WestCoast101

Homer Simpson...

...according to Roberto Parada:

Homer Simpson

— April, 1999
"This was done for Esquire. The article was about how many animation families are more realistic than most of the "real families" on television sit-coms. I didn't think it would be possible to make him actually come to life."

(http://www.robertoparada.com/gallery1/homer.html)

RSS Feed Aggregator

I stopped using an XML feed aggregator for a little while, but now find I can’t live without it. I use SharpReader, but there are other good choices.

What is an RSS feed?

Some feeds I like:

/Nerd: Tod Maffin's CBC Radio Tech Column
description="Stay on top of the latest in consumer electronics, the Internet, and technology with Tod Maffin's weekly tech column, as heard across Canada on CBC Radio One."
xmlUrl="http://feeds.feedburner.com/cbcnerd"
htmlUrl="http://www.cbc.ca/nerd/"

BBC News | News Front Page | World Edition
description="Updated every minute of every day"
xmlUrl="http://newsrss.bbc.co.uk/rss/newsonline_world_edition/front_page/rss.xml" htmlUrl="http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/rss/-/2/hi/default.stm"

AP Top Headlines
xmlUrl="http://hosted.ap.org/lineups/TOPHEADS.rss?SITE=ALMON&SECTION=HOME"
htmlUrl="http://hosted.ap.org/"
   
Quirks and Quarks from CBC Radio
description="CBC Radio's Science Radio Program. Join host Bob McDonald each week to find out the latest in science, technology, medicine and the environment."
xmlUrl="http://www.cbc.ca/quirks/quirks.xml"
htmlUrl="http://www.cbc.ca/quirks"

Google Blog - Live
xmlUrl="http://www.google.com/googleblog/atom.xml"
htmlUrl="http://www.google.com/googleblog/"

ongoing
description="Ongoing fragmented essay by Tim Bray."
xmlUrl="http://www.tbray.org/ongoing/ongoing.rss"
htmlUrl="http://www.tbray.org/ongoing/"

Any other suggestions?

In line with "I am Rubber...

...you are Glue":

I was recently trying to express something similar regarding the inheritance of verbiage.

A friend was overwhelmed and saddened over a few comments that were made criticizing a point of view. The comments were instantly perceived as being offensive. Knowing the context, I asked if perhaps the comments might have had a defensive quality - if perhaps the perceived “shot” was not fired from a position of strength, but from one of weakness; fragility. A certain amount of empathy can be required to more completely and accurately understand a dialogue, its words, its “interpretation, intension, and actuality”. Empathetic interpretation is intrinsically challenging, even when interpreting the self.

Ramparts and bombs... could make a good board game.

The Star Spangled Banner

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say does that star spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?

O Canada!

O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!

From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

I am sure...

...that one of my favorite things about BC is this floral smell in air. I can smell it now. It's wafting in through my window. It starts in spring and can last till fall. Last year, it was interrupted by a summer smell of dust and fire.

I wonder...

...what it would be like to not see a computer for a year? What would change? Would I miss it, and if so, what about it would I miss? The music for sure; an iPod is not a computer.

Professionalisms and truths of being…

…seem to be conflicting in my life right now. Art of war? How do I speak my mind, feel whole, true, while playing games in business – buying and selling principle; self; soul? What do I do when I sense that I’ve breached a threshold, or am trying not to? When is it a “natural” process and when is it “forced”?  How organic could it, should it be?  Is that bitterness in my blood, what comes from "the game", a necessary evil, or a something that needs to be remedied? Is it simply my approach, my perspective, which is out of whack? It so often is. Is it the nature of the beast; parasitic? I remember being a better, fitter, happier, more productive business man - shrewd and focused on mandate and growth. I ran my show. I feel less inclined to succeed at that level – to play.

Radiohead [Fitter Happier]

Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries ,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at
(moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick,
that's driven into
frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at weakness),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
a pig
in a cage
on antibiotics.

Little Qualicum Falls, Vancouver Island

wow.

Google Maps : Little Qualicum Falls Provincial Park, Qualicum Beach, British Columbia, Canada

You know that feeling…

…when you know you’re supposed to do something but you don’t. Sometimes it’s something you can do anytime, and over time, so it sits in your head like that French fry you dropped between the seats in your car that you never got around too - that you know it’s getting older, and possibly smellier.

I called ICBC (Insurance Corporation of British Columbia) today about my accident, healthcare, license, etc… got me a 2PM appointment. Overall, I am a good 12 months late on this, so off I go. I am not looking forward to this and I don’t I know why. Something about “being BC” mixed with “being jay-crosser” mixed with “being broke” mixed with “being behind” mixed with “being a biker” - all mixed with a little “unknown being” to cherry my cake.

On vera…

"Better than the deed...

...better than the memory, is the moment of anticipation!"

                                          - Jacques (maitre des quilles)

STARS

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead... from Montreal.

I started writing…

…after the accident and have redeveloped a readership. I thusly feel some sort of “obligation” or “desire” to keep writing; to myself and “my readers”.

So what shall I write about?

The urge to buy a guitar is overwhelming. I have one, so la musique she flows, but it’s not mine, and I should soon buy my own. I even called the guitar store and told them I was showing up at 2PM; weak force measure. I have some friends in the music biz that will help me acquire a guitar at about half the price, but irregardless, have little coin. I walked in and played the usual suspects (Garrison and Takamine). Their song remained the same :)

Have you been “sure” of something, even on the 20 minute walk to the guitar store, but caught an echo of a nagging voice telling you not to. Have you ever wondered if the voice is “your gut”, a voice of reason, which you muffle by offering a series of questionable justifications, or if it is the voice of a second guess, this familiar yet uninvited mummer? That latter has left me wondering “what if” I had just followed my gut more than once before; a form of “soft regret” - a regret for an unknown alternative; for something that never happened and doesn’t exist except in speculation.

