6.30.2004

Peter Parker and the Politics of PhD's

"Your professor tells me you're brilliant, Parker. He also tells me you're lazy."

So if you ever find a girl who's down enough that she calls you at work and says "Hey, you wanna catch the midnight opening of Spiderman", you date her.

Certain things excite the geek in me: the above girl as stated, but also, movies like Spiderman 2. Because for all it's/her problems, it/she fukking rules. That's not a very intelligent review, nor is it a novel correlation between my girlfriend and geeky movies, but there you have it. Now go suck my larynx. (Word up to Zana.)

There was a drunk man in line beside us. We were worried that he might sit next to us, but much to our delight, he whispered "I am dead to the world" several times, a putrid musk of barley floating from his chapped, slurring mouth, and then returned his ticket and promptly left the theatre. His other less drunk friends didn't seem to care and neither did we. I can only now hope that his poetic declaration of "deadness" simply meant he was going to pass out, and not that he was going home to take a romantic bath with his toaster oven.

Either way, though, the movie rocked and we were eventually able to find good seats after pulling a last minute ticket/theatre switch. A large unruly asian man beside us was busy yelling "come on, don't waste my time" to the theatre workers, protesting the paperwork involved with switching tickets. Chris and I, however, were high off salt, gravy, and (in my case) the nostalgic memory of pulpy comic pages wafting into our noses. We couldn't be happier. There was no time to be wasted for everything was perfect.

Nice night I had, yes? Well, in order to balance the scales of this uncharacteristically cheerful entry, I will depress you with the following thoughts from the fine blogger over at The Spoonbender.com.

This one's for the 1/4 Life Crisis Club:

The problem with John Kerry's proposed education plan -- the one he claims will create one million more college graduates than are currently forecast in five years -- is the premise. America needs fewer college graduates, not more.

I don't want to sound like I'm against education because I'm not. Except for black people.

Seriously, though, this isn't about education. This is about the job market. Ask anyone that graduated college after, say, 1985. There is simply too much competition for the kind of "professional" jobs a bachelor's degree used to all but guarantee. And that glut of college graduates in the job market has resulted in reactions that have only exacerbated the problem.

First, employers begin to claim that a college education is a job prerequisite, even for those which it's clearly not necessary, simply because they can. Take, for example, the position once known as secretary. Now, before all you little ladies email me nastygrams, I chose this job as an example because it's something with which most people are familiar, not because I think a stupid person could do it. On the contrary, it's very difficult work dealing with terrible people that is largely thankless, except when it comes to corkboard space for Cathy cartoons. I respect secretaries. Especially when they're hot and wear short skirts.

I'd speculate that, as late as 1990, very few secretaries held college degrees. Today, though the title has changed to receptionist or office manager or assistant, the job duties remain essentially the same. If anything, I'd guess the work's gotten easier, what with copy machines replacing mimeographs, direct voicemail, computers loaded with solitaire, and sexual harassment laws. But ask around and I think you'll find that about 70% or more of secretaries now have college degrees. The difference, of course, is that secretary was once a career. Today, like every other god damn job, it's a stepping stone to something else that will never materialize.

In reaction to job qualification inflation is an increase in graduate school enrollment. Predictably, this is followed by a glut of graduate school graduates. Glamorous teaching jobs such as those in college, already scarce because of tenured baby boomers, drive those with advanced degrees into the non-education job market. There they begin to compete with the already fucked bachelor's degree holders. Soon, the secretary with the BA in English has been replaced by a much less cute chick with an MFA in Poetry.

Recognizing the inflation of job prerequisites and increased competition, people realize that, to land any decent job, a college education is necessary. Demand for undergraduate and graduate schools increases. The higher education industry responds, and colleges grow in size and number. Cost increases while admission criteria fall. Now there's a college for everyone, no matter how stupid. In fact, there's a grad. school for everyone, as long as you can pay.

This, of course, while high schools crumble nationwide.

Let's summarize. Today, we have stupider college graduates competing for the same jobs smarter high school graduates used to hold happily. We have a public primary education system being slowly replaced by a private secondary education system that provides schooling the quality of which varies wildly. We have a system in which, essentially, the test of whether you deserve a job is how rich your parents are or how much debt you're willing to take on.

