Many Long Years

For many long years

I did write you a song

For many long years

When you bound my tongue

I would smile through the pain 

When you bound my tongue

For many long years

Your heavy hand lay

On the top of my head

Your heavy hand lay

And just under water

I struggled and stayed

Just under water

By your heavy hand

Low brought down

Away from the light

I sank deeper still 

Away from the light

The thread of my will

Held because and despite

The thread of my will

Away from the light

And deep in the sea

I sought out my worth

Deep in the sea

I struggled and fought

All the demons that be

I struggled and fought

Deep in the sea

So to drown

The surface I broke

Then I stuttered and stopped

The surface I broke

My breath it was caught

In a water-filled lung 

My breath it was caught 

When the surface I broke

But oh the sun’s rise

As I looked where I’d come

And oh the sun’s rise

It loosened my tongue

And it lifted my eyes

It loosened my tongue

Yes, all the sun’s rise

And oh

My soul

It glows again

Micro Carnivalesque Rebellion

The following note was sent by our friends at AdBusters to individuals who've signed up for a week of anti-capitalist action or, as I promote in my response, pro-culture creation.

Our goal is to catalyze a sudden, unexpected moment of truth, a mass reversal of perspective – a global mindshift – from which the corporate/consumerist forces never fully recover.

Dear jammers, creatives, anarchists & revolutionaries,

As the days of Carnivalesque Rebellion draw near, a debate is emerging amongst our movement. On one side are those whose plans involve a raucous week of stopping traffic, letting off stink bombs and blackspotting billboards. Their argument is that only a festival of the most visceral kind of civil disobedience will shake consumerism to its core. Others, equally passionate and dedicated souls, say that the old lefty tricks of confrontation and escalation don't work any more. They urge a nuanced, slow revolution: a long-term meme war aimed at changing people's spirits and minds.

It strikes us that this is the same personal dilemma that each of us struggle with: deep down in our guts we know that the world demands a radical transformation of the global system. And yet, it seems impossible, perhaps even foolhardy, to topple consumerism and corporate capitalism by confronting it head on. Is there a way out of this impasse? What should we do this November? Send your insights to kono@adbusters.org

My Response:

Micro Carnivalesque Rebellion

To oppose a violent system with violence only reinforces the system itself. A fight against oppression will find strength and ultimately success through intelligent, peaceful action that exposes the greed and fear that corrupts any system it leeches onto, including capitalism. There's no sense in devaluing people just because they're a part of a system. Violence, anger, and aggression are immediate and dramatic, but they divert media and the masses away from real issues and create a smokescreen in which the freedom of plain and simple truth is lost.

We're all a part of this system to some degree whether we want to admit it or not; to war against potential allies postpones a win. For strong and sustainable success, our goal should be to win individuals and leave those who abuse the system to cling to power that is naked and ashamed, stripped of its numbing façade and seen for what it is, a system of twisted logic that will trample the individual for the 'good' of the whole.

With you,

Dave

Bloetry?

Blogged poetry (title?) often seems self-indulgent and I often stop myself from posting such things for that very reason. So it seems more appropriate that this poetic piece masquerade as prose. It might be meaningful, even outside of my own head, but there are only two ways to find out ...

Based on recent post: "God – the transcendent pyro – started a fire inside my chest."

Trees move in perfect sync - connected by nothing but the influence of the wind. Spirit responds in kind with Spirit, transcending time; quarks with quarks, surpassing space. The subtle inflection of each upturned leaf betrays the intention of a distant and identically interpreting other.

I bear witness and am likewise moved.

Rain, Rain (go) Away

As I push the pedal closer to the floor, droplets of rain rush to the upper corners of my windshield. I applied a product called Rain Away last week and, though I'll never really look forward to gloomy weather, I've been anticipating a chance to test this stuff out. 

Well, it's a success. Consider Rain Away recommended. My wipers are off and it looks increasingly like I'm moving at warp speed. 

You may call me Luke.