In my mind, every great relationship as two key elements: respect and trust. I wonder if I respect and trust myself enough to consider my relationship with myself a great one.

respect : high or special regard (www.m-w.com)

trust : a : assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something : b :dependence on something future or contingent (www.m-w.com)

I trusted myself at the guitar store and allowed that voice to be the one of reason I “surely needed to hear”. Fewer readers? Lol. XO.

I thought I was the only one...

...but no surprise that I am not: PARKOUR : CBC Nerve

I've been doing this for years. I picked it up while hiking and refined it in California last year while trying to get some breath into my body. I find it great for little exercise and to refine grace in moments of fear and the unknown. It’s also really fun.

Two weeks and...

...one day ago, the last two of which have left me feeling down… why? I am heading to Café Keno tonight with John and co. I tried to get a posse together, but all are due to be encountered; expected. So be it. Alors, je m’en vais avec Jean. Montréal me manque. ;)

Are timing and destiny related? Can you miss a bus you were destined to be on? Can you miss a destined opportunity? If you only have one chance at something, and you miss it, is that destiny or missing your destiny? Destine or predestine? Is it… destination? What of the path; the journey? Are they not destin-guishable?

I can feel my expectations...

...riddle me right now. Desire and want - unfulfilled. What am I supposed to do? How should I manage this apparent disappointment, this misguided expectation? Right now, I am trying to not resent; myself; her.

I will not attempt to understand what I am feeling; I will only feel. I will not try as justify the goings on. I will only be. I will not assume a grander purpose. I will accept what I have.

When will this stop being so fucking annoying?  ;)

I sometimes lose my mind in these shadows.

I met…

…this girl tonight; her 29ht bday; “youngen ;)”. I can smell her perfume on my hands.

Little pleasures…

I so often...

... question what i post, print, write... because of you, because i am concerned you won't understand. But now i write for me. If you don't understand... s'ok. i am... and i am freak... now we're off the hook ;)

reply: I am a passionate writer, but...

,,,don’t assume too much. I write when I need to. This is all new to me. I write to express how confused I am, but this is not how I feel; daily. I am secure and happy; happier than I’ve ever been. I cry everyday now, but each time I am happier. lucky lucky...

---

From: Talal Agha [mailto:agacan777@yahoo.ca]
Sent: Thursday, March 31, 2005 1:08 AM
To: Solman@Umbrela. Com
Subject: Love u more

I read yr web and I am crying, I feel guilty, I want to be with u, I want to hug u and kiss till I die.

I cannot continue I will come back when I am not so emotional.

Where is the magic?

Where is the magic?

Where has it gone?

I thought it was hiding,

But it’s been gone so long.

Is this true,

Obsessive and worked,

Labors of love,

Tilled in ash of last love.

Tilled in ash of last love,

Long last,

Longer the deeper,

Then bang like a wall.

Lavaliving,

Lavalost,

Match.ME,

Match me.

Match me to the heat and thump,

The grind. Grind it fine,

That line,

Between what is lust and lost.

Is it better to burn bright,

be blind by beauty,

or blind in feeble darkness of

expectation?

It is what it is.

Almost back to…

…100%, and only a week later! Lucky, lucky…

My mind is healing. My body is healing. The world looks much simpler than I remember. I was able to do a light yoga session yesterday. I still can’t lift my right arm over my head, but it gains ground everyday.

CBC radio; always thinking. Today’s question:

How are people, those whom are ill, dealing with a given choice (through drugs and procedures) to live either a shorter richer life, or to live a longer, less fulfilling one?

I have a phone again.

Anger...

...subsiding. lol.

I wrote that it was like breaking a glass…

…but it wasn’t. It wasn’t an accident. I’ve gone through it in my mind; over and over. This was meant to happen. This had to happen. People keep telling me to “listen” and “learn”. All I can think is to learn from this; to share it. But when I hear it from others, “learn” and “listen”, with that hint of headiness, I try to suppress the rage; to identify it; to listen to it.

Feelings of loneliness have subsided.

OH!

Right, lonely, beacuse I have no phone. Oversight. Ah. Normalizing. :)

Normalizing...

So the meeting went well…

…and I’m glad I kept my head together. I was ready to shoot myself in the foot. They gave enough to do for the next week or two. They are finally getting organized. I guess I don’t really dislike IT. The idea of working with technology is fine. Maybe I need to be more selective about my clients. Good. Need to relax a little. Drop the shoulders. Breath. Slow my heart. I’ll get there. Still shaking a little…

I need some affection. I need some help. Life is best enjoyed with others; in numbers. Lately, I’ve been as lonely as I am alone. That was not true before. Being alone and being lonely were not the same things.

I wonder what is coming and if I am ready. Either way… ;)

Lucky 1705.

Breaking glass.

I just broke a glass while fixing a tea. To those who have been asking “How did you get hit by a car?”… my friends, it’s a lot like breaking a glass. I hate breaking glass. So to those that wish question my acuity, attention, perception, depression, density, obsession, negligence… please.

I can’t make sense of anything.

Everything is still clear, but this is confusing. Clear means unlike before and the skills to interpret and handle this change are elusive. I spent a good part of yesterday realigning my skeletal structure using some yogic techniques that I have been learning. Cricks and cracks everywhere… freaky, but 80% of what concerned me is almost completely fixed up (I think). Some muscles and ligaments are either torn or stretched, so I am waiting for them to heal a little more before “looking” at those. Head is fine (aside from this new found respect I have for everything) and nothing new hurts. I was able to “unhook” a muscle that was laced over one of my shoulder blades or something. I felt it “slide back over”… fantastic. I am completely amazed with the psychological effect that this has had on me. I’ve been thinking about people and things from the dustiest most remote parts of my mind. People I haven’t thought about in years are returning to my mind. Some are or were much more important to me than I had originally understood. I’m still crying for no real reason. I just break down, and then it’s gone. This is fascinating (and often depressing). I miss yoga and my skates. I miss feeling whole, or least whatever ever part of whole I was enjoying before. I smoke again. GRRRR! Just a blip...