We have a nation of BA's mowing lawns, baristas with Master's degrees, and book store clerks with Ph.D's, all of whom think they're overeducated and underemployed, when, in reality, they've just invested more money in a lot of weak education. And what solace do we, as a society, offer these poor souls? Blogs.



If I were a father of a high school senior, I'd encourage him to become a contractor. Those guys make a shit load and they get to write off their trucks.


So uhm, yea. Baristas with blogs. Ain't it the sad truth?

(Picture added by me. No, that's not me in the picture. Thank you, Starbucks.com.)

φзαςє.

6.29.2004

If You Can Dodge a Wrench, You Can Dodge a Ball

About three hours away from closing-time, Maggy, Tony and I started arguing over who's had the biggest fall from grace. All three of us have been in some equivalent of "The Challenge Program" for advanced students, have been honor roll students, had been accepted to great programs in great universities but declined, and now all of us are still (after *years*) working in Starbucks, still without degrees that we should have earned years ago (or in my case, this year).

Tony eventually won. Apparently he's also skipped two grades, was offered scholarships to some big-shot programs (I don't know about stuff like that, but Maggy did and was astonished that Tony is where is his today), etc etc.

It took us about an extra hour to close the store because we became so fucking depressed. Once we locked the doors we went outside and had a smoke. We then trollied down to Jack's for some more bitching, what Tony and I now refer to as "The Quarter Life Crisis Club". What's both good and bad about Starbucks is that it's filled with brilliant burnouts. Bad of course, because it makes you feel okay with it.

I came so close to telling my parents that I am dropping out of school, so close that it actually made me sweat. It was perfect: we were sitting at the dinner table, silent, calm, they were heading to the cottage in a couple of hours, and I had to work later that night. The perfect time and duration to drop the bomb, discuss, and get the hell out, with them gone for the rest of the weekend. I repeatedly pushed myself, "tell them, tell then now you freakin' idiot", only to continue silently chewing on the gummy barbeque beef sitting before me, tiny globs of fleshy pride that I just couldn't swallow. I then got up, excused myself from the room, and went downstairs to watch anime.

Sure, I bitched out, but the very fact that I came so close shows that it's almost time. I will tell them sooner than later. Soon. I can feel it.

Skipped martial arts a lot last week because the fighting blew up again between me and my girlfriend. We're all good now. Better than I could have hoped for. For awhile I thought it might end, which is a big thing for me because I've never had those thoughts yet with her. It's good to have all that stuff resolved now, more or less. If there's one thing me and Christianne are good with, it's dealing with problems. It may not look that way, what with the screaming and all, but really, we deal nicely.

Rohan got his ass fired from the 'Bucks. Two weeks ago he was gunning for Supervisor, now he's getting his broke ass experimented on with low-level THC to make ends meet. Rohan's my boy, and for someone who's really intelligent, he's dumb as dung sometimes.

We all steal shit from the store, and we all take shortcuts. But what we don't do is blantantly steal books and drinks when the manager is in. Furthermore, we don't then try to convince the manager that we paid for ten hardover books and don't have the receipt (at say, what, 50 bucks a book?), or that we bought that bottle of Frappuccino two days ago and saved it at home so that we could bring it into work later that week and drink it on the floor.

Voted NDP today. They got their lefty asses handed to them in my riding, but fared pretty well in the national scheme of things. They haven't had this many seats since, what, the early 80s? Too bad Chow didn't win her riding though. For awhile I was worried Layton himself wouldn't win his own riding. The NDP works well as the conscience of the House of Commons, and I'm glad they've earned enough seats to perform that function.

Has anyone seen Mike Mancini? Because he isn't at KATA.

This week: Spiderman 2, Farenheit 9/11. I'm geeked.


"Fukkin Chuck Norris"

φзαςє.

6.24.2004

Rest in Peace

Rest in Peace, Kim Sun Il
while the ghosts of our culture
play Dodgeball with your
severed slant eyes.

On this Thursday'd Sunday,
the sun sets on our situation;
never more pivotal
never less likely to budge.

You screamed on television and begged
and lost your stereotype
lost your reserve, your Korean resolute
while television resolutions ran red.

"what's up with the repeats?"

You and Nick Berg can play chess now
with both sets of pieces colored photocopy gray
rook to king knight seven
queen set to move:
"off with their heads!"

You were so scared with no way to prepare
no way to fathom the father of history
the legacy of deaths left to die
in the graveyard of history books

They garbed you in that US Prison Orange
Agent Orange
Orange Alert
that ominous pastel we know nothing rhymes with
cuz nothing rhymes with screaming.

