I think what I’ll do is instead of have a filter for spam emails, I’ll make filters for all the people I know, and they’ll go into a folder that I will call…AAAAA1PLUMBING. Yes, after 10 years with the same email address, spam has gotten that bad. Oh, I like this idea and I’m excited.
ps – If you want to hear the creeeeepy noises that my cat makes, head over to Stewie’s blog.
Last night there was a discussion between Chris (Woods) and Marlo (Carpenter) over sushi about…well about a lot of things but partly about how unbelievable it is that people let their governments walk all over them. I really didn’t contribute anything to the conversation, I mostly listened. I don’t think that people are any more dumb than they used to be. I think if anything people are generally smarter. I think one of the problems is that as there are more people and there is more technology and more bureaucracy, human beings become more dissociated with their environment. We’re given this oversize, clunky, labyrinthine system that we’re expected to fit into but we’re not given a manual to interpret it or the tools to tinker with it – not realistically; not in any manageable way. When a storm comes and knocks a big bough off of the oak tree in your yard and it wrecks your fence, you fix it by going out into your yard with tools and elbow grease. When you’re told that your country has to go to war to prevent destruction and that your quality of life has to suffer to avoid further disaster and so on – how do you fix that ?
The irony is that in recent times the people are much more in a position to control their own destiny than in previous eras of history, but now in the 21st Century we are waylaid by the barrage of impersonal, conflicting messages from an infinite amount of competing hucksters. We’re not interacting with voices, body language, and faces the way that the human being is designed to do, so we have no idea who or what we can trust, so we just shrug our shoulders and resign ourselves to hoping it will all work out while we enjoy our beer, hockey, video games and Star Trek.
Technology especially has made people languid. In the western world, most people’s connection with the things that are going on around them is through television. The ‘idiot box’ is actually a font of information, but it is a different format than a book or the internet. Generally information is available – but it is at best presented in tiny snippets that lack direction, focus and applicability. It is generally information that cannot be applied in any useful way.
The worst part about it is that very few people even think about it. They have had TV all their lives and it is, as Homer says: teacher; mother; secret lover. It manipulates. The entertainment and information available to you and me is pitched, designed, packaged, chopped up, polished (sexxed up), and presented, and we have the barest inkling how, or why, or by whom. The media constantly tells and shows us that there are many injustices in the world, but all it inspires us to improve is our griping skills, and of course to have nice hair, a nice lawn, a nice car and a better cell phone. It gives us plenty of options to drown our sorrows. It’s up to us to sober up for Monday morning.
It’s when people actually get together and talk that headway is made. I admire people who are interested in politics and I more admire people who are active in them. I myself don’t have the patience or the savvy to really dig my heels in. It’s enough of a challenge for me to figure out what the candidates stand for when an election comes up.
I was a violent child. I pushed kids off bikes. I kicked a girl in the crotch. I used to get in bouts with my brother, though most of the time I was taunting him and then running away from him around the table or locking myself in the bathroom. I also tried to kiss a lot of kids – and that’s the worst violence of all. But now, post-puberty, I am a pacifist/coward. Violence scares me. Not movie violence – when it’s not gratuitous it’s fine, sometimes even cool; cartoon violence cool and funny. And I think that people who can’t tell the difference between fictional violence and real violence have something wrong with their respective brains. In D&D whenever a player character kills a monster, I am occasionally quite graphic with descriptions of, say, gore spraying across your face as the weight of your sword slices through the neck of your opponent.
I’m sure everyone has their own history of violence. Jon was telling me about how he used to go to bars in Surrey and get drunk and pick fights. The telling of the story was hilarious, the horror insulated by time. Looking back on my youth, I can both laugh and cringe at my own antics. I definitely took more lumps than I gave out, over the years, and my only scars are from animals and accidents with glass and nails. I can’t remember the last time I actually hit somebody on purpose, with meaning. It must have been elementary school – almost 20 years ago. I remember shoving my second girlfriend hard enough that she fell down (in a grocery store, no less – I was 19 or 20 at the time), but holy crap did I ever weep about that and beg for forgiveness shortly after (she forgave me easily and I’m thankful for that). I can’t imagine any circumstance in which I would want to inflict violence on another human being. I sometimes doubt if I’d be capable of it, but I think in certain stressful situations, I could surprise myself. I hope that if Marlo was being raped I wouldn’t just stand there yelping and throwing packing peanuts at the guy.