Going this “alone” has been less than ideal.

I have to go to the office today to renegotiate my contract. They told me Friday, just before the accident, that I won’t be getting biweekly checks anymore. They want to pay by deliverable. This is frustrating me. I do not feel strong enough to take on a higher level of stress and the obvious job hunt. I have been looking for something else to do. IT can kiss my ass. Software that crunches numbers so that some gluttonous "professionals" and make more money can kiss my ass. Captialist consumerism can kiss my ass. Ownership can kiss my ass. I felt like this before the accident, but maybe it was the last straw. Perhaps I should start a Human Fund and throw a Festivus for the rest of us. 

This morning, 7:30 on a Tuesday, I want to go home. I need a hug.

John and his wife...

...Eleni are very nice. They bought me breakfast. I wanted to buy, but didn't have enough cash.  We talked about all kinds of things. It was great. He feels bad. I feel bad. We’re over it. They took me to see the car. I took some pictures. John said I flipped around; did a 180. That's why my right side hurts more than the left, so it wasn't the bouncing onto the asphalt that wrenched me. And his hood looked fine. Phew.

Don’t need pain killers…

…today. I got hit by a car two nights ago. I was jay-crossing Burrard on foot when I got smoked. He was doing about 30km. I don’t think he hit the brakes till after we collided. I smashed his hood and windshield. Most of the physical damage was done when I met the asphalt. It was “my fault”, although, I can’t tell you with any certainty what happened. All I know is that I have a horseshoe up my ass. This is the third time I’ve been smoked by a moving vehicle. When will I learn? What should I learn? Jebus.

The event: 8pm at a comedy club called YukYuk’s. It was my friend’s birthday. I couldn’t afford the $40 dinner/show ticket; times are though. I said I would meet them in a couple of hours to have a drink. I never play frugal. I like to spend, but my conscience of late has been loud and clear – it say’s “Your life does not belong to you. It is part of a collective. You are not making collective choices. You are self-serving. This is not acceptable. Make choices that enlighten and strengthen. You are depleting and eroding… yourself, and the world around you. You lack respect.” I left the club. I felt good about it. I was jay-crossing Burrard on foot when I got smoked. Another friend lives directly across the street from the club; there was no crosswalk. Traffic was as at a Friday night standstill. I stepped on to the street. I remember thinking “Did I just get hit by a car?”

They said I was out for ten minutes. I revived to an EMT tech with fistful of smelling salts, a halo of curious heads, a nurse holding my hand, and an echo of voices that were judging me. My head was bleeding. My hands were covered in blood. I was very clam. I was very coherent. I knew what had happened (actually, it took the length of the ambulance ride for me understand why I left the restaurant where a dozen of my friends were about to enjoy a night out).

At the hospital, with all my limbs working, I lay there thinking about… well, I can’t actually write what I was thinking, but it wasn’t simple. They let me out after a slew of x-rays, a bunch of questions, and walk around the emergency ward. I hate hospitals, but only because they make me feel like an asshole. I’m sure I complained about something insignificant earlier that day. Do nurses and doctors have a heighten sense of self awareness that comes from being around the less fortunate?

The guy who hit me called the hospital 5 times. I wanted to apologize right away. If he was a nice guy, he might be feeling really bad right now. I also thought that maybe he wanted to confront me. My eyes rarely turn away for any pain or suffering that they observe. Some people “can’t look”. I was concerned that he might be one of these people and that he might he might have been angry with me for not giving him the choice of turning away. His name is John. I got home by taxi after an hour in hospital. I dropped off the bag as it was now too heavy to carry. A feeling of panic hit me as my apartment door closed behind me. I lost my cell phone in the accident. No phone meant that I was up the creek without a paddle. I walked out to look for my phone, but didn’t find it. The streets and people all looked different; so clear. All my expectations where gone.

I called him from a payphone after I got home. I was in shock. It was raining. I dialed the last 4 digits for his phone number, 1705, and froze. Back in high school, we used to right word on our calculators where the inverted number equals a word, like 8008 = BOOB, 58008 = BOOBS, 55378008 = BOOBLESS… and 1705 = SOLI (my name). Coinky? He was a very nice guy. He offered me anything I wanted. I wanted him to forgive me. Fuck. Still hurts to cry. I might meet him today.

I want to thank Ian and Jen for coming over at 2am. I was lying alone in bed shaking trying to determine if a person can feel their own brain bleed when they knocked on the door. They stayed until 4am.

I want to thank Tom and Gord – for everything.

I want to thank Colleen for being one of the people I might have called if I had a phone.

My back is a mess. Crick and crack. But whatever because... lucky lucky me ;)

I left a link to...

...blog on my UMBRELA CV site. I hope peeps don't think I'm nuts.

there is nothing...

...like being wrong. There is nothing like being wrong. How many times? Where does it end? And begin? He is not annonymous.

He is now he... to be me.

Let it renew and acknowlegde. Time is not a game. It is more real than anything he's ever known.

fuck. fuck he. fuuk mee. tomrrow is another day. pray, do, love, be, be it different than the last. sob. let it be different than today... so sorry...

for himself... foolish fuck. be sorry only yesterday. make tomorrow another thing. make tomorrow a treasure... tomorrow is all there is; now is all there is; everytime.

guilt is not fleeting. it hurts... sometimes forever... what was it worth? was it worth IT?

He...

He thinks he knows. He thinks he cares. Caring is about the little things. Where are they? The little things? What are they? Are they real? Are they perceived? Perception is fleeting.

Perception is fleeting.

It really is. It is dangerous. It just might have consumed (him) today. He is not just sad. He is disappointed... in himself. He feels like he never knew. Like he never knew. How do fix a legacy? How do you know what is right? Perception knows nothing.

