. We sat on the park bench afterwards, he with his arm around me, looking off into space as I felt an incredible pity for the dog I had just lost. I thought of all the times I had never paid her any attention.

The aspect which confounded me most, was that she was just a fucking dog. I improperly lead myself to believe her death would be lesser somehow, because she was not human, and so my emotional shock didn't match my expectations. The only thing worse than pitying something, is to pity something and feel anger towards yourself for feeling it; to discredit your emotions by some arbitrary value scale. That, to date, was the only experience of death I've encountered which had any profound effect on me.

As a result, I have come to realize two very important things. The first: life is life and there is no scale of value that can be assigned to it - a death is a death and if you feel it, it counts. The second, all things die and that's really not so bad, in fact, it's kinda necessary to sustain life overall. I hasten to add that my "traumatic" experience of death was mild in comparison to people affected my mass genocide and horrific slaughter, but as a white boy from the suburbs, I'll take whatever I can get. I just want to acknowledge to any would-be readers out there, the sentimental cheese factor of "boy and his dog" is not lost on me. But taking from my own lesson, she meant a lot to me, more than most people, and at the time that trauma felt very real. I should have accepted that feeling instead of denying it.

Cut back to this morning. Six some odd years later. I'm looking at my mom, telling her I don't need her. She's cool. She understands. She tells me that if I died, she would mourn, grieve, move on and endure "pockets of sadness" between longer moments of joy and contentment. That's all well and good, I say, but for me personally, that's not good enough. I realized today that a large part of my thinking and analyzing is a kind of insurance policy that I'm paying into right now, to avoid future pain from whatever comes my way. I don't see my dog's death as a loss, in fact, it was an easy lesson that just took time to learn. If my mom died today, my hope is that I would feel a human sense of loss, on reflex, but rationalize the lessons stated above, immediately thereafter. I would use my rational understanding of our universe to accept her death and see it as part of something bigger, something necessary. To attribute emotions to death is a very human thing to do, something I learned firsthand comes without invitation, fast and hard. But to rise above that primitive, emotional reflex, to see it objectively is the underlying goal of my life. I don't fear my own death, just everyone else's.

To understand this, about a person who I care for very deeply, I think, makes us closer. Two cups of coffee and a dash of open-mindedness doesn't hurt either.

All Things Bloody...

2009-05-01T19:55:00.005-04:00

A Bloody Suitcase (2008)

Part 1

An independent short film made in my 4th year of university. It was a great learning experience - the focus was mainly on style; substance, not so much. It cost less than $500.00 to make and won 1st Place at the University of Western Ontario Film Festival 2008. The gun was half the budget.

Addendum

2009-05-01T14:05:00.005-04:00

An anonymous critique:

"...I don't believe that humans can ever be on the same page ever. There is always force and resistance to that force. There is no human consensus on anything, google it. There is a loving force, and a murdering force..."

   My response to this point is a) yes, there is and always will be resistance, however, recorded history shows a trend from tribalism towards globalism - slowly, through painful trial and error, we are merging into a unified front by spreading democracy and implementing unbiased technology to "count votes" [here vote refers to individual thoughts and ideas] and b) when speaking within evolutionary timeframes (ergo, "humans" will evolve as civilization progresses) then on a long enough timeframe, democracy should in theory be embraced by our superior successors. I agree we're too fucked up right now to agree on anything even mildly relevant to world issues, but, the seeds have been planted and the idea is there to work towards. Maybe I'm optimistic, but this is what a rationally thinking advanced race would have to support. Wouldn't they?

"...The society will always change yes, but it doesn't mean it will be 'growing' , 'thriving' or 'ever-flourishing'. Many different geographic populations are disintegrating in one way and integrating in another. The idea of a unity (one truth) is something I've found myself moving farther and farther away from..."

   I say in three ways we are growing - 1) our global population is increasing exponentially so in terms of the finite matter on this planet, we're slowly consuming more material for ourselves; both organic and inorganic, 2) with knowledge comes understanding and in the places of the world where our primitive needs have been met, the idea of self-actualization becomes viable a.k.a enlightenment, nirvana, [checkout Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs]. Again, on a long enough timeframe, if we don't kill ourselves first, our evolutionary successors would in theory realize the collective benefit of teaching self-actualization: this would fit my definition of growth because it would be the end of ideological resistance. Remember that within the agreed upon tenants of democracy, there can still be, and should be internal resistance, but it is done so with agreed upon rules (this is not currently our working model in most parts of the world but we're getting there) and 3) the concept of man blasting off planet earth with his knowledge of nature, energy and life in his brain, taking it to another planet and terraforming it with his knowledge to build a new colony is, in my opinion the earth reproducing itself - man as sperm. If we take our knowledge and colonize another planet, that is growth my friend.