Personally, it boggles my mind that there is so much violence in the world; that there are people out there, right now, punching one another in the face, probably not that far from me. And worse that others are shooting and stabbing eachother. I would like to propose that that is wrong.
Today was my first day “at work.” I work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday from 8:30 am to 5pm. I get a 15 minute break at 10:30 and another at 3:30. These are useless and stupid. Just when you start to relax, you have to go back to work. I also get a half hour lunch break at 12:30. You can’t consolidate your breaks into a full hour – also completely retarded. I don’t know how much I get paid. Ten bucks plus change, I think (per hour). The job is completely mind numbing and I am on my feet all day. Basically I am given a list to go shopping for books down the aisles of the huge warehouse at Raincoast Books. They have some cool books. I haven’t looked at the Art of The Invincibles yet but I aims ta. I don’t know if I get a discount but in the cafetorium they have a table full of FREE BOOKS. I took one today about writing for the internet. By gawd I could use that one. Um er ah, they also have a library and you can take books out for as long as you want. That’s neat. Other than that the job pretty much sucks, especially since I have to stop typing now so I can get close to 8 hours sleep (on account of I have to get up at 7). BLEEARGH! Oh well, it’s only until hexmas. By then I should have the cash to stave off the poverty hounds.
While I was walking to Marlo’s the other day I came across a car trap – someone had put down two strips of wood with nails all through them with the hope of blowing tires out. Now I’m not a big fan of cars in general, but I will not deny that they can be very useful and helpful, and sometimes necessary. But even my anti-car side cannot get behind that kind of grass roots terrorism. That’s just mean and destructive. Nobody is going to stop driving a car because some brats blew out their tires – they’re just going to get pissed off and make everyone around them more miserable. Naturally I picked up the traps and tossed them to the side of the road. I had this weird fear while I was trying to find somewhere safe to put them that somebody would see me with them in hand and yell “that’s the guy!” and come running towards me with a tire iron for, as Paul puts it, Operation: Bloody Vengeance.
I had already met Marlo’s parents last Christmas, albeit only for a moment, but on Sunday I spent many hours in Langley with them, along with aunts, uncles and grandparents, for Thanksgiving dinner. They were very nice, I like them, and I had a good time. They set up a kiddie table for me and Mar-Mar, which I was really excited about, but when I got back from washing up before the meal we’d all been switched around, and I was disappointed. The food was good though, especially the cheese before dinner. Marlo got bored of what she rightly called “old person conversation” which consisted of a lot of complaining about automated phone services, fascist strata councils, and the like. All universal and justified griping that (generally) people of any age can get behind, but somewhat drawn out and with a decided lack of the fanciful anarchistic “what if” scenarios and unforgiving sarcasm that we are used to in our circle of friends. I weathered it without much difficulty but I didn’t add anything to the conversation. Instead we asked Grandma for some drawing implements and started our own crafts table. Earlier in the day I had introduced Marlo to my childhood comics of “The Amazing Sming” so we wrote and drew up a new issue while we were there, with a rather morose ending. We also gave Sming a cat named The Remarkable Nif and I drew up a comic of her exploits as well. After dinner (our yam dish turned out so-so) we played a game called ‘Fictionary’ (http://www.rci.rutgers.edu/~axellute/fictiony.html) in which, briefly, players make up defintions for a real word and then guess which is the real one. We didn’t keep score but I will go so far as to say that I spent the most amount of time on my bogus definitions and it paid off. By the way, a nixie is an undeliverable piece of mail, and tragacanth is the gum from an Asian or middle eastern plant. So don’t say I didn’t tell you so.
So that was Sunday. I don’t even remember what we did on Saturday now. But today we went to Aberdeen mall and I got some cutesy little orange gloves and a plate and various candies, and…what else? Oh yeah I got some portfolio type binders. Most of that at Daiso. Marlo got some cool stuff too but she’ll tell you on her blog so I won’t waste my precious letters. Especially not ‘g’. Oh how I love that precious lower case ‘g’. They have a large fountain that fires streams that dance to lots of gay (not ‘gay’ in the good sense) music like “It’s a Small World After All” with coloured lights and everything. It’s very Vegas, and keeps the consumers enthralled and excited. They also have lots of loud, hard-selling salespeople and tantrumy kids. My lunch was not very good, but it was interesting and cool to be in a place for hours where hearing someone speak English behind me made me turn my head in alarm. We came home, Marlo made yummy stir fry, we finished watching Ringu and Marlo watched The Maltese Falcon while I drew. Now if anyone wants to ask me the difference between the Japanese and the American version of The Ring, I am as equipped as I’ll ever be.