It is time for pain. The real and obvious.

Perception in fleeting.

He wishes, often, that he could teach the world to sing. Will he learn? Will he know? How sad he feels........ so sad. So fucjkin; sad.

fuck him. i hop ehe learns.

i hope he learns.

he is sorry for everything. but sorry is often not enough.

sor-HE bastard.

I got enough money together...

...to get the Visa back in action and pay my blog fee.

Posts to come...

Anybody still check this thing  updates?

I moved into a new apt off English Bay in Vancouver. Sweet spot. Not cheap tho...

A bientot,

S.

My own personal Ramadan

“Sober in October” could have more aptly been named “Getting Sober in October”; almost there. I hope to make this an annual event. I find it interesting that within my own context, I find it not just useful, but essential to take one month a year to… center. My own personal Ramadan.

I used to fast during Ramadan. I did it from the ages of 12 to 25. This was challenging as a) I live in North America b) it is not easy and c) no one in my family joined; I was effectively “alone”. The most valuable thing I have ever done for myself is fast; truly a gift. Now I fast again, but this is not a fast of food or drink, not a fast for Islam or God. It is a fast hope and forthrightness; of introverted honesty and analysis. I wish to gift myself again; to grow.

So where have I been? Vancouver, sure… but that’s just a part of the story.

I had been rather involved in my job. Work was just starting to get interesting. I started to feel like I belonged and that the challenge was real and dynamic. Well, that feeling is gone. Not just that, but I am again discouraged with the current state of affaires such that the company I work for owns bars; bars sell alcohol; bars sell sex. So, for all intensive purposes, I am as much a dealer and pimp as I am a .NET developer. This view is extreme and non-representative of the complete entity, I agree, but against a backdrop of Iraq and US elections and poverty and despair and mainly who I am and who I want to be… sigh… it’s not them, it’s me.

The next few months will present a number of interesting challenges and imperative decisions. October, November, December… then what… beats the f&*k out of me; Sober in October and 30 in February. What the hell? Is life slipping by? I really can’t tell. Priorities are elusive.

Something feels wrong. On a mission to fix it… ;)

Sober in October

I haven't made an entry in ages. I miss it, I think.

Sober in October...

No third party chemicals of any kind.
Quitting smoking again (I can't believe this is still an issue).
No coffee.
No booze.
No nothing.

Pure and raw.
12 day Wild Rose Herbal Cleanse.

Why? Too many habits. Time for change. Time for focus.

We all have...

...weight; we all have baggage.

None are perfect.

I miss the blog. I dunno what's wrong; different.

B.L.O.C.K.

sometimes, within the darkness, i turn away from the light b/c it blinds me; irony of sorts.

sob.

i never wrtie without rebiewing. good ir bad. hmmm... maybe i sencr myslef. kurious,
:)

The fact is...

...we are what we work for.There is value in the time we invest.

I need to start managing my time…

…in a better way. I have many things to do. I am sure that I have enough time to do these things. These things are not getting done. I want to write more; read more; train more. I will. I think I will learn to do better preliminary planning. I need to start working with hours; micro-level. I tend to be very macro; big picture self-management. That needs to change.

15 minute walk
1 hour bus ride
15 minute walk
15 minute changing room
1.5 hour workout
15 minute changing room
1 hour bus ride
15 minute walk

4 hours 45 minutes, etc… that is real-time. I need to be managed real-time; micro-levels; steps towards a journey.

I have a job…

…working at Granville Entertainment. They own a number of bars and a hotel here in Vancouver. I did not pursue the path I was trying to lay out for myself. I was derailed. Well, I knew it was coming… tax time and money problems have arrived. I need to make a fair amount of coin. I can only pursue the one avenue at this time; to return to the field of IT.

But all is not lost! My job allows me to manage my own time. I have a membership at a local gym. I have found an Aikido studio. I will attend in the weekends. My rollerblade have new sealed bearings (sealed bearings are required in Vancouver because of the wet and gritty streets anywhere that is not the downtown area) and Ian’s Specialized hybrid bicycle now has inflated tires. My CB should be here early May.

Quitting smoking has its challenges. I will. I am getting closer to creating an environment that will be conducive to purifying and getting fit and flexible. I am getting way better in the kitchen. I think it might be time to buy a cookbook.

They need a sales dude…

…at Tristan/America. Perfect! I hope I get it. :)

I adore...

Nadija replied…

...and her answer was… as expected; a perfect balance of grace and strength. She awes me. I am not going. After careful consideration, it would be best for me to try and get things started for myself. A short run to NYC, as infinitely desirable as that might be, is not a responsible move. I would; I would. Now is the time to get established again.

Ricardo owes me money that I don’t have. This is a real danger. I need to earn some coin or I am dead in the water. I need…

I NEED. I hope what I think I need aligns with what it is I actually need. I hope I am guiding myself with a bright light.

My time with her is not over.

10:00am and I’ve been up for two hours. I am going find a job today.

Ironing out the madness

Part I – I sit here, on a Saturday morning…

…reviewing the current job situation. I am troubled. To my surprise, the job I left 8 weeks ago is still waiting for me. I greet this with mixed emotions. I am happy to have a job and that this job is challenging. I am concern about the amount of focus required to complete it, or moreover, concerned about the specific nature of that focus. I am not sure .NET and sales consolidation systems are “up my professional ally” right now.

Conundrum… so, what to do? I am going to take a really big chance and just do something. I like yoga. I like gyms. I like Aikido. I like music. I need to read books. I want to surround myself with these things. I am going to make it happen. I want technology to become the serious hobby and the rest to become my life.

I will stop hoping or wishing for things that I want and need.

