Some Sheep For Leslie

These are some of my Aunt and Uncles' sheep. They used to have a tame one named Dolly who would come when you called her name. Jack was afraid of the big guy and his buddies (not seen), in the second picture. This guy was almost 5 feet tall.

Restless Rain and Rustling

It's three in the morning and I can't sleep. The rain is pattering in the leaves. It's a nice sound. It makes me think, for no reason at all, of a night in Lille. Nikki and I stayed in this haunted hotel. Everything was covered in sticky film of dust, voices muttered down the halls and coughs came from behind the walls. It was an old building with a narrow staircase that twisted like a coil of a rope. An old man ran it. He wrote our names down in his ledger in a room whose only light filtered through threadbare curtains. We only stayed one night and only because we were sick. Perhaps because my throat is sore this evening I'm remembering this. We had been out wandering the ramparts of the old town when a storm whipped up. It was fierce and we had to dash from one doorway to the next until we made it back to our room. We huddled on top of the sheets with a blanket trapped in the gauze of the flu while the lightning cracked and the rain poured. I also remember that in the morning we had a fight. I was ready to leave by myself and go back to Milan. I don't remember what the fight was about. We rarely argued over practical things, or maybe they were to her and that was part of the problem. I only remember loving her and hating her passionately. Her bitterness burned me like acid and her tenderness in it's turn made me forget that we were being scarred over and over again. Somewhere in my heart I knew we weren't meant for the long road. Nonetheless I learned things I couldn't have otherwise. That sounds like a rationalization for a mistake and maybe in part it is, but with the years apart growing ever further I see how much I learned from her, about being myself, about forgiveness and unconditional love and about being passionate about the things that are meaningful to me without embarrassment.

I'm going to Montreal next week to see Sophie who will be visiting from Boston. It will be my first trip back since I moved. I'm not sure that it's a good idea since I'm still trying to place myself in my new environment, which is not easy. Right now I'd love a job where I was travelling all the time. I think I will go back to Boston with her for a while. I'm avoiding standing still and not going anywhere. The apartment doesn't smell like home. Not yet. The last place had four years to develop. Seems like a strange dream if I think about it.

It's still raining and I'm listening to Van Morrison singing Hymns to the Silence, I'm getting sleepy afterall. I just realized that I'm uncomfortable not having a history here. I feel displaced, which is probably why I want to be in motion. I'm not usually into late night ramblings here, but it's serving me well. It's a space I can occupy that feels like home. This blog, this digital glob. I guess this is the wail.

Stem cells

University of Wisconsin - Madison

One woman, for example had hepatitis C, a viral infection. But when her liver repaired itself, it used cells that were not her own.

"Her entire liver was repopulated with male cells," Dr. Bianchi said.

New Glob

I'm still setting things up with the new blog template. I made the links page and the archives today as well as an empty gallery page which will link to my photographs, drawings, paintings and such.
Then I have to rehaul rocketbooster's page which now lovingly says "Testing".

River dreams

My favourite song these days is Miss the Mississippi as sung by EmmyLou Harris
It was published in 1932 and was written by Bill Hailey which I just learned.

I'm growing tired of the big city lights

Tired of the glamour and tired of the sights

In all my dreams I am roaming once more

Back to my home on the old river shore



I am sad and weary far away from home

Miss the Mississippi and you dear

Days are dark and dreary everywhere I roam

Miss the Mississippi and you



Roaming the wide world over

Always along and blue, so blue

Nothing seems to cheer me under heaven's dome

Miss the Mississippi and you



Memories are bringing happy days of yore

Miss the Mississippi and you

Mocking birds are singing 'round the cabin door

Miss the Mississippi and you



Roamin the wide world over

Always alone and blue

Longing form my homeland, muddy water shore

Miss the Mississippi and you

Last Sunset

Usually I look forward to the autumn. I prefer the warm afternoons and cool evenings to the summer swelter. This year I feel sad as though the early darkness signals the end of something. I think this has to do with the move to Ottawa and seeing a lot of my family. In fact I've sen more of them this summer than the last three years added up. I was really struck by Rick and Kerrys father's illness. That's got to be hard and my thoughts are with you.

To add to my general downer of a mood the first new friend I made here is moving next Tuesday.

Songs About Change

I scratched out this doodle with a list of songs for a CD called Songs About Change last Friday so I was happy to see Jack's suggestion for a CD sideburn along these lines.

Frogs and Snakes

It's good to see so many frogs and snakes this year. It means the river is doing better than it has in years. When I was a child back in the 1970's it was much worse. It was a time when environmentalism was starting to take hold and years before recycling was an everyday thing. We still have a long way to go but I think people are generally more conscious of what they consume and the waste they create. It's relative though and hopefully we will improve on this as we go.

It was very sad to leave today. It's hard to watch your parents get old. My parents are now older than relatives who seemed ancient to me as a child. People get cancer, they have heart attacks. It's grim and I'm not getting any younger and Luna, who really is my baby, is now 8 years old which means she won't be around for many more years. It's all gone by too fast. Sorry for being on a downer. Life's still beautiful.

Closing the Cottage

We started to close up the cottage today. I put away the dock with Dad. I don't want to see him doing that again. He's getting to old to be doing that. it was a cold weekend almost like October. We ended up burning wood every morning it was so cold. I'm glad I got a couple of more days in though even if it was cold the sun was shining. I learned some more local gossip and realize I might have to re-jig my novel as real life is quickly outstripping fiction. Yikes.

