The dust settles, and the machine moves again.

I found myself in the company of two of the strongest people in the world this past Friday evening. The three of us were spanning time in their cozy east-end apartment, flipping channels on the television, when we discovered that, in precisely one hour's time, the transit workers were to walk off the job, having rejected the collective bargaining agreement offered by their employers at the Toronto Transit Commission. We thought we were hallucinating, so we flipped through the other "news" telecasts to be sure: lo and behold, they were saying the same thing. We needed a few minutes to properly grasp this information after being blindsided by its left hook; at which time, realizing that the next bus home wasn't due to arrive for nearly a half hour, leaving just over thirty minutes to complete a forty-five-to-an-hour trip, I discovered myself in a bit of a spot (though not nearly as unfortunate as those poor souls who hadn't any idea they would be stranded in whatever part of town they were gainfully employed). Luckily, my friends were kind enough to put me up for the night, for which I am forever grateful.

The following morning, we found ourselves glued to the television set again, watching a live detail of last night's event, including feedback from those who found themselves without a ride home - as he walked across the street to fetch a cup of coffee, my friend noticed a gentleman, briefcase in tow, standing at the bus stop until a lady approached and broke the news to him, demonstrating what happened to you if you happened to go to bed before eleven o'clock the previous evening. There was also a phone-in portion of the program: one woman, despite expressing shock and dismay, tried to sympathize with the striking workers; the next caller, a man, sounded visibly upset, and made no effort to conceal or dilute his contempt for the workers; the last caller we saw, another man, brought to light the various elements at play in the situation, not wishing to purvey the caustic response the hostess seemed interested in eliciting.

A week earlier, the Union boss provided forty-eight hours notice of a strike, should no agreement be reached. Fortunately, or so it seemed at the time, a deal was reached, pending ratification from the Union members, thus (temporarily) averting the deactivation of our city's transit system. This time around, the public wasn't so lucky, as only an hour's notice was given; the reason being, according to said Union boss, was that, during the weekend prior, transit workers were systematically harrassed and threatened (in some cases, spat upon), and he would not again compromise the safety of his workers. Ironically, any hostility he sought to avoid by pulling his workers off the job so suddenly would likely have hit them ten-fold upon their return to work for that very reason, though calm did prevail (the head corporate lackey of our fair Province encouraged commuters to be kind to the returning workers).

Sunday afternoon, after an "emergency" session was called in Parliament, it was agreed that the employees be ordered back to work immediately. Within a few hours, the system had returned to normal, meaning the city could do the same. Personally, I didn't know what to think: sure, I depend on the TTC to get around the city, and was relieved to be able to do so again; but also, I fully believe in the right of workers to stand up for themselves - especially when facing the growing trend of finding their jobs outsourced to money-making machines (I wonder if my former employer is reading) - a right that, in my eyes, was discarded when legislated back to work. That being said, I'm also aware of the dastardly deeds of which Union representatives are capable, as they seem less about acting as a voice for the commoner than they are grabbing as much as they can in a society promoting such behaviour.

I was thinking to myself how effective these isolated job actions can possibly be: a strike by one sector of the work force seems to adversely affect the livelihood of the rest, thus eliciting vitriolic attitudes towards the former, as if the result of some clever divide-and-conquer technique, pitting worker against worker. Perhaps a work stoppage by this union or that is not the answer, but rather a strike by all of them at once, because, let's face it, we're all in this together: whether an employee for the public transit authority, the sanitation department, the local general store, or one of the many multinational corporations, we are slaves all the same. Without that awareness, any small-scale strike will be futile, thus the time has come for something much larger, reaching every single person finding her/himself struggling to keep head above water.

The corporate media will have themselves a ball hailing the defeat of the transit workers. Unfortunately, for them, they won't be hailing the victory of the people, for their workers will not be reporting it in their newspapers or on their television networks, as they will be in the streets with the rest of their sisters and brothers.

Silence.

Scared of the Spotlight

Has everyone had enough yet?