Part II – It was the moment I stopped writing…

…that I considered talking to Ian about the idea. He suggested I stop moving and “vacationing” and that I focus for a while. I guess… I want to go to New York and see Nadija, get my bike, say hi to the familia and… that’s the issue; what then? I will surely want to ride my bike back. But that is a long and arduous journey. I want to go to New York. The reality of these decisions is over whelming. They are not easy. I will try be decidedly focused. The idea that I would fly across the country for a sushi dinner doesn’t intimidate me. It’s the idea that I might not make it “back”. But back to what? What have I really built here? Ricardo now owes me $1300USD and I am “nervous” about the whole deal. He stated that I am liable in that I “ran his van into the ground”; likely story. I did. I don’t know how to drive, it is true. That mere thought of an oily bolt makes me cringe… right… I was upset with the predictability of his accusations. I had rehearsed my answers from San Diego to Blaine.

Time to walk the dog.

Part III – I walked the dog, ate chocolate…

…and went to bed. It is Sunday morning. I need to design a proposal for Granville Entertainment. This task remains as daunting as it was yesterday. Nadija hasn’t yet replied to me about what sort of inconvenience I might be in NYC. I will not go without her “approval”, at least in so far as she tells me she has the time and space for me. I would never want to impose. I would never want to be disappointed.

I have been chatting with a friend from Montreal (hey Shawn!) and had a phone call with my dad. They both helped me clear up a few things. The bottom lines:

a) I am moving to the US in the next three months and only need a little time and money.
b) I do not need to repeat the same “building up” process that I went through in Montreal. I can start from where I left off. The Granville job would be a small but significant step backwards.

So, what to do? I’ll be right back.

I was in Blaine, Washington…

…when Ricardo and Jessica finally showed up to grab me. They were 2 hours late and blamed the border crossing. I don’t doubt it. Border crossings can be very frustrating. Upon, their arrival and after a quick inspection of the van, we sat down in the Blaine Casino/Bar/Restaurant/Town Hall/Library for a drink and a gamble. Jessica won $75.

I am in Blaine, Washington…

…and expectedly waiting for Ricardo and Jessica. At this point, they are only one hour late. I went over to the local brasserie for some reading. It freaked me out and I left. Blaine has an eerie small town feel right now. I can see the Canada/US border from the van. This phase of my journey is over.

Returning to Vancouver… I am looking forward to some sushi, seeing Ian, and Blackcomb. A beer or two at the Templeton might also be in order, but I think I am going to do something first. I am going raw… for one month. I want to clean up. I want to do yoga everyday. I wan to commit to myself in a whole new way.

I also need to find a job. This journey has wiped me out. I wonder if my Granville job is still waiting for me.

When I get back, I need to also clean up my affaires. Too many loose ends… I am getting rid of my car and shipping the bike out here. It’s gonna be a CB summer. I might go to New York to meet someone, and if I do, I will take the opportunity to fly home and deal with these affaires.

1:15 late. Maybe they got stuck at the border. I should call them soon. It’s raining. I haven’t seen rain in a while. Welcome home…

Seattle…

…has the best public market I have ever seen in the US.

Brasserie Montmartre…

…18yo scotches and Satre. Good times...

I think I can do it

This post had to be made as a single post, at least for now. That is the only way to make sure the flow is maintained.

Ok. I am gonna try and detail SOME things that have happened over the last six weeks. Let us start at the beginning.

Ricardo and the Templeton… If I think back, you already know who Ricardo and the Templeton are, but just in case… I met them (Ricardo and Jessica) because of a WiFi connection that they offer up for free at their restaurant, the Templeton (www.thetempleton.com). After about two or three days of hanging out, we agreed that I would do their website. The fact that this exchange was cashless (I was feeling bored and just needed something to do) allowed for Templeton beers and burgers and soups to flow freely. It is amazing a how much beer come out of a cost price tap… so, talking and drinking and drinking and eating and going to movies and picking up diner supplies and mixing tunes and sawing wood and iPods and BMWs and the army of kids and one fine day later… “Do you think you could pick up a van for me in San Diego?”

So I arrive in San Diego after a tumultuous drive from Vancouver. What was the trouble? Ricardo is, in effect, a paradox. He is a father of four and a wicked nice guy, but about as organized as a… a… well, not very well organized. I was half asleep on a couch when he called at 2:30am to say “Ok. I’m ready. Let’s go!” He had about a month to get this trip together. At 2:29am I was convinced that we were not going make the flight. The paradox: you should see his CV. This guy has been places and knows things. I am not sure I understand how he does it ;) Good guy anyway…

We made the flight. I drove. He slept. Good times ;)

And onward… I get to Oakland, call Boris, meet my first Westie Americans, and connect to San Diego. San Diego is beautiful… and a great place to land. Like Florida without the Floridians, whatever those are tabernac. So I get on this shuttle and realize that somewhere along the way, I had lost my wallet. Ricardo had given me over $1000US to pay for a slew for repairs that were undertaken on van. I used my head and said “All your greens in one basket makes no sense. Play the odds…”… and the odds where against me. I lost $80 and all my ID and cards, excluding for my passport. After paying for the shuttle and the repairs, I was left with $6 and a headache. Calling all Boris’eses!!! 911! Boris didn’t call me until the next midday. After speaking with Visa and sorting out a solution (I got a new card less than 12 hours later), I bought myself a six pack of New Castle and sat in the van on the wharf. Strange word… wharf. I whunder…

About three beers into the six, a cop pulls up and sees exactly what I am doing. FUCK! Here we go with no ID or money in a van that I don’t own, etc… typical Soli style. I put the beer down and get out of the vehicle. The cop gets out and starts telling me how it is illegal to drink in a vehicle. I nod, agreeing with the law itself stating that people do the craziest things and that I am only waiting for stupid Boris (I forgave him very quickly ;) and that I, of course, am surely not one of those people. I am drinking in my motor vehicle R-E-S-P-O-N-S-I-B-L-Y. Yeah, whatever… The cop walks over to his trunk and pulls out a box and I’m thinking that my empty stomach and the way I inhaled the first two beers is going to land me SLAP BANG into the slammer. He pulls two devices out of this box and proceeds to rip the top off one of them. What is that? Am I supposed to pee in that? I have to pee really badly, but that’s container is just too tiny. He sticks the second device into the first and spoons out a creamy substance. What the fuck is this? This can’t be good? Then he eats the substance. Strawberry yogurt! SOB! He sits down and peels a banana.