Speech

This is for Korak or whoever has his e-mail. I quote myself here, "Dude, I was showing Secretion & Speech to some folks the other day and they loved it. We must continue once you are settled."
Please forward this message to the man. Thanks.

You Say Label, I Say Libel

It sems that the Bush brigade has tired of the "flip-flop" tag and are now trying to Howard Dean, Mr. Kerry by uttering "loose his cool" repeatedly, because Kerry is now responding to the lowdown dirty weasels attacks.

Globalization Means the Export/Import of Doctrines Too

Perhaps Mr. Bush is being trod on a little too harshly these days. After all the Bush doctrine is something that is gaining popularity in other nations.

Reading Ready

I've had a long time fascination with pirates. With the fantasy and imagery, the mythology and legend that is. Actual pirates are rapists, sadists and murdering thieves. They are and were scum. The latest book I picked up examines the images we have of pirates and the historical figures that these images grew out of. It's called "Under the Black Flag: The Romance and the Reality of Life Among the Pirates". I'm finishing up King Leopold's Ghost before I cast off with Blackbeard and company.
As I delve deeper into the nightmare world of the Congo Free State I wonder why this isn't as well known as other 20th century horrors. Apparently the Royal Museum in Belgium that still harbours an enormous collection of African art and artifacts pillaged at the time of the colonial exploitation and that it is a very touchy subject to this day.

Grapefruit Magic

I've posted about the strange and positive reaction I have when I eat grapefruit before. This evening I was hungry for something faty, chips or pizza or something along those lines instead I ate half a grapefruit and that not only satiated my hunger I felt something that I've only ever felt when I eat this fruit or when I have warm feelings towards someone ie love. Weird. It could be psychosomatic I guess but it's to distinct and sneaks up on me. I think it probably has something to do with my metabolism. Well obviously it does as I'm metabolizing the grapefruit as I digest it, but no other food has anything like this effect. For this reason it's definitely one of my favourite foods.

Canine Crew Collects Crowd

Having a dog is a good way to meet people. There's a regular bunch of us that met each eveningand let the dogs play. Tonight this went on for 3hrs. There's a good mix of pups and older dogs. One of the guys is having a backyard BBQ on Saturday so we will meet with the dogs the booze and the food at noon and then walk over to his place. Then in the evening I think I'm going to an Indonesian party. I'll be joining the local amnesty group in Sept. and maybe the indoor ultimate frisbee team. So I'm starting to ease into this new life quite nicely.

Dastardly Dancer's Disrupting Dive

Not since Ben Jonson lost his gold medal after testing positive for steriod use or the construction of the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, have Canadians had such a proud Olympic moment. A 31 year old Montreal man dressed in a tutu breached the 1.9 billion (CAN) Athen's Olympic security dressed in a tutu. He then stripped off his shirt to reveal the words goldenpalace.com painted on his chest before taking a dive into the pool.

Summer Palace

This is the old boathouse my grandfather built in Bristol Quebec

Cremaster or Creem Master?

I went to see the first two parts of the Cremaster cycle at the Bytown which is conveniently just a few blocks away. It's really nice to have this old style rep theatre so close. I'm not sure what to make of the films except that they were beautifully shot and heavily staged and begged for interpretation. They were in fact a lot more narrative in structure than I had thought they would be even if that narrative demands the viewer to take part in telling the stories. The imagery is obviously about reproduction but the second story was about Gary Gilmore the infamous murderer who was the first man to be executed in the US after a 10 year pause in capital punishment. I didn't realize this until the credits, nor did I realize that he believed, and in fact may have been, the grandson of Harry Houdini.

However, it is the type of movie where you either feel that the director is very clever if only because this is a necessary precondition to your own cleverness at decoding the otherwise obscure and incoherent imagery, or you feel that the director is having a lark. In either case it was a fine blend of the compelling and the tedious.

Most films do not stick with me. They seem to pour through me and only occasionally leave any residue behind that I can recall as meaningful and even then it's even more rare that I recall an entire film as a complete work. This is probably why these films work for me, because they are recalled like dreams on the one hand but have to be read more like a text on the other. So even though I was restless watching parts of the film the fact that I'm remembering things and still processing them means that this film probably will be digested and absorbed in the long term rather than pass through me like most films seem to do.

Sunday parade

Today I met a friend of Dave's from Winnipeg and I learned that each Sunday evening 100's of cars and trucks parade down the middle of his city. People style their vehicles with pinstripes and belching mufflers and show off. People sit outside in lawn chairs and watch this event. Why isn't this a national cultural keystone. This is all spontaneous apparently. No corporate encouragement nor formal organization. Why have I never heard of this?

King Leopold's Ghost

I started a new book last night which tells the tale of King Leopold II of Belgium and his drive to build Belgium into a great colonial power in the late 19th C. It's also the story of genocide, greed and the dawn of modern humanitarianism movements. In brief Leopold instituted an immensley profitable rubber and ivory industry in the Congo in the guise of bringing aid and enlightenment to "darkest Africa" but in fact was driven by slave labour and terror on a grand scale. A British shipping clerk, Edmund Morel, exposed the system after observing a constant flow of shiploads of rubber and ivory arriving in the harbours of Antwerp and departing with guns and ammunition. He concluded that the "trade"was in fact something darker and made a successful effort to discredit Leopold and his demonic explotation. The details of the trade are astounding with an estimated to be betweeen 5 and 15 million Africans slaughtered in the name of profits. What is most astounding of course is how this part of history has largely been forgotten.