Our Fearless Leader and his battalion of anti-corruption crusaders are in it again, this time over allegations that they overspent on their election campaign by one million dollars. Earlier this year, allegations surfaced claiming the current ruling party, in 2005, offered a bribe to the late Chuck Cadman to secure what would be the deciding vote on the fate of the then Liberal government. Last year (I forget exactly when), we learned almost half of all Defense contracts were awarded without bid, which should not have surprised any of us, given our then Minister of National Defense, the "Right Honourable" Gordon O'Connor, earned his living lobbying the government on behalf of the industry.

Lately, I've distanced myself from the "news", as the same old story keeps on playing, over and over and over; this time, I felt the need to make mention of this story because this particular leader, on his campaign platform, vowed to smash corruption. I suppose corruption is bad only when committed by members of political parties other than his own. I can see why he is so loath to the spotlight: I wouldn't want my underhandedness exposed, either.

Fortunately, for our glorious White Knight, his best friends is the short attention span of the collective conscious. He used his millions to hammer the message home - leaving no time for us to think - to secure his rule, yet when his is the hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar, we end up forgetting all about it, for a variety of reasons (one being a seemingly non-existent opposition in Parilament, but what can we expect from a party guilty of the same deeds? It's as if one needs the other to exist, but this is a topic for another discussion.)

We know the government is, has been, and will forever be corrupt; sadly, we keep electing them. Every few years, we are seduced by the same rhetoric, and bound by the perceived lack of options come election day; should we decide against casting a ballot for lack of a better choice, it is as if we do not exist. Those of us who do make that pilgrimage to the local polling station naïvely believe the elected representatives to be in charge of this operation, thereby neglecting the corporate capital flowing into their coffers in exchange for a favourable agenda.

We are led to believe there is nothing we can do about corruption. So long as we harbour such a belief, we are right. This is what is called a self-fulfilling prophecy: so long as we, the people, allow this sort of shit to happen, it will happen, and it will happen.

We elected a government on the premise of accountability, and now it, too, has proven itself unfit to carry such a banner. We are forever let down by the Red and Blue parties (or, if you feel so inclined, the Red-and-Blue party), and cannot hope for a third to set things right, as the powers-that-be will not permit them to govern. So what is left for us to do?

The wealth may lie in the hands of the few, but the machinery causing its flux lies in ours. These hands of ours can be used to feed each other, rather than the machinery. These hands of ours can bring the machinery to a halt. It is time these hands of ours started doing as they were meant to do, rather than as they are told. This is already beginning, albeit on a small scale; I have faith it will grow, much like a properly nurtured plant or animal, but it will only grow if it is nurtured, meaning it is time we nurture each other: physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. It is time we open our eyes to the truth, for we cannot hide from it, nor can we conceal it. It is time to recognize the open sores we have allowed to fester, so that they may heal. It is time for we, the people, to stand together, as people, as living creatures of this beautiful planet of ours.

Most of all, it is time for the elite to liberate themselves from the power that enslaves them: your institution may appear mighty, but its infrastructure is cracking, and soon, it will collapse.

Photoblogging - Part IV

Blood on My Hands

The "Truth"

From truthism.com, the self-professed purveyors of what actually is:

Women

Women are ultra-impressionable beings, and therefore are easily controlled by aliens and the elite. The main purpose of women on Earth (that is, what aliens have programmed them to do) is to enslave men via relationships. Women are obsessed with relationships and love (due to alien programming), and don't care about anything else in life. They would have men believe that being in a relationship is one of the most important things in existence, not realizing that men couldn't care less about being in a relationship--and rightfully so. Furthermore, women force men to waste their precious time and resources on them. This demonic charade (i.e., relationships) has gone on for far too long and obviously has no end in sight. Thus, you can blame women for the downfall and utter hopelessness of humanity. [bold mine]

Make no mistake: It is indeed tragic that men cannot satisfy their sexual needs without also getting trapped in a relationship at the same time (otherwise, they will be accused of rape, since non-relationship consensual sex does not exist on Earth, due to the aforementioned programming of women). Demonic enslavement traps such as this are the standard modus operandi of the Reptilians and Darkness. Now, just imagine if you had to buy an entire pizza restaurant just to order a pizza; an evil absurdity indeed.