Nothing rhymes with silence.

Poetry has failed
and still you lay in heaps
of double meanings
oil spills of jet black hair
sand storms of eye dust crusted tears
love poems and war songs.

You breathe metaphors now
sitting on the right hand of symbolism

bleeding into the

negative
space

pushing pencils does nothing to erase.



φзαςє.

6.23.2004

intermission

I was going to write a long rant about politics, and race, and that boring stuff. It's really long though, and I can't finish it right now. Maybe it's too long. Maybe it won't make it out of the draft stage and never be published.

In the meantime though, for old time's sake:



φзαςє.

6.22.2004

i'm so down, when i give pounds, they call me suicidal.

Are You Down?
The Code for Being a Young AA/APA/APIA/AAPI Activist
By Minnie Yuen ’04, Margot Seeto ’04, and Lisa Wong Macabasco UC Berkeley ’03 (guest writer of UC Berkeley’s Hardboiled).


One point for each question answered in the affirmative.

1. You own a BlackLava t-shirt. (+1 if you have the V. Chin shirt, +2 if you wear it to Asian American events.)
No, but I almost bought one. Most of them are kinda tacky, sorry Blacklava. You know I love you.

2. You own a spoken word CD.
One Point. 2 Saul Williams joints, "The Spoken Word Revolution", and a bunch of random mp3s.

3. You are or once were a spoken word artist. (+1 If you performed in a skinny scarf and spaghetti strap tank top.)
I'm giving myself a point, even though I've never performed.

4. You hate Abercrombie & Fitch and dog on Asian Americans who wear it, even if they bought it pre-boycott.
Oh hell yes.

5. You think Yuri Kochiyama is totally rad!
Alas, I have no idea who this mofo is.

6. You own an autographed copy of “Better Luck Tomorrow.”
Does it have to autographed? Fukkers, I'm not doing too well...

7. You have a poster of one or both of the following: 1. Che 2. Malcolm.
Sigh...Does a Che penholder count? A copy of Spike's X on VHS?? I'm giving myself a point. Dammit.

8. You HELLA think that San Francisco is the center of the universe and the APA Movement.
Hella no.

9. You dyed your hair bright red at one point.
If I ever had hair, I'd still laugh and say no.

10. You protest the Euro-centric, hegemonic, patriarchal, heterocentric, capitalist petty bourgeoisie of THE MAN.
Now we're talking. Fuck the man and his soy lattes too.

11. You are a “brother” or “sister” of the “The People’s Movement.”
We're stepping into a territory we don't belong in. But I'll give myself a point anyways.

12. Instead of saying “goodbye,” you say “peace”.
Yes. And I mean it too.

13. You have a Xanga, are on Friendster, and were a part of Asian Avenue.
I have a Blogger instead of the asian friendly Xanga, but it's listed on RiceBowl, so there.

14. You write your Friendster testimonials in Spoken Word verse.
Ghey.

15. You AIM name includes the words “Angry” or “Asian” or “Yellow Brown Power.”
Once upon a time, yes. And my MSN pic was of Secret Asian Man (SAM) too.

16. If you wear glasses, they must be the thick, plastic, black rimmed glasses to show the world how intellectual you really are.
Them shits make my scalp look too big. So no.

17. You are an APA conference whore.
Never heard of any around here...

18. You cried the first time you heard “I Was Born with Two Tongues”.
Say what?

19. You majored in, minored in, or helped start Asian American Studies at your school.
Technically no. But I was getting really into it before I dropped out. I guess that's still a no point, though.

20. You only listen to hip hop and only really enjoy Talib Kweli or Dead Prez.
Those examples are weak, but yea.

21. You have read one, part or all of the following: The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Fast Food Nation, Stupid White Men, or anything by bell hooks.
Check.

22. You’re so underground, you’re f****** magma.
Haha. Hell yes. I'm giving myself a point.

23. As you chain smoke, you intellectualize how nicotine is the tool of THE MAN.
Idiots like this keep the movement down. No point, and proud of it.

24. Every time you watch TV or movies, your Asian-dar kicks in. (“Look! Asian woman’s arm in the back! WHAT WHAT!”)
LOL. I love China Town episodes of any TV show. "Hey! That's the guy who played Bruce's dad in Dragon!" Every working Asian actor gets to come out and play.