There has always been war and exploitation but as we arrive the industrial age we also arrive at the "perfection" of genocide. By the time we arrive at the holocaust murder of large populations has become an assembly line "production". Europe, East Timor, Cambodia, Ukraine, Rwanda, Congo, Bangladesh, Armenia, China, Sudan. When one begins to compile a list of genocidal acts in our century the depths of the horror become unfathomable.

Big Top Flop

I finished Under the Big Top on the bus last night. Towards the end the authour puts forward the argument that the circus is a microcosm of US society. This argument seems redundant on the one hand, as he is writing about a segment of US society thus finding general characteristics US society as a whole is a given, and contradictory on the other hand as he then tries to distinguish the circus world as a refuge from mainstream society. Given the overall approach of the authour towards his experience, the need to present such a brief attempt at analysis seems to stem from a need to be saying something overtly significant and is ultimately unnecessary.
The book does present some interesting characters like Buck the 7 ft plus clown who likes to sunbathe naked, but for the most part I was glad to leave this circus behind.

Under The Big Top

I've always had mixed feelings about circuses. I'm attracted by the "outsider" status of the people who inhabit the circus world but I also hate seeing animals perform. Aside from animal rights issues I've never enjoyed seeing animals do tricks, even when I was young. I just never saw that as entertainment. I've been reading this book written by a man who spent a year living with one of the big three ring circuses and despite his clear love of the circus the people he depicts are extremly vain, often biggoted if not outright racist and or sexist and generally not very likeable. I suppose in all fairness that could apply to any social group. It really killed the remenants of any circus fantasy that lingered within me. The thing is the author really seems to try and like these people. After all he worked and lived alongside them.

Rocket Hockey Uncle

Uncle Jack died before I was born, but a few weeks before his second son was born. Uncle Jack cracked his skull on the ice being and all-Canadian boy. He was checked in a time when helmets were for soldiers not atheletes. Rocket Richard spoke at his funeral. I'm not sure why. Things were different then.

Shadowplay

This afternoon I walked over to the Museum of Civilization to meet Dave. He has some friends in town who perform Indonesian shadow puppet shows. I missed the actual show but attended a puppet making workshop. The kids made their own puppets and then performed their stories.
A lot of laughs. I loved the lizard who shouted out "I'm good at the boxing".

Snake Summoning

I was reading at the front of the cottage when Jane arrived in her kayak. Among the small-talk the topic of snakes popped up. "Have you seen him" she asked. I hadn't. I've seen maybe three or four snakes in all the years I've been coming up here I explained. Last Year I was standing here when dad said that he hadn't seen one in twenty years. Five minutes later this thing went slithering across the deck. Jane laughed and said that she probably wouldn't see another one for another twenty years herself. As she said this I looked down at the rocks and saw this fellow sunning himself. I now have a theory that they are everywhere but until our attention is drawn to them they are "invisible".

August Wanes

It's early August, but it feels like autumn. It's cold and the sun cautiously peers from under the quilt of clouds that blankets the sky. The atmosphere is one of summer's end and childhood memories come back to me of beach balls and blankets, umbrellas and toys, being packed away with the waning days of the season: Bedding and pillows are rolled up and put in sacks; food is stripped from the shelves. The noisy old fridge is hollow and silent. Mothballs are placed in drawers, ant-traps in corners on the floors, rat poison by little mouse doors.

The nights were coming earlier and the twilights were a deeper shade of violet. The morning air was crisper and pine needle carpet red was starting to bleed into the leaves of other trees. We get in the car and drive away down the dusty road to the highway that runs between the hills and the river towards September and a new school year.

The seasons are supposed to be a cycle. Summer turns to Autumn, Autumn turns to Winter, Winter turns to Spring and Spring brings us back to Summer again. The transition from Winter to Spring to Summer felt a part of the spiral turning ever up but with the passing of summer always felt like a farewell. A coda. A period. The end of the line. School meant familiar faces grown imperceptibly older along with a few new ones sprinkled into the mix. There was new math, new grammar, history geography, music theory, French. One passed through grades labeled 1, 2, 3. Time moved forward not in a circuit but onward into darkness.

The autumn had its own warmth though. The Halloween flame in the Jack-O-Lantern's eye, hot apple cider and cinnamon, burning leaves, the smell of pies baking in the oven, the huddle on the library floor as the red haired librarian read tales of ghosts and goblins and witches to twitching children. But these were all like torches of an unseen band that marched through the dark to somewhere else.

At the Dock

I Was Fired

I'm working as the busboy in a pub in some unknown city. We weren't very busy and the manager Phil, comes in. He takes me aside and we sit down. He starts telling me something. Tears are welling up in his eyes. He's talking to me about my work and it strikes me that in his roundabout way he is firing me. I'm more upset by the obvious stress he is undergoing than losing the job. "I've never had to let someone go like this before." I ask him what he means because I know he has fired people before. "It's not my decision" he says. "It's the new owner". The new owner thinks I'm not up to par. I remember her coming in on a busy night. She looked like Lucy Lui. She had on a silk dress and smoked cigarettes in a slender holder; a real stereo-type. I don't tell Phil, but I don't really need the job. I'm more offended than hurt. I get my things to leave when I see a guy I know clearing the tables. I quickly realize he has been hired to replace me. I wish him luck. He has a look of combined embarrassment and determination to get the job done (as though it were something more significant than table clearing).