The past couple of weeks have been very full. Full-time work and part-time social life still leaves a bit of room for family, which is nice ... when they're here. Chuck's in Chicago and the 'rents are at the cottage so I've got a very silent house to myself. It's a good night to be alone. I'm feeling especially tired tonight – mind and body tired –here's hoping this makes for a good sleep ... right after this ...

I had a moment, for the second time this week, where I wished I could stop everything and take a picture. The first was prompted by hundreds of smokestacks/vents from a building south of the 4o1 in Whitby. The second I spotted on the way home tonight. Slick with rain, the concrete dividers were reflecting tail lights as our mirror image shifted in a staggered rhythm along the uneven, glassy surface. With the lilt of some sweet French folk music (90.3FM) and the dreamy after-state that only comes at the end of a long day, it felt like I was in a music video. Not that I could capture that on film, but the longing to do so was a part of the moment. 

Right. I'm wondering if this'll make sense when I read it tomorrow?

Either way, bon nuit.

All in All, It's Fantastic

After a few weeks of changes, I finally seem to settling into some semblance of a routine since the chaos that was thesis completion, Zambia trip, and a few other sources of sleep deprivation.

There are a couple of things that I have come to know more fully and that have stuck with me for more than a month after Zambia, so I figure they're here to stay.

The importance of Trust and the importance of Prayer. 

I'm still trying to figure out what exactly that means, but I wanted to get the blog ball rolling again after a prolonged absence, so, cryptic it is!

Also, (and this one's for you Ted) I've been running a couple times a week recently. Today I did my best 4k yet. All times are compared to last week's times to facilitate my own personal ePat-on-the-back:

• K 1: 4.30 (4.49)
  
• K 2: 4.41 (4.37)
  
• K 3: 4.10 (4.45)
  
• K 4: 3.38 (4.20)

Wooha! Have a sweet weekend ever'body,

Voice Memo

I love this function on my cellphone, but what's this memo from January 4th of last year? As though from another lifetime, I hear my halting voice say ...

"It sounds like the neighbors are slowly roasting their dog on a spit;
making revolutions over a fire pit,
but I can't see over the fence."

Oh.

Yeah.

Those dang rednecks, my dang subjectivity.

Skateboarding: The Goose and Gander Story

I love skateboarding. Not only is it good, clean fun, but it gives me the opportunity to discover other things that I enjoi. For example: photo ops (I really should purchase a legit camera), new friends, hidden urban treasures, bla bla bla. It's great to roll up to an unused parking lot and discover a spot that's perfect to skate – a spot that's somehow 'mine' now that I've discovered it. I'm a modern day Davestopher Columbus.

So, on the way back from the Oshawa Centre, I cut through the parking lot behind Mr. Sub and there, in the middle of the curbed island, was a nesting goose! Cool! It's like a nature show right there in front of me! As I rolled past the little mound of dirt topped with soft, down feathers and a plump mother goose, I took in the serenity of the moment. "I wonder why she's not getting all protective and stuff," I thought as I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye and, oh crap! DADDY'S HOME TOO! I hopped off my board and braced myself for the flurry of fury that was just behind me. He hissed as he swooped in and thrashed around my head wildly with his wings. He clipped me a couple times before I stepped back and swung my skateboard, but didn't connect because he had already started dropping to the ground to spit and hiss at me. (Just relax Ingrid Newkirk.)

I had been smiling since I saw momma, but now I was laughing as I pictured the whole scene as if from a lonely security camera in this abandoned parking lot. "When Geese Attack! Part # Doom" Actually, it's not that dramatic. I don't know who taught this goose how to wing thrash, but it wasn't very effective. A lot of noise and ... seriously, how threatening can a creature be when it's made of hollow bones and feathers?

So here we stand, me looking to snap a couple cell-pics and this gander – prepared to fight to the death to protect his family.




I was finished after a couple of pictures and began to walk away, which is probably what stirred up a fresh boost of bravado in our friend Dandy Long-Neck. He continued to hiss and came at my ankles with wings stretched low and mouth wide open. Did you know boards double as shields? I love skateboarding.