Another thing that makes women insufferable is the fact that they are, essentially, babies. That is, they possess the emotional maturity of a 4-year-old boy. Women cry, throw fits, and need men to take care of them. Um, an adult shouldn't need someone else to take care of them.

All in all, women promote the enslavement, rather than the liberation, of humanity. It's bad enough that aliens and the elite already control us. Now, throw women into the equation, and you have absolute misery. They are like sheep dogs helping out a shepherd (hence the term "bitch," in case you didn't know).

And to think, women are actually proud of their controlling ways. What a disgrace.

...and just when I was beginning to believe their fantastic tale of Reptilians...

As the sun rises, marking the dawn of a new day, I find myself standing at the end of a long pier, gazing upon the rolling tide, wondering...

Today, I commemorate my departure from the friendly confines of Mother's womb, and my first solo breath. Though I cannot recall any details, I'm positive it was quite an overwhelming experience. What it must have been like to have your tiny, comfortable realm shattered in a matter of moments, only to face a tumultuous next few hours before being left to do it on your own. Frightening, isn't it? How many times will we repeat this exercise in our lives?

I think back and realize - despite the psychological torment I endured at the hands of my peers and, most of all, myself - how lucky I am to have been afforded the luxury of stable footing. Some days, this leads me to ask "Why me? Why was I dropped on this side of the world, in the pillowy lap of luxury, while so many of us struggle to eat a half-decent meal, let alone land a job?" I suppose there isn't much I can do about the past. I've always been told to appreciate what I have because so many have it so much worse; every time, I scratch my head upon hearing this remark, for I now interpret it as an exercise in defeat: Why try to change what is? Be happy with where you are.

How many of us have suddenly had our world shattered, only to have to gather the pieces afterward and, somehow, continue living? How many of us have lost jobs, or homes, or loved ones, or all of the above and more? How many of us have lived through natural disasters, or economic strife, or war? We are always that newborn babe, happily adrift for so long in our liquid-filled sac, only to find it disappear, leaving us cold and naked and bewildered. Fortunately, in times like these, we can count on those around us to catch us as we fall and hold us as we learn to stand on our own two feet for the first time. Unfortunately, I fear our helping hands are disappearing.

It is utterly astonishing to bear witness to the sort of technological advancements we possess today; what's more astonishing, and simultaneously disheartening, are the barriers they are helping to build between us. Certainly, the advent of the magical realm of the Internet has successfully brought together people who would not, nor could not, associate with one another - it has indeed helped yours truly open the lines of communication with others, given his social ineptitude - but when I see countless others around me tune into their high-definition television sets and mobile telephones and digital music players and out of the world around them, a shadow crosses my heart. One of the sights of which I see less and less is the street hockey game: as a boy, my friends and I would spend hours upon hours in front of our house playing hockey with a tennis ball - at times, one might see several games being played on a single stretch of road! - nowadays, I suppose the video games and online social networks are just too alluring. I fear the same is the case with the remainder of the generation raised on and by technology. I used to be the same way but a few years ago; now, whenever the sun's rays peer through my window into my room, I yearn for the outdoors (perhaps later today, for I must resume studying for my exam).

How does this relate to helping one another? Easy: the more we isolate ourselves, the less we identify with each other, the less we care about their well-being. Sure, we can't possibly know everyone personally, but the least we can do is pay attention to them, acknowledge their existence, when our paths cross. We can hem and haw all we want about the transgressions of the police officer or the boss or the salesperson or the motorist who cut us off during the afternoon drive home, but we often fail to realize these are people, too, and for every transgression unto us, we have wrought unto others as well, and so long as we continue to attack one another, to push everyone away from us, this shit will continue. We can't ignore the thief or the vagabond or the junky forever.

With all the technological wonders I've witnessed during my twenty-eight years in this world, there is one thing they cannot do: they cannot be there for us when we are in the most dire of need, for without the people operating these machines, without the people tending to them, without the people tending to each other, they are no more than inert matter.

Note: This has to be among the least coherent pieces I've posted, though, come to think of it, I find it fitting to have written in such a manner on the day I commemorate my birth, for isn't that what it means to live? Do we coast along on a single, smooth stream, or are we tossed this way and that, forever seeking a branch or an outstretched arm to grasp?