25. You mad dog Asian women with White boyfriends (minus 1 if you've ever had a White boyfriend; minus another 1 if you actually admit you had a White boyfriend, but you swear it was when you were really young and before you became down).
I'm a hater though.

26. You hate on AZN Asians as much as White people, if not more.
Haha! Yes. I was talking to Kev about this.

27. You hate on Asian fraternities or sororities, but used to go those parties before you were down (minus one if you ever pledged an Asian sorority, minus two if you were a Little Sis).
Didn't know they existed, but if I did, yes.

If you scored 21 or more:
Congratulations, Poster Child de La Revolución. You’re so down, you’re abajo. After finishing your manifesto and reaping vegetables in your biosphere, we’ll see you at ECAASU 2005, fool. Paz.
11- 20:
Poseur. What’s up, poser? Put down that copy of Audrey and read Asian Americans: The Movement and the Moment already. Practice raising your fist and looking hard in the mirror when no one's looking.

0 – 10:
You’re a tool of THE MAN. Proceed immediately to San Francisco and get a picket sign already.

Apparently I'm a poseur. But really, I'm just so fukkin down that I'm above shit like this. Wearing t-shirts. Fight the power, buddy.



φзαςє.
(whoa, another point for that one.)

6.21.2004

Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner. Nobody.

It's a strange thing to see your parents and their friends get excited and start dancing to a song whose chorus goes "I wanna have sex, on the beach!" I now know where my parents spend their Tuesday nights: in Havana, Square 1 Adult center, dirty dancing.



It's the first family function I've attended where only the adults dance, and it's the kids who sit bewildered at their tables, confused by the music, wondering what kind of darker debauchery the dance floor signifies. I saw my father dance with other women, saw a strange white man proposition my nervous mother for a spot on her dance card, and saw my tita kick her leg in the air like she was punting a salsa flavored football.

Eventually, us kids had to get the hell out of there. I filmed most of the events, and I must say, watching ballroom dancing through my camera's mirror effect is quite amusing.

While this whole time I thought the re-wedding was purely a vanity affair, it turns out my Tita Norm and Tito Al's nuptial sequel is actually much more meaningfull. This is their first wedding under God. While they have been married under civil law for 30 years, 2004 marked their first year under the holy sacrament of marriage as recognized by the Catholic Church.

It would have been a nice thing to film, if the priest hadn't made it clear that I'd burn in Hell if I didn't turn off my camcorder.

And speaking of Hell, this marked the first occasion that I declined communion in front of my parents. It was awkward to be sure, but my Tita Eva was nice enough to kiss me on the forehead as she passed by on her way to receive the host. Kisses from saintly old women are always reassuring.

Seeing the cousins was cool, especially Jay. Morgan met the family for the first time. I felt bad for him, but glad for Chris that some of the significant-other-heat was alleviated off of her.

A nice night, but the very next day Tita Norm went back to her old ways and started pissing me off. Ahhh, family.

Can't live with them, can't blah blah blah.

φзαςє.

6.18.2004

Roar, Lion City

The week has been weird and bad tempered. A lot of fighting with the girlfriend, annoying angry customers at work, conversations with idiots, and losing my cool in front of my parents. Screamed so much I went to work twice in a row with a voice hoarser than Seabiscuit. And that's gotdamn horse, in case you didn't know. Which I'm sure you did.

This post is off to a rough start.

Hulk, Smash, Buy Biore Pore Strips


Sleep-deprivation is exacerbating my anger. I just need some rest. Closed the store on Thursday and was supposed to come in early the next morning, so of course sleep was of the utmost importance. Unfortunately, my parents started vaccuming the house at 6 in the morning, so I threw a fit. Screaming, swearing, throwing things. Who the fuck starts vaccuming at 6 in the morning? Of course, I wasn't thinking straight enough to realize that if they had to be vaccuming at this time, than it must be legit (the dog made a big smelly mess). Instead, I made a big ass of myself.

Thinking straight is something I've been having trouble with. I started freaking today because I didn't know when I would get the time to finish up my credit sequence for Found between today and tomorrow, what with Father's Day dinner tonight and Wedding early tomorrow. And so I freaked for a good couple of hours until I realized I didn't have to pass the tape on to Jay at the wedding, I could just mail it to him.