Oh I just remembered what we did on Saturday. We went swimming at the Percy Norman pool, but we were both feeling under the weather so we didn’t stay very long. Apres that we went downtown and looked around Act One for some pointy vulcan ears. We had dinner at Roxy Burger and I wasn’t really impressed with the experience. The food was overall pretty good (I had a veggie burger), but I found that paying 8 bucks for a goodly-sized burger and an average-size serving of blandish fries, then on top of that having to pay 50 cents each for cheese or mushrooms or even dijon mustard (although I appreciate them even having the dijon option – also they had mustard at every table along with the ketchup so that was cool) to be a bit silly. Plus the ketchup was off and they didn’t have malt vinegar for the fries. We did get 10% off because of the bad ketchup, but I don’t count that as a plus, I count that as neutral. If they didn’t offer some kind of token material apology for a bad ketchup experience that would be a definite strike against them. This Roxy rant is going on too long. Suffice it to say my expectations were too high, but I would give them another try. I think I will try a chicken burger next time. Oh oh oh – remember how I just said that the Roxy rant is going on too long? Well another annoying aspect was that they had baseball on the TVs which is annoying in and of itself, but it was also several notches too loud. I really don’t understand why people congregate in bars to watch sports. Did the jocks already kick in their TVs at home?
Tomorrow is knitting in the buff. Join us, won’t you?
Today I drew a picture of the wizard Silent from The Black Company. And I think I have a job starting on Tuesday at Raincoast Books so I celebrated with some pizza (Kodos joined in the celebration – I’m surprised he hasn’t puked from all the bread). I taped the season premiere of Enterprise, plus a new episode of Justice League and Home Movies while I drew. Then I did up the debriefing/recap of what happened in D&D last night. It was all very exciting. The group took a new step this week in that they tied up some smugglers and slit their throats in cold blood. COLD BLOOD.
Well you’re a pretty kitty
Now grab those guys
And put ’em in a box
And tape up the sides
Now throw them into space
So they’ll stay up there
Cuz you’re a pretty kitty
With pretty kitty hair
I had a dream this morning about dinosaurs and other prehistoric beasts. They had escaped from who-knows-where and boy, were they ever hungry. They were eating everything in sight, and everything in site was generally people, or other escaped critters. I think it may have started in a museum. I was in a big hall and watched some tyrannosaurus eating something like a phororhacos (large flightless bird). I found some kind of potion or trick that allowed me to become invisible. However, this didn’t help when the sabertooth tiger and dire wolf (yes there really was such a thing as a dire wolf during the pleistocene epoch) used their keen sense of smell to find me, and I died as they ate me. It wasn’t really one of my scarier dreams, in fact I recall in the dream taking interest in finding out what the experience of being killed was like. I always wondered if the idea of being killed is actually more horrific than actually dying (presuming it’s not death by torture). Later on in the dream I was alive again and there was some kind of pod or car or cage, and a person was investigating when it broke open and the poor guy was eaten by an invisible dinosaur (I guess they learned the same trick I did). So I ran and hide behind a big upturned tree stump, just like I would do in real life.
Ah, the Big Lebowski. Between you, the Simpsons, and Futurama, there is a quote for every occasion.
Marlo is sick with cold. I too seem to have the virus that has been going around, but it has only manifested as a scratchy throat first thing in the morning. Otherwise I have yet to notice it. I love my immune system. I don’t subscribe to the philosophy that keeping your environment sterile is good for you. They say it weakens the immune system and that makes some sense to me. So, bring on the spoonfuls of raw sewage, baby.
Last night Marlo & Yvonne and I went to Seven Star Praying Mantis Kung Fu for a free trial lesson. It was much better than Cats. It was also much better than that Dutch guy’s Wing Tsun class. It was less crowded, the space was bigger, and the sifu John Funk was less nuts. He’s got a pretty good program – three 1-hour classes a week for basically 5 bucks an hour if you go to all the classes. Also they have a realistic-looking foam bust of a brute that you can pretend is your boss and kick him in the face. Marlo has her sights fixed on taking a class full time. I like the idea but it is unrealistic for me at the moment. There are many more free classes to try, I can feel it in my bones. Anyone have any experience with martial arts courses in the city?
Also, next time we eat dinner after kung fu, not just before. Oi.