The Line Dividing Good and Evil

I have posted the following on a public forum, and am hopeful it will generate responses. As they come, I will repost some of them in the comments section - anonymously, of course. It's a bit crude for my liking, but I didn't want to spend all night sitting here, trying to formulate the perfect piece of prose. - G.

"If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being... During the life of any heart this line keeps changing place; sometimes, it is squeezed one way by exuberant evil and sometimes it shifts to allow enough space for good to flourish. One and the same human being is, at various ages, under various circumstances, a totally different human being. At times he is close to being a devil, at times to sainthood. But his name doesn't change, and to that name we ascribe the whole lot, good and evil." - Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago

I have seen God and the Devil in just about every person here, myself included. Perhaps there are certain persons here you may perceive as knowledgeable, or ignorant, or saintly, or just plain scum. I am inclined to believe that, deep down, despite the facades we project, we are all saints, each one of us. There are some of us who hope to change the status quo and thus bring an end to the suffering of the many at the hands of the few, and there are some of us who celebrate the status quo because there is nothing wrong with it. Oftentimes, we lash out at one another in an effort to make ourselves appear the wiser.

I believe even the most self-absorbed, jingoistic individual can one day see the light, and not one of us should rest until we see this day. We are more than Christians, Jews or Muslims; Canadians, Americans, Arabs or Chinese; old and young; women and men: we are all in this together, and it's high time we started behaving as such. The barriers we build between one another only seek to serve the interests of those who currently rule over us. They want to see us take sides and attack one another. They want to see us live in fear of one another, sister against sister, brother against brother, and will go to great lengths to perpetuate this. Before directing our anger towards these powers, we must realize they, too, are slaves; slaves to the power they wield, living each day fearing who might snatch it from their hands.

I apologize if I sound grandiose - this isn't meant as a sermon from atop my soapbox. I write this because, every time I peruse this forum, I see the same shit over and over: lines being drawn in the sand, insults hurled to and fro, and so on. I believe we are all better than this. Sure, we will have our differences - after all, we each view the world differently, and, as such, will come into conflict now and then - but our attempts to defeat our opponents do nothing to resolve these differences; they merely demonstrate which one of us is more capable of brutality. What do these fights of ours do, except spawn more fighting? What has war done for us, except beget more war?

I await any and all flaming. Feel free to attack my position, even my person, though any attempt at the latter will only serve to reinforce the former.

Your thoughts?

An Excursion Down the Memory Hole

For a man with no job and not much to do but study for an exam, today was certainly an eventful day. After my morning ritual of yoga, breathing and meditation, I activated the computer and accessed the state-run news agency to discover something quite startling (which, oddly enough, has since been quashed): it seems there are over 1,700 "boil water" advisories in Canada that, to this day, remain outstanding. I could not believe my eyes! Is this true? In Canada - the true north, strong and free - where the rights of every human being are held in high regard, where water exists in abundance, there exist so many cases of contaminated drinking water not worthy of anyone's attention? In a year in which the human rights record of China has been thrust into the spotlight in advance of the summer Olympiad, what about the violation of the rights of those living in "freedom"? How can one of the wealthiest nations in the world, the supposed beacon of freedom and opportunity for many, allow so many to live with contaminated drinking water? Should I be at all surprised that most, if not all, of these advisories were issued to First Nations communities?

What a way to start a day. Well, there isn't much I can do about it, but shrug my shoulders and click the magic "x" in the corner of my screen and WHOOSH! Down the memory hole it goes! Sucks to be them, I suppose.

I resumed my web surfing, hoping to find something to keep my attention for a little while before diving into my books and notes, and, suffice to say, I did just that: I came across video footage of a couple in the United States describing the horror they experienced - terror, even? - bearing witness, via amateur video, of the savage beating of their teenage daughter at the hands of some of her schoolmates. My heart wrenched as they described the disfigurement they found upon seeing her in the hospital for the first time, and the pleas for her life they heard her cry as her counterparts collectively pummeled her, and the barrage of taunts she endured on the Internet in advance of this incident, and their outrage and utter bewilderment over how something like this was allowed to happen. Being the pinko that I am, I couldn't help but think to myself, "I wonder how they feel about war..."