When I step outside I can see construction workers about 15 stories up working on a highrise. They start dropping toy trucks and they are landing too close to me for comfort. In fact I'm certain that they are trying to hit me. I run and then I wake up with this image of Phil crying stuck in my head.

Memo From the Boss

I wonder how the "all-American" Bruce Springsteen will be sullied by the right wing propaganda zombies after this op-ed piece he wrote in the New York Times?

Queen and George VI

This photo of King George VI and the yet to be Queen Mother was taken in the 1939 along the old Aylmer Road near Bristol Quebec. It comes from Aunt Esther's photo album. It's interesting to see royalty trodding on the dirt road with what seems to be a sparse entourage.

Strange Storm

On Saturday I woke up to rain. They had promised sun. About noon the sun dashed over the water escaping the trail of clouds that limbered from the north towards the city. The air was fresh and we had a relaxing afternoon but by dinner the humidity had grown and the dampness was clinging. As we ate bursts of thunder and flashes of lightning came from across the river. The sun was still shining as I tore down to the dock to bring in the chairs, umbrellas, glasses and other paraphenalia. I paused and watched as the storm raced towards me. It's precise shape could be seen. To my left the sky and water were clear but to my right was a curtain of mist. It was as though someone had drawn a line down the middle of the sky.
When the front of the oncoming storm hit the beach I was inside. It was a torrent but the sun shone brightly nonetheless.

Blog Additions

I'd like to welcome two new blog links to the Glob Slow News Day and Songs to No One.

Local Critters

It's a rainy morning and I'm driving back in to the cottage from Shawville. I ran into my cousin Terry at the gas station. He's a dairy farmer in the area. I had George Jones in the CD player and Wanda Jackson. The old country singers have a reputation for performing songs with topics that are about dysfunctional relationships and melodrama. What I've learned lately about some of the family history makes these songs seem like people just telling stories about what goes on in their lives or around them. Peoples behaviour doesn't seem to have changed much through the years, only the social context of what that behaviour means and the consequences of it.

I drive past farms that I used to visit. People in the pictures I've been scanning lived their lives on them. Here's a farm where the daughter was a lesbian and the son bought the farm next door to his parents years ago and shot himself just last year for reasons that are unclear. Next is the farm where my great-grandmother lived and had a child out of wedlock. My grandmother. The parents of my great-grandmother adopted that child and raised the two girls as sisters rather than as mother and daughter. Such were the standards of the 1920's. Then I pass the old school house, the one in the picture below and enter the town where my grandfather had his general store and dance hall. There's a utility poll just beside the old house where a man burned to death installing the first electricity in the area in the 1930's. Next I pass the Pine Lodge and it's abandoned horse stables and ghosts. There's a lot I could tell but with discretion I will leave it here only to say all the cheatin' liein', back-stabbin', moonshinin' and monkey business in those old songs is all true.

Bristol Schoolhouse 1938

One of the projects I'm involved with lately is compiling and restoring old family photos for my father. This is the old school house in Bristol Quebec. It's still standing unoccupied. I drive by it on the way to the cottage. That's my Uncle Rolly in the front row on the right. The boy on the left grew up to be a real imbiber. When I was a child I knew him to be man who had a huge beer gut and a red face. I'm pretty sure he died from drinking related complications. I literally never saw him without a beer and he always smelled of it. This is the first time I've seen this picture and it's a bit sad to think that this little boy would grow up to be that man. We can talk of ifs and buts and choice and chance, of fate and freewill but only one course of events unfolds and once it's done it's done whatever the case might be.

New Friends

I feel better for Luna today. I found her a new dog gang in the park. I'll have to take some pictures. Dog people are usually very friendly, or at least the ones who socialize. I guess that's like saying social people are very social. In any case it's nice to have a new gang. We all ended up walking the same way home so there we are a gang of six people and five dogs.

The above is of Jack and Luna having breakfast at the cottage. Actually only Jack is having breakfast but it looks like they each have their own table.

Moth

Can anyone identify this?

Kerry and Edwards

John Kerry and John Edwards remind me of Batman and Robin. Guess who is who. Of course Kerry's dour graven face is a perfect Batman. Deep voiced monotone and masked. He's the man in the shadows. Who is he behind that cowl? Edwards is the younger colourful sidekick. He's got the gosh and the golly. He's not scary like Batman Kerry. In fact one lately has the impression that it's Edwards running for Prez while Kerry stands to the side nodding his elder statesman approval his granite hand resting on Edwards shoulder. I don't have a sense of how these two are being recieved in the US. it's more or less a given that Bush is a shifty creep up here. Granted there are his supporters but look what happened to Steven Harper when even a whisper of "Bush League." wafted over him, at least in the east. In anycase I'd like some American perspectives on Kerry/Edwards.