Went to Lion City with the parents and Morgan and Marisa. The crazy waitress was there again, whom I'm beginning to really like. I just realized she's always there, which means she waits tables, busses them, handles the cash register, all day, everyday, more or less by herself. Her craziness and curt sense of humor is no longer bothersome, but given the workload she accomplishes, admirable. I felt bad that my mom kept making fun of her and staring at her. The waitress picked up on it to and started to make funny comments to mom like "Huh? Wha? You miss me??", or "You keep staring at me huh! Like Dis! :| "

And then my mom asked the old man who works there if she was his daughter. My mom. So freakin nosy.

M & M bought dad a digital camera. I'm jealous. My dad gets all the cool gadgets.

Tomorrow my Tito and Tita throw themselves a Wedding II: The Sequel. Just like part one, but with better dancing. My mom muses that this wedding is just an excuse for them to show off their ballroom skills. I assumed this was my mom just being her presumptuous self, but then I looked at the program and realized it does resemble a dance card more than a wedding ceremony. No wonder they were so adamant that I film the whole thing.

φзαςє.

6.17.2004

Stupid Computer Viruses

I don't get hackers. Go do something productive, like hacking into multinational corporations, shutting down stock markets, or hell, robbing electronic banks. I don't see how they get their rocks off messing with individual innocent PCs. I'm probably missing something in my analysis, something crucial about the way viruses work, but still, eff the hackers. Our comp has caught way too many viruses over the past two years, like it's got AIDS or something.

Went to the orthodontist today, finally, and got some X-rays done. The wisdom teeth mos def have to be extracted. Two are coming in sideways, one is coming in fine but will never fully break the gum line, and the other one, amazingly, is coming in backwards. Backwards. The fucker somersaulted within my gums and is now backing up into my mouth like it's parking. No wonder that bitch was killing me a few months ago.

I was sitting in the waiting room reading an article about the history between the American presidency and religion (fascinating), when I noticed the lady across from where I was sitting was staring me down. I had to keep looking up from my mag to stare back at her. I don't know what her problem was. She looked kinda white-trashy. Maybe she was surprised that I could read. Maybe she didn't like the fact that I was reading an article about Bush and tittering to myself, and that my beard somewhat resembles that of a Muslim's. Or maybe, just maybe, she wanted to have wild inter-racial sex with me.



I then bussed my way down to KATA for a mid-day Muay Thai lesson. The class was fuller than I expected for a day class. What's up with that Alex chick? Does she live there or something? Andrew C. from the old MAFA days showed up to train today. We did some sparring after, and it was pretty much a repeat from our sessions four years ago, except with a lot more panting. We fight the same, but we aren't in the same shape.

Kru DJ gave me a lift home, and it was cool talking to him about politics and cool documentaries that we've seen. Watch out for kickboxers. They're always smarter than you think they are.

The PC seems to be healthy again, but my stomach is hurting me.

φзαςє.

6.15.2004

Running and Rock Music, Revisited

I did three classes yesterday. 3 and a half hours of intense martial arts craziness. It's the next morning and I'm still tired, though I'm not (yet?) sore, so I'm counting my blessings. I have to work an eight hour shift today, and today is apparently the dreaded Audit Day, where John gets to act like a big asshole who farts on anyone who actually gets nervous around him...bah. John Standard is a big gaping asshole, and he can go fuck himself with his own iron fist. I'll be glad once Jane gets back, even though I'm more scared of her than I am of him.

I actually had a productive couple of days, despite my little freak out of last week past. I updated my reviews site with a piece on Super Size Me. Aside from that, I also saw Saved!, which was surprisingly bland, and The Prisoner of Azkaban, which was surprisingly dope. I hated the first two Potters, but this one gets my endorsement. Tracy hated it though, but whatever, she's such a hater (of people, things, places, everything.

I hate "fans" of anything who hate on good movies because "they're not like the book/comic". People try and prove what a fan they are, what an expert they are. They don't understand the nature of adaptation, that what makes a good book/movie would not necessarily make a good film. Like me, I'm a straight up X-Geek, ever since I was kid, but I hated people who hated on the films because "Wolverine is supposed to know Sabretooth/Lady Deathstrike", or other such continuity griping. You can't squeeze 50 years of continuity into a 2 hour movie, you fucks. Also, some things just don't work on screen. They are two different mediums, people. I don't sound very intelligent right now, but whatever.