Wow. I don't know if I can handle much more. Down the memory hole with you, too. Click. Over.

So yes, I have an exam on Thursday. After spending the better part of the morning studying, I gazed out my bedroom window and thought to myself, "What a beautiful, sunny day outside, and here I sit, stuck with these books. Why let this day go to waste? My exam isn't until Thursday. I think I'll take a walk!" And so, I threw on my shades and my shoes, grabbed my wallet and keys, and set forth on foot towards my parents' house. I figured I'd use this opportunity to at least see the family dog, whom I grew to love very much while under my parents' roof. As I approached the turn off the main road leading to my destination, I noticed the flashing lights of police cars ahead, as well as the traffic being diverted. I walked closer to see what was happening, and I noticed several squad cars, along with two ambulances (that I noticed, anyway) and a small car sitting on the lawn in front of an apartment building, its front having been acquainted with a tree, its driver's side door(s) wide open. Perhaps the conclusion of a police chase? I couldn't tell, from what I saw. Upon my arrival, I did bear witness to a heated argument between a fellow of African descent and whom I perceived to be a Middle Eastern shop owner from the nearby plaza. From what I was able to gather, it seemed to me the former was up in arms over the latter's generalization of "his kind", for I could hear him shouting something along the lines of "You think I walk around waving a gun at people?"

The vultures were circling the scene, in their satellite trucks and helicopters, fully cognizant of the fresh kill, ready to pick clean the juiciest morsels from its bones. I'd soon learn their accounts of the afternoon's event, but for now, I figured it's high time I make my way towards my parents' house. Along the way, I encountered my younger brother, who, learning someone had been shot, had decided to migrate towards the scene (I believe he was to visit some friends as well). When I told him I found a car on the front lawn, he wondered if it belonged to anyone he knew at school. Later, through our trusted news outlets, I would learn that two young men who occupied the aforementioned vehicle were shot - one in the chest, the other in the leg - and a third occupant, a young lady, screamed in horror after the car came to rest that someone was going to kill her, thus prompting her to flag down a passer-by, who let her in the car and drove her to safety, so I'm told.

I did get to see the dog, and we had a grand old time. First, he leaped on me, then let me rub his belly for a while.

So, that was my day. What shall I say of these events I encountered? Three random occurrences of which I am soon to forget, that have no bearing on my life? Or that, somehow, these three events are all connected by a single bloody thread? That the people whose ancestry inhabited this land before our arrival are not worthy of potable water because money needs to be spent on war and policing so-called "criminals" who try to survive in a society in which they learn that their problems can easily be rectified by violent means? that one must physically dominate the opposition or else be crushed under its uncaring, unfeeling, monstrous juggernaut? that these wrongs can only be righted by teaching their adversaries some sort of lesson?

Say what you will about U2, but they said it succinctly: "How long must we sing this song?"

It seems, by and large, we've not been singing the appropriate songs. We're bound to hear cries (again) for the outlawing of handguns, and for strict surveillance of social networking websites, or for mandatory minimum sentences for these perpetrators. Will any of these work? Has the outlawing of murder, or rape, or theft, done anything to deter these acts? Will hauling someone off to the slammer alleviate violent crime when three are waiting to take his place?

Earlier this evening, my roommate was describing the fear she feels, especially after learning of a shooting so close to her own home, and why these people feel the need to operate with no regard for the innocent bystanders around them. I responded by asking what it might be like to live in a war zone, where combatants fire round after round at one another, and bystanders like you and me are nothing more than "collateral damage".

Is it possible to draw any positives from these events? Perhaps if we saw our society for what it was - rather than try to sweep its ills under the proverbial rug, where it is allowed to fester beyond our attention - we could seek a means by which to better it. Perhaps if we opened ourselves to the truth, we could identify the problem before trying to conjure a solution. Perhaps if we weren't so quick to pass judgment on these "others", we could reach out to them and guide them on the path to the divine. Despite everything, I still have faith that we can turn things around, but how do we expect to accomplish this if we remain ignorant of how we ended up in this mess?