Luna

I worry that all this moving is hard on Luna. In the last month we've moved from Montreal to Dave and Sayuri's to the cottage to the apartment back to the cottage and back to the apartment.
She loves the cottage. She's very social and there are a lot of people around. She can come and go as she pleases, sniff the world. Pee at will. Imagine having to wait for scheduled piss times each day. She also had a great social life in Montreal. There's a nice park along the river that I found today and someone told me that there are dog meetings in the evenings so I'll check that out.

Miss Montreal

Yes she's fantastic but we had nowhere left to go. We had squeezed everything there was out of each other. I had nothing left to say to her and she was busy playing with other boys and girls. She's the biggest flirt and everyone seems to fall for her.

Words Wonder and Worry

Now that I am out of the habit of blogging I'm finding it hard to get back into it. I write blog entries in my head as I walk around and thoughts come into my head. This is a long time habit. I write letters, editorials, stories in my head all the time. I've been doing it since I was a child. Actually as I take the time to write this I'm feeling it all coming back. I just had to get back on that horse I guess.
I've been really busy lately visiting family, learning family history, enjoying the outdoors, getting back into life after the move. Today I actual felt landed. Then I felt lonely realizing that I am here and I don't know a lot of people. On the otherhand when I left Montreal most of my old friends had moved. Funny enough in the last few months I was there I started making loads of new friends. Mostly from meeting people in the park. There was a special vibe where you could invite people for drinks and dinner. I really miss that. I don't feel that it's so easy here. People are friendly but seem caught up in routine. That's not a fair judgement considering what a short time I've been here though.
What I love most about this city is that it doesn't feel like a city. The wilderness is very close by. Eventually I'd like to move out there. It means a lot to me to see stars at night, the woods, the wildlife, the water. I started to get that feeling back while at the cottage. I lay down on the dock one night and watched the stars until I felt like I was up there with them, which is sort of true when you consider out little planet is a speck in that vastness. I don't get a chance to feel that often though.

Donald MacDougall's Painting 194?

A Cottage Friend

Why I Haven't Been Blogging Lately

Sailor Billy of Bristol Quebec

Back in Blog

Finally I get to sit down for a moment. More acccurately finally I get to sit down near a computer in a non-work related moment.

One thing I do not appreciate about Ottawa is the Francophobia. There's a disntinct and open fear of all things french here. I know the narrative well: "The French are spoiled and selfish. They run everything and yet want more. They are not team-players. It's the same crap you hear about Jewish people. Here in the capital of a bilingual nation French is both master and dog. Montreal was so much more civilized in the linguistic arena.

It is a small town and I am feeling it more everyday, but there are people like me who like the calm and the wilderness at hand, people who like theater and dance and cinema and storytelling but who would never live in the "hell" that goes by the name Toronto.

Old School Punk

Thanks to Gnatterings for this quiz:
Which old school punk lead singer are you?

Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols


You fucking rock and you don't give a damn about anyone or anything.

which old school punk lead singer are you?

Canoe

We have this old cedar canoe that my grandfather bought from the Peterborough Canoe Company in the 1940's. It's in great shape and if it were refinished were worth quite a bit.

Friendly People

I met this beautiful woman today at the bustop. She started talking to me and had this amazing smile. Then I realized she was wearing a black name tag with her name etched in white. She belonged to a church. In anycase she was genuinely nice and waved goodbye from the park bench as my bus pulled away.

The truth is that people are generally very friendly here. I think I come across as the jaded one sometimes.

Dream House III

I dreamed about that house again. To answer some of your questions I don't remember all of my dreams but certain ones do stand out. I've always paid attention to my dreams though so I've "trained" myself to remember details and reflect on content. It's not unusual for me to take a few moments to review my dreams upon waking before I get out of bed. When I see that house I feel dread. I feel trapped. I feel death in the cracks.
I think you are right Cacao that it is something on my mind and so it takes on a life of it's own. The place I lived in in Montreal was in agreat location but it was a rickety old building with lots of faults. When I was married we lived in an old building that was kept in immaculate condition. We had glass cabinets with stripped and varnished wood and moldings, new windows, a pristine hardwood floor and new marble stairs that led up to the apartment. Then we got little Luna and moved to a less fancy apartment but still in good condition. The divorce came and I moved to the crooked old house. Recently I just moved from Montreal to Ottawa so I'm sure that all this house imagery is connected to my sense of self and the move.
Last night I was touring my new neighbourhood and I ran into a woman who had offered me a place in her house in the suburbs. In the basement. Ugh. No. I can't believe I even went to look at it. She is nice enough but it would have been horrible for me. I also so a building that was literally falling apart. The iron webbing was showing through crumbling concrete and a safety barrier was erected all around the base of the ten plus story apartment block. I experienced the same feeling I have in the dreams when I imagined anyone living there. Brrrr.

Dream House II

The house appeared in my dream again last night, but in the dream I was remembering the dreams I had previously and analyzing them. I noted that my friend Alefia was a rabbit in the dream who fled the building as it seemed to be on the verge of collapsing.

One of the stranger things about living in Ottawa is that I lived here last when I was 12 years old so most of my memories are from childhood. yesterday I drove past my old school and I could see the playground where we used to play marbles, where I won the gold medal for the flexed armhang, where I beat up Richard the Blabbermouth, the only fight I ever started. I remember the ugly feeling of the mob cheering me on. I was disgusted with myself afterwards. I passed the spot where the old hobby shop used to be and where I got my first model kit. Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hide with glow in the dark parts. I can still see the molded plastic rat on the base and the potion he gripped in his hand. I drove by the field where there used to be a drive-in theatre, where I saw Star Wars and the Blues Brothers in a double feature the summer of 1977 just before we moved to Saudi Arabia. Literally hudreds of memories flooded me as I drove through the old neighbourhood. I've never experienced anything like it. It's disorienting to all of a suden have so many of these dormant memories surface at such a quick rate.