“So where are you from?”

“Vancouver”

“Canadian, eh? What’s up with you guys up there? You and yer Marijuana laws? Flipin’ and floppin’…” I’ll mention here that I am driving a VW Vanagon.

“Yeah, eh? I blame/credit? the US their usual strong arm tactics.”

Waiting… waiting…

“Why don’t you just legalize it and open the door for us here in the US?”

You have got to be kidding!? We talked for an hour. He hates drunks; loves Po-Theads. He thinks that drinking causes far too many problems on the streets and in the domestic domain. HA! I was a hair away from asking for a number.

I slept in the van, woke up the next day, and it was off to Ocean Beach. Boris called me late afternoon. I picked him up and we headed to LA.

The trip to LA... was very tiring. The van was still new to me and my ability to roll this 6000lbs machine smoothly down the 1 was… just adequate. Are you supposed to sweat while driving a van? I never thought so. 1 to the 5 to the 405… and BANG! “I think I ripped one of those ‘reflecty deallies’ off the road.” Franka froonk scritch and pull over… da tye-her she is flat. Quelle dommage! B and I got the new tire on in under 7 minutes. He hates to admit it, but we make a really lethal team.

We got to LA too late for the Viper Room but just in time for Red Rocks. I end up going there two more times. We met our friends and had a drink. Double vodka and a Heineken. Dizzy and driving in LA… good times.

New tires… were a must. Venice beach ensued. We rented bicycles and rode the ride. Boris was starting to get irritated with me, and I with him. It’s hard to put people like us together. Boris is… for our purposes, a fascist monk. I am not the ideal traveling companion for a fascist or a monk. I am not a monk, nor a fascist. And by definition, neither is Boris… good thing I understand him… and he I? Maybe that little bit was just for Boris…

The next night we went to Hotel Marmotte for a few drinks. The place was gorgeous; a drive on Mulholland. Again, gorgeous. I really like LA, but for everything that it is not. It is not glamorous or exciting. There is no impact. It was almost boring. NY gives you this enormous BANG that sits with you for days after. LA was like a big suburb, void of any particular snap or kick. I was happy to see it that way. I was not intimidated or overwhelmed. I have been back three times since. My opinion has not changed.

To Monterey… which was not our desired destination. We drove up the 1, loving it all, until the sunset and the twisters. I am, without doubt, a very good driver. I am because I have been driving and practicing since the age of 6. I have taken various courses and have raced and I drive a 115HP bike, etc, blah, whatever… This highway and this van pulled at EVERY SHRED of skill I had. In all my years of driving (123… 17 years in real cars while really driving) - I have never been UNABLE to smoke a cigarette behind the wheel. On this day, I tired and I failed. Boris even took a moment to say “Thanks man!” I assumed it was for not killing him. I wasn’t even sure we were done, and then… BANG. See ya later water pump, and as a result, the head gasket on the left block. “WELCOME TO BIG SUR!” read the sign at the foot of this hotel parking lot. My ass… they kicked us out of their gold plated parking lot faster than I could finish my phone call with the tow truck guy; literally.

The tow truck guy… was a special one. Boris said nothing to him the entire time, and I mean NOTHING. I tried and got frustrated after about 20 minutes. The ties for the van kept popping off. We are still on the 1 here. This means NO MISTAKES! I keep capping my letters, but I really do mean to. I was starting to get really pissed off. I dislike incompetence when you should be dealing with a pro. This was not a walk in the park… 6000lbs of metal needs to be secured… infallibly.

So we arrive in Monterey… and let me tell you… not a place to raise your kids… unless you want them saying “nigger’ and “fucking Mexicans” over and over. Meet Tony, our new mechanic. I hate racism. Firstly, because it is ridiculous, and secondly, because I am an Arab… Arab in America. I you hate Mexicans, what do you think of me? For all intensive purposes, I am politically “against you”. Hehe…

Boris and I slept in the van. I have to say, Boris was a surprisingly good sport about all this. I was waiting for the “Soli… why would I think a ride with you would be fun? Your choices are insane. You should have never agreed to this van deal.” But instead, he was reassuring and supportive. Kudos! Monk mode in effect!

The next morning... fuck it. More on this later, but in nutshell: up at 6am because of the 12 rosters in the Mexicans back yard, Laundry, ruined cell phone, near-fight with a guy that reminds me of that guy from Seinfeld that Kramer is afraid of… “Who doesn’t what to wear the ribbon!?”

There is bunch of stuff I’d like to say about Tony the ex-con, devout Christian, bigot, nice guy, but now is not the time. All I’ll say is that he tried to help us find a hotel, and when we failed, brought us blankets. I used them every van-sleep night.

I love you all.

We rented a car… and off to San Fran! On the ride there, there was a fatal crash not far ahead of us… and somehow, this ride still qualifies as uneventful. Wow. I hope they were old. In San Fran I met Joi. This was much like LA and much like any experience I’ve had with a famous or renowned person… a type of anticlimax. When I met Noam Chomsky, I thought that I would be… overwhelmed and impacted, but this was not the case. Just good times and I like it better that way.

Boris and I got a room at the Holiday Inn; very nice but far too expensive.