This analogy must be growing trite by now, but I can't find any better words to describe our situation, so I am afraid I have to use it again:

The time is fast approaching when we will no longer be able to flush the mess away, down the pipe, never to be seen by our eyes again. The time is fast approaching when we will have no choice but to stare at that pile of shit and smell its foul stench for as long as we fail to do something about it.

Saturday Night Solitude

Realizing I'm too old for the excess of the Saturday evening social ritual, I sit here in silence with mixed feelings: yes, it's pretty lonely in this big, empty bungalow, but also refreshing to be afforded some quiet.

Some thoughts I had scratched into my notebook that I thought I would share:

1. I could tell you that I feel lost, that I do not belong in this world, but that would not be entirely true, for I belong in someone's world, and I can create a world around me in which I am not lost, a world with which I am one.

2. For those who believe God doesn't answer their prayers, let it be said that the answer was always present, but their constant asking for help from some external force prevented them from perceiving it. You see, God is all around us, even within us, so yes, it may be said that God wasn't listening, only because we weren't listening.

Sometimes, we try so hard, all of us, to be heard, we neglect to stop and listen.

Waist-deep in this shit: Quite the April fool indeed

For my few regular readers, I must forewarn you, I am about to return to familiar territory, so forgive me for seeming trite. I feel the need to write that which I am about to write because, in reference to criminal activity, it is obvious many people - particularly, certain media personalities - still fail to see the whole picture, meaning we continue to have our work cut out for us if we're going to end this madness.

Today, as is customary with each weekday morning, I found myself lying in bed overhearing the sounds emanating from the alarm clock radio in the adjacent bedroom, rife with the banter of three supposedly grown men who earn their keep trading shits and giggles on a prominent Toronto radio station. Today, the alpha male of the group decided to comment on a shooting that took place recently, one captured on security camera and subsequently posted on everyone's favourite video-sharing website that shall remain nameless for the time being (by now, I should not have to utter its name for you to know that to which I am referring). He did not hesitate to label the perpetrator, and other gun-toting assailants, as an "idiot" and a "coward", then proceeded to plead his case for a mandatory minimum sentence for being caught with a pistol in one's possession. At this point, I had to get out of bed and as far away from the noise as I could, for I could feel my blood beginning to boil.

I wonder if this individual is aware of the consequences of his utterances, of the impression he bestows upon his listeners who tune into his program every morning from Monday to Friday. I wonder if he realizes how little an effect invoking a mandatory minimum sentence has on criminal activity, that one is likely to be caught with a handgun only after firing it at someone. I wonder if he notices the connection between his name-calling and one's perceived need to rectify a situation by unloading his clip on someone, that, in our society, we are encouraged to solve conflicts by "othering" our counterparts, thus making it easier to not give a flying fuck about their emotional, mental or physical well-being. I wonder if he's ever pondered the correlation between the actions he condemns and the misogynistic material he finds amusing, such as an advertisement for a product he endorses in which a "sexy" female asks her male counterpart if he would like to try some of her cans, to which he responds by asking to "take two", amid cheers from his male boosters.

Perhaps I'm not being clear, so please allow me to do so: we live in a world, dominated by men who have used violence to secure all they desire, in which we are taught to habrour no regard whatsoever for one another, in which the gun is a source of income for far too many, including the wealthy men in suits who own and operate the facilities in which they are designed and made.

Having gone to such trouble to say all that from my perch on the discarded soapbox, I feel I must say I understand how someone would feel warm to the notion of "getting tough on crime". It is a big, scary world, and we want something done about our "undesirables" post-haste. Who has time to sit and understand the inner workings of the criminal mind? Better yet, who has time to assess the machinery of our habitat? We have jobs to work, bills to pay, kids to feed, people to appease; we can't be bothered to concern ourselves with all that - Heaven forbid we succumb to cognitive overload! - hence our burning desire to find the quickest solution to this problem that plagues us. We are all of us afraid, and thus prone to let reaction trump reason.

As I've said before, that shit pipe can handle only so much before it backs up into our living room, making us appear quite the April fool as we stand waist-high in the mess we thought we could simply flush away.