A Brief Update

After meeting with our Zambian contact on Wednesday, I'm more psyched than ever for the trip to Africa.

With a little help, the wild beast was domesticated on Thursday – tamed by a timely haircut. Side note: you know it's time, when the best thing you can do with your hair is to wear a hat.

I like salad. Especially as a conversation starter.

I think I'm more poetical when I write letters on the typewriter. Maybe it's the inability to undo, or maybe I convince myself I'm more poetical so I don't have to start the letter again. (<–– unintentionally rehashed Mitch Hedberg joke.)

Which brings us to today! A day that looks like spring and feels like winter. As they say, 'So much for global warming!'

Her Morning Elegance

Besides being an innovative and quirky video idea, I just love the rhodes piano in this song ... and the melody ... and the lyrics ... and the way it ends ... and the possibility that it's a song about a comatose girl living a full and rich life in her mind despite her illness. I don't know, it's a nice song.

Gumbo and fun ... yo.

I used to believe that Matt and Margaret could not achieve any higher status in my mind. They're just that awesome. BUT! Everything changed at Friday night's show.

I had a little outburst from the stage – wearing my heart on my sleeve is justifiably expected by most – because I realized that it was the most fun I'd ever had playing this acoustic, folk-rock, pop stuff that I can remember. Just when I assume that I've esteemed Matt and Marge just as highly as I possibly could, they go and blow me away ... again. Great musicians, and genuinely beautiful people.

It's not unlike having a second child. After the first, it feels like all your love is maxed out on that one kid. You start to worry: What if I have another one? Will I split my love between the two? Then, the second child is born, and somehow you overflow with more than enough love for both offspring ... or, at least, that's what I've heard it can be like.

Either way, the 'Bougie Down to Bourbon St.' FUNdraiser was a huge success in my books. A gumbo eating, acoustic rocking, childish dancing, fiddle playing, silent auctioning, hot sauce drinking, good time. 

Thanks to the organizers and to the kind people who came out to support their friends, specifically Andrew P. and my mom.

Hammerlogue

There's nothing like a brisk jog to start a crisp winter morning! A warm sun, friends at my side (Scott and Chuck), and, after a few kilometers, the threat of vomit. I've been swimming almost weekly since September, but this was my first run for something other than the bus, and after 3k I didn't feel like the champ that had trotted onto the street a few minutes earlier.

I've learned from reading Steve (my new hero in the blogosphere) that the compared measurements of time/distance are called 'splits' AND that 'negative splits' mean you're doing each lap faster than the one before it – which is apparently a good thing.

That said, here are my splits:

• K 1: 4.39
  
• K 2: 4.37
• K 3: 4.42
• K 0.5: 2.42

TOTAL: 3.5k and intense nausea in only 16.45!

To assist with this process I've started a manifestation of nerdiness (a spreadsheet) to keep track of my training progress for this year's competitive season. I've dubbed our training the Hammer Program, because we're hammering it out ... and we'll be hard as nails come summertime? Either way, the Hammerlogue will help keep track of the ensuing adventure. With 70 laps at the pool last night, a run this morning, and a blog to keep me honest ... we're off!

I Say, You Say*

I say … I’m developing a cheap and bottleless perfume.
You say … you’ll help me name it.
I say … it’s been done before.
You say … worth is contained in the bottle
I say … dispensed, it finds its value
You say … let me know how that works for you


*Inspired by an odd, one-sided conversation on the bus. The names and content have been generalized to maintain anonymity and to decrease the chances of the reader identifying with the characters "I" and/or "You".

Buns of Awesome

After two weeks off to accommodate certain academic pressures, Chuck and I were back in the water last night for our longest swim yet. It's still not that great, but we're getting better! We paddled to this rhythm:

Warmup – 500m (20 lengths)
Workout – Pyramid Swim
50m in 1:15
100m in 2:30
200m in 4:30
100m in 2:30
50m in 1:15
(Repeat)
Cooldown – 350m (then we got kicked out by lifeguards who were eager to go home after ignoring the swimmers and talking to each other for an hour)
That's 1.85k total.