Dream House

Before I went to Boston I had a dream I was looking for a new apartment. I found this rickety old house by the sea. I climbed the staircase and realized the railing was giving way. The floors sloped and the building swayed. I could see the ocean lapping away at the foundation. I had the same dream two nights in a row with minor variations. Monday night I was in the same house in my dream.

Cottage Days

On the way to the cottage on Canada Day we were hit by a freak summer storm that came off the river complete with bolts of lightning, a blinding downpour and hail. We had to pull over to the side of the road just before Aylmer. The dog was quivering with terror the whole time. Even stranger was that on the other side of Aylmer the road was bone dry.

Jack and I had a lot of fun playing in the water and making up games. It's exhausting being the fulltime play companion for a bright energetic seven year old boy for 4 days. We also read the Hobbit at night which was fun because for him it is very real. He gets scared and excited and laughs and begs for more. He also has a Hobbit Gameboy game which I'll have to admit was fun for me too.

We found a dead seagull on the beach and buried it. it was hard for Jack to see this poor bird limp and wet tossed on the shore. I told him that everything has a spirit and that the bird's spirit had left it's body and we could wish it well. He seemed to like this. It seemed obvious to him. even trees have spirits, he told me.

We celebrated my Grandmother's 90th birthday on Saturday but it had the pall of a funereal hanging over it. A strangely silent and sombre event. She is well for 90. She eats, talks, walks and thinks so that is great.

I'm moving into my new place in Sandy Hill today. Then back to the cottage for my holidays on Thursday through Monday. Then life starts anew on Laurier St.

Happy Canada Day

Yep, it's Canada's Birthday today and K-ob's tomorrow. Celebrate.

Ancients in Utah

This fascinates me. The remains of previously unknown civilization that existed around the time of William the Conqueror in what is now Utah has recently been brought to light.

Cottage Bound for Canada Day

Tomorrow is Canada Day which means a long weekend and I am going to the cottage to hang with Jack. Should be nice weather. I met Roger comet downtown and picked up the forms to put my name on the lease. I will move next Tuesday when I'm back from the cottage. Everyone is very friendly here and extra happy for the summer long weekend.

My Member of Parliament: Ed Broadbent

For the first time in my life I actually have a political representative that I admire. Mr. Ed Broadbent.

Distinguished as an academic, politician and human rights advocate

Fellow at the School of Policy Studies, Queen's University

Companion of the Order of Canada

Member of the Privy Council of Canada

Recently co-chaired the national inquiry on Canadian Democracy and Corporate Accountability, exploring issue in Canadian democracy

After obtaining a PhD in Political Science at the University of Toronto in 1965, taught at York University until he was elected to Parliament in 1968

Led the New Democratic Party from 1975 to 1989

Known for his work while NDP Leader for an equitable tax system, equality for women, and the constitutional entrenchment of aboriginal rights

In December 1989, moved a motion -- unanimously adopted in the House of Commons -- that committed the government of Canada to end poverty for Canada's children by the year 2000

Served as founding President of the Montreal based International Centre for Human Rights and Democratic Development from 1990 to 1996

Worked with those involved in the struggle for democracy in Haiti and Burma

One of the four international judges to sit on the Tribunal on Violations of Women's Human Rights at the United Nations Conference on Human Rights in Vienna in 1993

Served as a member of the panel of experts on the International Tribunal on Rights in Haiti in 1994

Visiting Fellow at All Souls College, Oxford University, 1996-1997.

Splitting the Vote along the Fringe

When I filled out my ballot yesterday I was surprised to see that there was not only a member of the Communist Party of Canada running in my riding but also a member of the Marxist-Leninist Party. Looking at the number of votes cast the Marxist-Leninists are twice as popular as the Communist Party and almost 5 times as popular as the Libertarian Party. The Marijuana party" however outdid them all combined being the third most popular of the fringe parties, ranking just below the Christian Heritage Party (yikes they call for Canada to become a theocracy). The Green Party was the only fringe party who rose above 1% of the popular vote with a significant 4.3%. Oh and we have one more called the Canadian Action Party which seems to be a Canadian Nationalist party.
Intersting note: The Marxist-Leminist Party is the party's registered name but they also call themselves The Communist Party on their web-site. Who says communism doesn't breed competition.

Blurp

It's a relief that Harper is not Prime Minister that would have been insufferable. I'm off to the cottage Thursday to have a visit with my parents and my nephew Jack. It's great how close the cottage is from here...45minutes.

Roti

Sunday night Dave and I went out for Roti at a place where his friend, F from Monseratt is cook. F is a really randy old dude who loves garlic and white wine. A sweet guy. He asked Dave if he would introduce him to Sayuri's mother from Japan which would be quite an intersting match.

I went and voted today. It turned out all I needed was some ID and a bill with an address in the riding. I voted for Ed Broadbent, the old warhorse of the NDP. It's the first time I've ever voted for a politician that I respected and who won his seat. It felt good. Little Bushman Harper didn't come close to being Prime Minister. Thank you fellow Canadians for your good sense. In fact with the NDP as the Kingmakers we can expect a centrist to left government. Perfect.