We hung out, drank a little, ate a little, looked a little, and then I drove the rental back to Monterey. I really don’t like it there, especially after a spot like San Fran. After a night at the “kiss my ass” hotel, I was started toward the garage. BANG. You have GOT TO BE kidding me; a flat. It took 12 minutes as I was still warm from the LA deal. The garage only made the day worse. I hadn’t yet realized that the gasket had been blow and just got the news. Ring, ring… Ricardo? I have some news. He now owes me $1900 USD. I had to go to UHAUL and get a truck with a trailer. So I drop off the rental, grab a cab, get the truck, go to the garage, pay with a Visa the garage doesn’t accept, load the van, and start the trip to San Diego. This is where the original mechanic was waiting for the mess of metal. I have never driven a tow before. I have never driven a tow down 7 to 12 degree inclines with winds of 12 – 30 - 50 mph… and I started at 8pm. By… yawn… 6am, I started seeing San Diego exits. I arrived in El Cajon (a.k.a. Vanland a.k.a. South Park) at 10am. Off to Ocean Beach…

I only got as far as downtown before… grabbing a hotel with a coupon I had found in a hotel discount magazine. I needed to get to Arizona. The van needed a week. I couldn’t rent a car because I didn’t have ID (again Kudos to Boris for trusting me with the vehicle). Off to the airport. $200 later I was off to Phoenix.

Guns and dust… summarize my trip to Phoenix. My sister lives there and my cousin flew in from MTL. Good times. We had fun, but not because Phoenix is fun. Sometimes, things get so bad that you have to laugh. I was laughing. I have another cousin that also lives in Arizona, Fountain Hills, and this place is… special. There are two things you need to know to understand the context. Firstly, I had mentioned to US cuz that I have never killed anything. He was shocked. “But you’re Canadian! You can hunt all kinds!” and he insisted I kill something as soon as possible. I declined. Secondly and a few days after, my sister, in his presence, passes me a pass for the local yoga studio.

“What the fuh is that fo’?”
“I like yoga.”
“Shut the fuh up wid dat shit. FUH! U gay?”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA too fuhin' fuhny. MANWICH!

In all fairness, he was a fantastic host. Please check the pics. Arizona would not be as beautiful without his contribution. Nor would I have heard all the stories he had to tell. This guy, at least from his descriptions, is both a murderer and a saint. He is the first killer I’ve ever talked with. He talked about his presumed “first time” in Nigeria during the riots over a decade ago. I was confused. I still am.

If a man goes temporarily insane, which he can and might and will, can we take a moral stand against what it took to make him crack? When is it “enough”? When is it justifiable to mow down an undetermined number of people from the sunroof of a car with an automatic weapon? How well do you know yourself? What would I have done? I just don’t know; perplexing.

Back to San Diego… and finally to a hostel. I went out that night, alone, and got pulled out of the bar for a discussion. The bouncer had this feeling that I was out to start a fight with him. He pulled me out as said that now was the time. I said “Wuh?” Five pints and four vodkas later… this was not a walk in the park. We made up. I went back in. Hot ladies in San Diego… but as is the norm, none for me ;)

I woke in the morning to start my venture to Ocean Beach. At this point, I was just looking for some R&R. I was waiting to checkout and I met Nic the Aussie. Great guy! We had a blast. He was waiting, like me, to figure out how to get to the beach. We discussed and went together. He stuck with me for “many” days. I can’t recall how many. He was once burned in a fire when he was 12 and got a big settlement. He was using these dollars to travel. We went to beach. OCEAN BEACH. I met Nadija, barley. I took me five days to talk her. I had left and returned before finding the confidence. I rarely lack confidence, but she made as shy. I like when that happens. Problem is that I’m a goof.

Shit. Unknown to you I just left the notebook for a little while. Thusly, I have lost track entirely of what I was talking about. Well in fact, I could pick it up, but the timing is off. I’d rather discuss where I just escaped to…

“So I was trying to score a joint” and I ran into a guy at a bar. Standard? No, not today; he invited me to the hood n’ home. I have knack of getting into these things. I trustingly followed this guy right back to his “white ghetto”. The whole way, STOP…

I can’t say why but I feel like I need to curb the truth here, to meet “the readers” expectations. I don’t want to. I don’t care how I got into this. I am young and able. I made a knuckle ring out of my key chain. I will take a picture. I wanted to see. I always want to see. I don’t think it is bad or wrong to pursue the unknown in this way. I do think that it is dangerous. I am young an able. I am searching. The desire for a joint brought to this guys house where his “wife” and two children waited. The banter and hip and hop that engulfed me and was overwhelming.

Fuckin’ distractions... I just ordered an empanada from this place where I am sitting and it is fuckin’ brilliant. Why mention this… because of the fact that I hunted down Jack’s Famous Crawfish b.s. and was sorely disappointed. It cost me $33 US and a missed expectation. ZUT! When will I learn!? Here, I walk in because the bus is outside and for $3… I am amazed.

Pensive Portland…

So back to the story… XBox – Grand Theft Auto. This is a terrible game to play in a ghetto with a 3 year old and a 6 year old watching. Moreover, the domestic situation was not at its peak.

Man, this takes forever. I’m actually exhausted. Typing is not the easiest thing to do right now.

The after a number of different “episodes’, we reach an agreement and moved things forward. “You hearin’ me” kept coming out over and over from the mouth of my host. I looked at his daughters for a long time. They were beautiful… and so young and so young. I set the notebook up with episodes of Family Guy and the Simpsons… yeah, I know, inappropriate viewing, but they were just watching us play Grand Tourismo, so…

Here it is… strHaight up… the place was dank. It smelled of… something old and worn and wet. When I walked in, “the girls” were just finishing up a bowl of starch and “package mix” cheese sauce, you know, the kind that you get with a box of Fettuccini Alferdo. Writing that made me cry. Think what you will. I think that alcohol is a depressant. So this chair the older one was sitting on was broken into about six visible pieces; three other pieces were obviously missing. The little mermaid was playing on the TV with some sort of nasty connection problem. The mother was perfumed and raring. As she left, he called a sort of warning to not “mess around” tonight because they had a day tomorrow. Back to the notebook and the cartoons… each episode runs about 20 minutes so I had to keep running in to check on them. Each time, I had a chance to talk to them without the implication of their father. At some point during our varied discussions, the older mention a pain she had in her midsection. I asked about it, thinking that maybe, using my very limited knowledge of medical information, I might be able to do something about the pain. She said the pain was probably bugs.