I've never felt so good about a swim. It was great. Why? Well, I'm going to pretend that you care and tell you – I think I've found the perfect breathing/stroke rhythm! I know, right?! It's significantly sweet because it makes everything else a lot easier, hence the "never felt so good."

Buns of Awesome
Originally uploaded by the fod.

After this incredible feat of physical prowess, Chuck and I reached for a whole new level of awesome and stayed up till 2am to make and eat cinnamon buns.

Until next time, keep fit, and have fun!

A Writing Day at The Last Resort

It was one of those days where you say to yourself, "What the heck! I'll throw caution to the weak Toronto wind and just run, careless and carefree, to where my heart takes me. I'm going to break free from these desk and chair-shaped shackles that have monopolized my time for far too long. I'm off! Off to the cottage to ... uh, ... to do homework, but! not before I ... um, well, right after I move some furniture."

My dad and I left in the rented truck at 6-something in the morning. The pre-dawn chill was invigorating! (I wrote that sarcastically, but it really wasn't all that bad.) I fell into a death-sleep as we drifted through Barrie. It was one of those heavy sleeps where someone could have side-swiped our car, thrown a chainsaw-wielding bear into the cab, and my weighted eyelids would still have remained shut regardless of whether I wanted them open or not. It was nice. Sleep like that doesn't happen to me too often. Before I regained consciousness, we were (t)here.



After pops got things going inside, I packed some snow into a pot to melt for tea ...



... and we sat down to devour these huge, gravylicious roast-beef sandwiches. Our lunch steamed like it was made with molten meat and lava bread, which suggests that we're a) spirit-beings who remain unaffected by the physical realm 2) robots made of indestructible metal, or d) it was really cold and dry in there.

After lugging a beastly, wooden shelf thing upstairs with my indestructible robot dad, he left to check on a friend's place and I hunkered down by the stove for a bit of writing. Dad got a shot of the riveting action on his return.



It was a good trip. Dad's great like that – I guess it's called 'being content,' but even if we encountered the worst of circumstances and everything went horribly wrong, it would have still been good to spend time together. Thankfully, in addition to being fun and worthwhile, it was also a productive day.

Saving the World with Flour 'Staches

Flour 'Staches
Originally uploaded by the fod.

I'm busting my buttons with pride over a certain crew called Route 68. We had a Bake Sale last week and the Jr. Highs at King Street church baked their way to almost $300 dollars to help other people have a better Christmas. It was controlled chaos in our kitchen and an adjacent room, with enough icing to completely cover a small child. Thankfully, the multi-colored icing ended up covering cupcakes, well ... most of it, anyway. Of course, none of this would have been possible without the incredible generosity of the good people of King Street – which makes the whole experience a testament to a very sweet (toothed) community.

The funds will join other donations raised to feed, clothe, and buy gifts for people who need such things in Durham Region and in a village we've adopted in Bwacha, Zambia.

Apparently this economic slowdown has had a negative effect on Food Banks and charitable organizations in general. Let me take this chance to encourage you to keep on giving as you have been, or even start giving like never before. To feel the economic squeeze is to know that people need our help now more than ever.

Peace, love, and cookies!

An Ordinary, Lanoish, Quantumy kind-of Night

Lanois – Grit Rock
Originally uploaded by the fod.

The night began for me at the Bloor St. Cinema. High Fives for some dear friends before the film started, and I was off – walking, jogging, then walking again across Bloor and down Yonge to meet my ticket-holding brohim. I really wanted to see Ordinary Radicals, but I figure I made the right decision, since I can always see the film another time, whereas Daniel Lanois! ... well ...

The show was sweetly engaging. Lanois was like a shy person inviting new friends to enter his most favorite room in his home. He was charming, and somewhat awkward as he thanked specific people, including his mother, for being present. Not that it's awkward to thank your mother, it's just that he was awkward ... and he also thanked his mother.