To end the evening we watched Throne of Blood. Kurosawa's interpretation of MacBeth in Feudal Japan.

A Certain Plot

Here's a fascinating little history of New York from the focal point of ground zero, in the NYTimes.

Saturday Night at the Movies

We went to see Farhenheit 911 last night. If anything it falls short of being able to cover the scope of the corruption and deceit that characterizes the Bush legacy. I walked away realizing just how much material there is available from his days as a frat boy through his Governorship of Texas, his appointment as President by the Supreme Court his seemingly willful alienation of the rest of the planet, the fundamental lack of respect for democratic process and open government, his attack on the poor and on and on it goes. Moore seems to imply that there is a connection between Al Qaeda and the Saudi government who definitely are great friends of the Bush dynasty, but what he glosses over is the fact that Islamic fundamentalists would love to throw the Saudi Royal family out of power and break off relations with the USA. He seems to be saying that the Saudi government and the 911 terrorists might be in cahoots.
In anycase the movie is damning of the Bush administration and if you look past the lampooning there are lot's of facts to show what an inept President Bush is. The core message here: Bush is dangerously unqualified to lead the nation.
As to winning the Palme d'Or at Cannes. As a film it's surely not the most accomplished, so one has to see that it's getting the award for it's emotional impact and guttsiness in a political climate that makes it's message more significant than it's artistry. Worth seeing though especially for the footage of Bush putting his feet in his mouth.

Settling In

We drove up to Wakefield in the Gatineau last night for dinner. It's all beautiful green hills like in Vermont with lot's of little lakes. You know you are north when you see a sign that says highway ends in 300m. Wakefield is very cool for a rural town there's an inn there on the lake called the Black Sheep (Mouton Noir) where they have alternative folk music etc and there is a veggie friendly café up the street called Chez Eric. It's all very mellow and I'm really loving the clean air, if oxygen had a flavour you could taste it. There is so much undeveloped green space in this area that you are aware that you ride on the cusp of where the great North American sprawl ends and the forests of the North begin.

The federal election takes place on Monday. I won't be able to vote because of the timing of my move. It's a very important election as the direction the country takes is going to be determined. It would be interesting if Canada goes to the right with extremist Stephen Harper (who now pretends he never said "that") and the US throws Bush out on his sorry ass. In any case Kerry isn't that far from Bush in many of his policies and would probably get along well with Harper. I really hope that he does not become Prime Minister but there is a real chance. I don't know why Paul Martin hasn't focused on his own achievements which made Canada a strong economy with low unemployment and zero deficiet instead of focusing on how awful it would be for Harper to win. I suppose he is trying to distance himself from the "sponsorship scandal" of Chretien's government but it has been a poor strategy.

I move to Laurier Street on July 5th near the university. Next weekend it's Grandma MacDougall's 90th Birthday!! Wow. She is still going strong fuelled by righteous indignation I suppose.

I took the 16

It's about 15 minutes from Dave and Sayuri's "woodland" home to downtown. I went to meet my new roomate who I'll call Roger Comet. He's a nice guy , a bit intense, but I can deal with that cause he's got a heart. On the way home it was dark and I had because of the lights in the bus I couldn't see where we were. I had to "feel" my way and missed my stop by a block. Ottawa feels like an imaginary place to me. It's not really a city, not really suburban or rural, but some unique amalgamation of all these. Underneath everything is this rich resin of my childhood imagination. It's really fun to see that all come back to me through the lens of all my experience since then. What a great life I've had. I don't think it's random that I came back even though it'sd not clear to me yet why I am here as opposed to some other Ontario city. Sadly I think Stephen's passing has a large role to play. It was a fuse in a sense. Maybe I'm trying to close things that started when i was twelve and chabged dramatically when I we stole away to Saudi Arabia.

Back in the Saddle Again

I took a slight detour through illness but now that I am healthy I can feel the energy flow and the music is back. What I mean by music is that while I was sick there where no songs going through my head. I only realized this today when the music returned and I felt normal. When I was sick there was a cavernous silence in my thoughts. In any case the projects I'm working on are benefiting greatly from my new locale not to mention Dave's input.

In case you didn't notice the links to the other blogs ar animals. If you don't like your animal or would like another let me know and I'll change it.

Back in Blog

It's been a week since I moved to Ottawa from Montreal. It was a busy time packing and saying goodbyes. Dave K came to MTL and we loaded up the Van last Monday . It's really trippy thinking of myself living here as I was born here but left when I was twelve. All my points of reference are from the 1970's. I'm Rip Van Winkle here. To top it off I came down with the worst flu I've had in a long time. I'm just starting to get some energy back tonight. I feel almost human.

Sayuri's mother arrived from Japan this evening. She doesn't speak any English and I keep finding myself trying to speak French with her.

Went out with some friends last night and lughed ourselves silly. Real fun. So far I'm really liking it he aside from being sick as a dog. Rents are higher than Montreal (of course) but there are lot's of vacancies. I'm hoping to leave fairly central if I can. Probably near Chinatown. There's a lot of possibilities here. It's the kind of place that makes me feel like getting married and having kids. Likely because I was a kid living with a happy family when I did live here last time through.