Also, went jogging/sprinting with Mike and Priscilla last Friday, which I hope we actually get around to doing once a week. Finished Buddha and American Gods, finally.

Reading a lot makes me want to write, but it also renders me incapable of doing so. Reading takes up a lot of time, consumes you, smothers out your ability to come up with your stories. It creates a passion in you, but also negates it by giving you more things to read, things you think you could never live up to yourself.

I need to get in touch with Kev before he leaves...talk movies and shit, prolly complain about White people, etc. etc. Kev's my only fellow Angry Asian Man, so it's cool having that outlet.

I am currently listening to an old Hole CD, and remembering that I used to actually like rock music.

Long Live Booster Juice. I love that place.

φзαςє.

6.09.2004

da ruffest

RIP Ronald Reagan. The man did some great things, the man did some things that I believe were implorable. [It is at this point that I realize I've made up a word. I will let it stand, however, because it seems to work for my purposes. Fuck the haters.] All in all though, the man knew how to give a great speech. As a devout leftist, I must say, he was one great Republican. One who defended and fought for the right-wing with passion, fervor, and above all intelligence. He was the Republican JFK. Reagonomics fucked the country up or saved it. You could argue all day.

I had a good cry today and I'm not sure why. I also laughed alot, and that felt great. Joanne sang a song and played the guitar a bit. She got really into it, eyes closed, voice rising louder and louder. Once again I wished I could sing. Here was the one person I knew who -- at one time -- seemed more depressed than I (keeping in mind, I don't know a lot of depressives...I'm pretty sure that most out there are worse than I am) totally content, happy, and healthy looking.

Tomorrow I will do something. Anything.

Smoking up last weekend with Mark and Zorya was fun. The girlfriend is back, and we've enjoyed lazing around the houses. Martial arts is brutal with the humidity. My ring rust is thorough and deep. I can't stop blinking or flinching. All is good with Suzanne, she seems to have had gained some nice "life experience" in Cuba. She got me a dope Che Gueverra pen holder. Viva La Revolution, and its pens as well.

Watching -- Key: The Metal Idol, Samurai Jack Season I DVD
Listening To -- The Best of Del the Funkee Homosapien, J-Live: "The Best Part", Camile Velasco: "Desperado"
Reading: Buddha, Osamu Tezuka

My brother sent me a cool book on Japanese youth culture. That's the next read. He also sent me some kickass TCM teas; one for my stomach problems, one for drunkeness/hangovers, and some loose-leaf stuff for my liver. The loose-leaf looks like bags of illegal drugs.

Chris has some guy at KATA crushing on her. On Friendster, he calls himself "da ruffest". I stabbed him about 20 times with a rubber knife, and put him in a key-lock.

φзαςє.

6.05.2004

"I looooove Van Helsing"

"...it wasn't unusual for Cheng to take 20 minutes to pick out a pair of socks each morning. She had trouble controlling her emotions, even bursting into tears when she heard a sad song..." says the article on depression.

Not that having mental breakdowns caused by powerpop ballads is exactly a good thing, but I sense an underlying message here. That emotions are bad, that sadness is bad. That letting yourself be affected by something sad is a sign of social dysfunction.

I know that we are living in an age of irony. I willingly and playfully participate in it. But it gets tiresome when everyone around me stays guarded behind their sardonic shields, bouncing their disaffection back and forth like some hipster game of ping pong. (Or for the hipsters out there, I guess it would be just Pong.)

I'm as sarcastic and removed as the next guy, but damn if I don't get teary eyed when Lauryn hits that breakdown at the end of Ex Factor. Memento, to me, is not just some trippy ass movie that goes backwards. It's a sad, sad love story. Punch Drunk Love almost made me cry. It wasn't just "cool".

It's getting to the point where I almost feel guilty for relating to works of art, or letting them affect me in any way more than "yea, cool." It amazes me that someone like Marcus could hear a song like Love Song, with the way Jean's melancholy words and monotone delivery coldly lay atop the wrenching, singing soul sample, and merely comment on the beat. I was chillin with Chris one day and this song came on my playlist, and I lost myself. My mood bruised blue, and she had a difficult time understanding how just one song could do that to me.

Yes, I do suffer from depression. But no, I do not think my reaction to certain songs or movies or what have you is an extension of my condition. And frankly, I resent the fact that it is looked upon that way.