The only other time he had been in the venue was when he was front row for Miles Davis in 1969, and he spoke more than once to honor the 'ghosts' of the great musicians that had played there before him. Brian Blade finessed those drums like a thunderstorm and I could feel the bass in my chest all the way up in the balcony. Bassist Marcus Blake and guitarist Jim Wilson from Mother Superior really added to the rock of the show singing gritty, yet clearly grand harmonies.

Apres le show we took a short trip to the basement to check out the merch, (along with all the balding, middle-aged men and their post-hippie wives) then Chuck and I stalked north, hunting for any restaurant with free refills. THEN! I am resorting to point form for the rest of this post because it's already too long.

– Meet up with Margaret (Who came straight from her own show)
– Decide to see Quantum of Solace – it's a Bond flick alright.
– Wendy's! – three Jr. bacon cheeseburgers and a water
– Call out some losers who were making fun of brohim (I don't CARE if he looks 'disoriented' when he eats potatoes, he's my brother and if you don't like that, well there's some good ol' fashioned Irish beatings for you ... metaphorically speaking, of course)
– TTC – I really do enjoy me a good transit ride home when there's good company to be had.

Goooooood night!

Poster-Sized Inspiration

I'm looking to prettify a huge blank wall in my office. I've actually been half-heartedly searching for over a year, but I have yet to discover any art that, first, is really great, and second, I can actually afford. Perhaps a healthy triptych of some sort would serve my needs (Mikee, this one's for you. You've been coming up with this stuff since you were in grade school.) ...

Refresh

I've been blogging on a dark template since I first started this thing in 2006. The green/white on black suddenly felt tired today, very much past its expiry date. So, now I have the same template ... except lighter, yeeeah. Does that scream "I don't like change!" ... ? That fear didn't inform my decision as far as I know – I just don't like the other templates. I'm over-thinking this. Last time I checked, my hits didn't warrant fretting over color-selection. (Yeah, that's right; 'color'. After years of including the superfluous U's that distinguish our cumbersome Canadian spellings, I'm done. Expediency and efficiency have won ... and if I write any more about this, it might as well be considered a redundant change.)

Moving on – Chuck and I are considering doing some triathlons when that season starts up again. I have no idea when that is, which may or may not be a fair indication of how prepared we are for such an undertaking. Either way, we did a little workout today which I'm sure was good. I'm guessing though. I think it was good mostly because I felt like vomiting when we were doing the last half of the run. Man, if each workout progresses to that point every time, I'm sure we'll be winners by next year. At the very least I'll be able to explain away my rake-like body type by pointing to a faded number written in permanent marker on my arm.

It was like this:

Bike: 7k
Swim: 3/4k
Bike: 7k
Run: 1k

For a reference point, the entry point for triathlons (Try-a-Tri) looks like:

Swim: 375m
Bike: 10k
Run: 2.5k

Okaybye,

CN Tower Dwarfed

It's old news now I guess, but as of mid-June the Burj Dubai (Dubai Tower) is over 100 m taller than our cute, little CN tower. What was once the tallest freestanding structure in the world is now ... not.

So, what's your claim to fame now Toronto? ... Multiculturalism? Unfortunately, that doesn't make for a very impressive skyline. That said, 'Most Multicultural' definitely has a nice ring to it ... a polyphonous ring ... a not-a-major-tourist-attraction kind of ring.

Story Time with Uncle Dave

Don't push me 'cause I'm close to the...
Originally uploaded by the fod.

My neighbours were getting into their car when I complimented them on their clothes.

"Looking good!" I said.

"Why thank you!" She sounded pleased.

She really did look good in her high-collared, white summer dress with black flowers on it. Her husband was equally bold in his freshly-pressed black golf shirt and black pants.

It was such a good start to the conversation, I just rolled with it ...

"I guess you're headed somewhere fancy tonight!"

Her response was emotionless, "We're going to a funeral."

...

So, above is a picture of the beautiful job I did paring the overgrown lawn back to reveal the never-before-seen edge of our driveway. I'm not going to say my efforts were an attempt to appease karmic law, but I was definitely at least partially motivated by the lesser cousin of guilt ... What's his name? ... Regret?