I'm still feeling weak so it's early to bed.

New Blog Skin

I'm not sure I'll keep this one. Not exactly what I had in mind feels like a school in the 1950's.
Updates forthcoming on Ottawa life.

Ottawatonian

I did it.

1992

After the Sticky Wicket I went to Owen Sound with Shadow who found a new home on a farm. I went to Milan.

1992

Transition

The black is not for Ronald Reagan's funereal but for the end of my Montreal life. This is the last weekend. An hour earlier I watched as my old furniture was splinterd and ground up in the back of a garbage truck. It was beautiful. I felt such satisfaction. I could feel it's weight leave me. There was no sorrow or attachment. It's been a good decade here and I feel that everything is happening as it should. It feels good and I'm energized by this. One thing that is strange is that I made a bunch of really great friends this winter growing into spring and now summer. People that I will be in touch with to varying degrees. Really interesting and kind people.

So old Ronny goes to where ever well intentioned murdering fools go and I go to the Ottawa Valley where I was born and lived until we moved to Daharan Saudi Arabia when I was twelve, where my good friend Alefia, whom, I met in drawing class was raised, and the setting for the next chapter in the story of global madness that is unfolding and where my new friend Andy served in the Gulf War in 1991. It all comes around.

1996

Here I'm at Miramare on the Adriatic just outside of Trieste. This was the estate of Maximillian of Austira who went on to become the Emporer of Mexico where he was shot during the Mexican revolution. Miramare is now a public park. Viva la revoluzione.

1997

Baby Jack and Uncle James. Sunday morning rue Edouard-Charles

Pere Lachaise

1989. Our young friend reads a map in the graveyard in Paris.

Ray Gun

Ronald Reagan was my first political "foe". Way back in 1980 when he was elected president I remember my Uncle Peter saying Reagan was a 'warmonger'. Lennon was shot that fall, and then RR himself, soon followed by the Pope. The same Pope who scolded Bush the other day saying that Capital Punishment isn't compatible with "the right to life". Why Bush was probably snorting back a line about the same time John Paul bit lead.

Reagan was a hollow-headed muppet. The first, president to master the sound bite. He also sponsored the death squads of Guatemala and fucked Nicaragua's elected government over (although they did originally come to power through a popular revolution, but so did the US after all). He made sure the "Contras" had plenty of bullets and were accountable to no-one on the other end of the barrel.

He's now being celebrated for making America feel good. McDonald's, Nicotine and Porn keep the tradition alive, although McDonald's and nicotine may soon join him.

1989

A lot of wine in Avignon.

Packing Time

So I've cleaned out the office, kitchen and other rooms except for the essentials and I still am one week away from the actual move. It feels good to have unburdened myself of a lot of crapola that's accumulated over the years. I'm exhausted mind you. Tonight's the Cup final game so I'm obliged to watch it. Oh so tired... fading...

1992

Q: Was I going for the Jeezus look, or the Black Sabbath era Ozzy? A: Both.

Farhenheit 9/11 Trailer

Here is the Farhenheit 9/11 Trailer.

Saturday

Movietime

I always knew that I could make short movies with my digital camera, but I didn't figure it out until recently. Nothing special here, just Annick pretending not be a star.
( 4mb )

Situation in Sudan

The situation with displacement and state sponsered terrorism in the Sudan is now reaching into the realm of genocide. Decribed as "the world's worst unfolding humanitarian crisis" in the Guardian, 300,000 people are expected to die if food isn't provideded soon. A Un plan is in place to deal with the situation which would include the following:

• feeding 1 million people;
  
  
• drilling boreholes and providing water pumps and tanks for the camps;
  
  
• providing basic health care for 90% of the displaced;
  
  
• helping the displaced build temporary shelters;
  
  
• distributing seeds and tools to 78,000 families;
  
  
• deploying ceasefire monitors and human rights observers.
  

The basis of the problem however lies with the Sudanese government. Contact them as follows:

USA:

Embassy of the Republic of the Sudan
2210 Massachusetts Ave. NW
Washington, DC 20008

Tel: (202) 338-8565
Fax: (202) 667-2406
info@sudanembassy.org



UK:

Embassy of the Republic of the Sudan
3 Cleveland Row
St. James’s
London, SW1A 1DD
United Kingdom

Telephone: 020 7839 8080
Fax: 020 7839 7560

Email: admin@sudanembassy.co.uk



Canada:

354 Stewart St
K1N 6K8
Fax: 613-265-6880
E-mail: sudanembassy-canada@rogers.com

1996

One of the interesting things to me about moving is discovering old notebooks. I don't remember doing this drawing in 1996, but I did. It would have been when Nikki and I lived on Edouard-Charles.

Packing

What is this?

Japanese Commercial

Steven Harper leader of the Brand Spanking New Traditional Conservatives now explains that when he said that Atlantic Canada was a "culture of defeat" that what he meant was that the Liberal Government had dumped a bucket of sorrow upon the Maritimes and that is what turned them into said culture. He also now explains that when he said Canada should have supported the US in it's Big Iraq Attack that he really meant we should have patted Bush on the shoulder and whispered, "It's gonna be okay." No soldiers. God no. You see how different he is than other politicians. By God this man has made backtracking into a spectator sport.

In other words he's just another politician puppy begging for whatever scraps and treats you throw him.