I was talking to Mark one day about his art and my writing. He was describing his new formal approach to art, concentrating solely on aesthetics. "Who gives a fuck about what you feel about something?" he asked. He had just given up painting and taken up robotics and soundscaping. I couldn't help but think back to some of the paintings of his I had seen. Incredible, sad, beautiful art. He gave so much to those paintings, and later disregarded them as something useless, angsty and juvenile.

And I couldn't help but feel stupid in the face of his cold intellectualism. Here I was, learning to open up and put more of myself into my film work. Here I was listening to Fiona Apple, watching Before Sunrise, hearing the anger and fury within the Bomb Squad's work with Public Enemy, and letting it get inside of me.

He loves Van Helsing, he says. And lately, even though I know people are technically just joking, I don't know how to respond to such comments.

Which is fine, people can like what they want. I'm not hating on anyone. But I, in return, reserve the right to get sad, to be inspired, to personally connect with any work, any artist that dares to reach out and feel.

φзαςє.

6.02.2004

More Than Meets The Eye

So I got a long-ass e-mail from Marcus containing the line "a protest vote is a vote for the Conservatives". Does the NDP really not figure into anyone's picture of the election? I guess not, but whatever...

I can understand why people would want to oust the Liberals. I do not, however, understand why people would think of the Conservatives as a viable second-choice.

It seems that ever since the Alliance and the PCs joined together, Megazord style, they've been getting their signals and coding wrong, causing Megazord to flip flop and dance back and forth, up and down. One mecha robot, five pilots. Shit like that only works in Saban action sit-coms. At once seeming all fuzzy and moderate (progressively conservative), and full of fangs and venom the next (All Hail the Alliance!), it's clear that the decepti-conservatives haven't had the time to clearly map out their party policy. Red Ranger or Green Ranger, what's it gonna be guys? (It's a wonder of shoddy screenwriting that they were able to get along at all in the first place.)

Which means that if they do win the election, they will spend more time bickering with each other than actually making moves. A majority Conservative government (far-fetched though it may be) would nonetheless work as an Alliance/PC minority.



The Decepti-Cons want to cut taxes, but at the same time greatly increase military spending. Where this money will come from if we are cutting taxes, I don't know. I guess that means we'll be shutting down social programs, squeezing money from those poor saps who need it the most. But hey, who needs valuable social programs when we got more guns n shit?

Speaking of guns, the big news yesterday was that Steven Harper, if elected, will abolish the gun registry. The money saved will then be funneled into hiring more cops n shit. See, apparently the problem with all the recent gun shootings we've had in TO is not that there are too many guns on the street, it's that we don't have enough cops out there to go out and kill these motherfuckers. (Let's not get into the issue of TO's police force possibly being as corrupt as the street gangs. But hey -- that doesn't mean anything's wrong with our system. It just means we need more cops n guns n shit.)

Throw em in jail (if they ain't dead yet), and throw away the key. Harper also wants to toughen up crime sentencing. He says he has spent the past few days talking to crime victims and relatives of crime victims, and that he now hates felons and wants them to rot in jail. Or something to that effect.

I really wish people like this would go and visit a jailhouse. Maybe they would see that the majority of people locked up are not serial rapists, mass murderers, or millionaire corporate theifs. A lot of them sold some weed on the side. Some of them beat someone up after they fucked their girlfriend. Some of them killed their husbands or fathers after years of abuse. Some are prostitutes. Some couldn't make rent and robbed a convenience store, but shit went wrong, they panicked, and ended up shooting. The list goes on.

The majority of people in jail never made it to the front page headlines. Nothing sensational.

The point is, these people are people. Just as the victims are people. I'm not some bleeding-heart bitchass "liberal" who's against the rights of the victims...but still. Harper says "if you do the crime, you do the time", without any regard for whether or not the time actually fits the crime. Hell, he wants to increase the time. Time to him means time immemorial.

As for the gun registry, yea, it costs a lot of money. Maybe the Liberals didn't the best job of making it cost effective. Maybe that's something you should fix, not abolish. The problem is the current gun registry, not the idea of a gun registry.

I'm sure the cops appreciate being able to tell whether a house has guns in it when they make a domestic disturbance call. I'm sure it's useful. Gun Control is something we've been fighting for for years now...I don't see why it should be abandonned by the wayside.

Fix problems, Harper. Don't just throw them away in the cellar and forget about them.

Autobots, roll out.

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