"..And just like your immune system, it is part of a bigger system that will ultimately fail and you will die. There is no permanance and I believe we have to stop fighting for it. Everything in nature dies; suddenly, slowly, by disease, violence (for food or other) fighting it by trying to impress yourself on the ages may be infact exacerbating destruction, both of the self and humanity..."

   I agree with you that impermanence is a truth nothing can escape, however, if the planet is looked at as a single organism, than yes, it too will die one day when the sun dies out. But for the time being, we can reflect on our involvement within something much bigger than ourselves - the theory goes much farther to speculate each galaxy that contains earth-like planets are each forming their own consciousness which will eventually link together (I haven't gotten that far yet but I see no reason to doubt it) what's more important to me is that we check our egos at the door and stop comparing everything against ourselves. To view the earth without a sense of self would be to see it as a cohesive whole, not independent from you.

   Finally, I agree that each human possesses the traits of both a virus and a cure, but it is the fact that we have a free choice to decide how to live that makes us actually quite special. It's the only thing I can find that makes us pretty great: to first know we have a choice, and then to make the right one; it's the only thing that seems to set us apart from the rest of life in any phenomenal way.

Thanks for the counter arguments. :)

A Dabble at Thought

2009-05-01T13:21:00.006-04:00

I love metaphors. A computer is hardware and software working together in symbiosis to form a whole. Each part is useless without the other. This simple example can be used as a metaphor for describing the function of earth:

Earth and it's biomass (from the inner core to the outer fringes of the biosphere - all material) comprise the hardware, or, physical structure like that of a CPU. Furthermore, through evolutionary trial and error, DNA currently exists as the computational code for life to follow - it's the program. Finally, "life" can be described as the running software, or, operating system, by which the planet as whole runs in tandem. The overarching PURPOSE of such a system has yet to be realized; few people could predict the impact of modern computers on society back in the 1940's when they were still working out it's basic function.

   Gaia Theory seeks to view earth as a singular functioning organism, that evolves through time and space with progressively more sophisticated variations of biodiversity. This evolutionary diversification process effectively ensures the stability of the changing ecosystem as a whole despite changes in speciation, extinction, climate change and other cosmic effects such as the sun's increase in size and heat production. It follows that with each passing revolution around the sun, man (and woman now!) uses his/her rational curiosity to connect bigger and broader ideas together, from which previously had nothing to do with one another. This, essentially, is the evolutionary process of our ever-flourishing collective consciousness.

   The example of a computer, stated above, is appropriate given what the computer as a singular unit has yielded: when reproduced many times over, the Internet.

   With this metaphor in mind, is the internet a primitive neural network for the earth's attempt at consciousness? The internet is a solution for organization of our individual thoughts and ideas. Each human represents a single unit of thought, like a bit of information. Only once every contributing human mind is on the same page (ie. pure theoretical democracy), can they collectively begin to most effectively and efficiently solve the human "problems" on earth, otherwise known as the achievement of homeostasis. Interestingly enough, it is the process of democratization itself that lays the very foundation we currently lack. This solves half the problem in and of itself by organizing and agreeing to some basic rules we can then extrapolate from. In this light, the theory of democracy is the earth's attempt to focus a rational consciousness; with it's greatest tool at hand, the internet.

   This theory can change individual human perception of their daily reality, insofar as they can begin solving problems from the "top down" with holistic preventative measures, rather than a patchwork approach of disconnected methods which invariably yield unsustainable results. Ex. the failure to collectively agree on solving/preventing catastrophic climate change - this inability to focus and agree (disorganization) throws off the balance of earth's homeostasis overall.

   Is it not interesting to note that most major cities were built close to large bodies of water in their infancy, the largest of which reside close to an ocean. The cities of mass industry contribute the most concentrated areas of pollution into the atmosphere. If such pollution is to cause global warming and the melting of the polar caps, the rise in sea level by seven meters is enough to wipe out those very cities first, thus shrinking the perimeter of dry land, and effectively resetting the space from which we are to build. This may be coincidence, but it feels very much like an inherently self-correcting system, much like our own immune system.

   Humans on an individual scale possess the entire spectrum of our value, or lack there of. A murdering society will inevitably kill itself off with nukes, whereas a loving and peaceful society will thrive and grow with each successive reproduction of itself. It appears that if we are to continue down the path we are currently headed, from space we would be seen as a virus to the earth. If we are to organize, focus and connect, we will recede back into the balance of all life.

   The question that remains: are we a virus or the next logical evolutionary step? You decide you tiny little bit of information you.