“Really? Bugs?”

“Yeah. Bug bites prolly frum muh beaid”

“Where… did you say?”

“Mah bed”

“Sweety, I gotta go. You need anything right now?”

And I just ate a “fuckin’ brilliant” empanada. Whatever.

I hope.

I’ll post now. I might change some of the wording in this post. I wrote it under the influence of Pensive and Pilsner.

Last night

I wrote this drunken freakish last night:

Sitting in Portcouver...

...passing time. Not really sure what I’m waiting for. I wish I had found the time to blog, but it just wasn't there. Used the Canon instead. My blogmate... Scratch, spark, puff... over and over. What's next? THC is a mystery to me. I want more... from myself and then the world. I need to think straight... buckle down... get a life. Then what am I living? Feels like a commercial, but guess it always did. WEQUITDRINKINGDOTCOM. On my list of things to do and see. UMBRELADOTCOM. Cool...

When do the fragments cease being fragments? When to they make the whole? Like the body, the mind requires a constant rhythm... and pulse. I think my pulse is erratic. Is that right? Am I supposed to learn this way? In moments? Where is science? My gut is made of what exactly? Why does my logic seem innate? Is it a result of choice? Have I made this bed? Where is my 2.5? Where are my standards? Lacking expectations means, is some ways, lacking standards... even standards of the self. I have no expectations of self. Am I fortunate or...

The portish have studded tires. I wonder why.

Where in the world...

...is my ass. I am currently in San Fran and heading back to the Great North. It is 9am and I am showered and ready for yet another day. I always wake up before my travel buddies. I love California. This state is not typically American, at least not against my East coast experience. I feel like I could easily get along with these people.

I am sorry for not keeping the blog up-to-date. I had decided to forget about technology for a little while... of course not excluding the Canon or the iPOD. I love them BIG TIME.

So a quick run down of where I've been (details to come):

Left Vancouver in a van for Seattle.
Got on a plane and ended up in San Diego to pick up the van (1987 VW Vanagon).
Met Boris and drove to LA.
Broke the van.
Rented a car and drove to San Fran.
Towed the car back to San Diego.
Flew to Arizona to meet my sis and cuz.
Flew back to San Diego.
OCEAN BEACH OCEAN BEACH OCEAN BEACH (a toast to Nadia, Keri, Chris, Gary, and Nic)
Drove to LA. SIX FLAGS!
Drove back to San Diego.
NADIA & OCEAN BEACH OCEAN BEACH OCEAN BEACH
Drove to LA with a nut named Kerin.
Drove to San Fran with a nut named Kerin. Told her to never try to reach me. I hope I never see her again.

I am in San Fran. This is the city. I feel at home here and Cali ain't that big, well, not against the CB9 anyway ;)

I NEED MY BIKE NOW!

I first thing I do when I get back to Van is to a) make some money b) get my bike to the West c) leave Canada for Cali.

I miss you.

Montreal, thank you for showing me what a multicultural city can be like. Your standards have allowed me to see and understand the rest of the world with hope and tolerence. I am a better person because of it.

Writting that made me sad and I don't know why...

Man of the Hour

I enjoyed ending Big Fish with this song...

Download file

"What is death?"

The other, on Star Trek - The Next Gen, Jean-Luc Picard was asked "What is death?" by "Data" (not actually Data but a god-like being that took the form of Data):

DATA: I have a question, sir. What is death?

PICARD: You've picked probably the most difficult of all questions, Data. Some explain it by inventing gods wearing their own form... and argue that the purpose of the entire universe is to maintain themselves in their present form in an Earth-like garden which will give them pleasure through all eternity. And at the other extreme, assuming that is an "extreme," are those who prefer the idea of our blinking into nothingness with all our experiences, hopes and dreams only an llusion.

DATA: Which do you believe?

PICARD: Considering the marvelous complexity of our universe, its clockwork perfection, its balances of this against that... matter, energy, gravitation, time, dimension, pattern, I believe our existence must mean more than a meaningless illusion. I prefer to believe that my and your existence goes beyond Euclidian (: of, relating to, or based on the geometry of Euclid or a geometry with similar axioms”) and other "practical" measuring systems... and that, in ways we cannot yet fathom, our existence is part of a reality beyond what we understand now as reality.

Big question for such a show… my jaw dropped.

The answer was... consistent ;)

I love Star Trek.

High speed...

…web access is to be installed today. Dial-up has caused so sort of physiological effect… a feeling of helplessness or inadequacy. I am glad that this situation is ending today.

With each day…

…that passes, my needs change. Moreover, my wants change. The only constant has been the yoga. I have fallen helplessly in love with yoga – with its strength and its caress. I love it as much as it loves me. And there is still so much to learn.

I wish to love a woman with a similar sincerity and integrity – with such compromise, trust, and respect.

Yes… I am a little lonely these days. C’est la vie.

I’ve tired to share my enthusiasm and maybe a little of what I’ve learned, but few on the “outside” want to hear it. It is a sad for me to think that the success of one is compared against, or accentuates, the failure of another.

I finally accept this in the world.

The other day, while shopping for groceries, my cell phone rang. This was, in my opinion, rather normal. The call was from one of the few friends I have here in Vancouver. We discussed our plans for the coming evening. She then described the unfortunate events of the previous evening. A common friend had been injured while horsing around. She had to get three stitches. During this conversation a girl looked at me with a sort of disgust. I let my mind fall off the conversation to try and review what had been described on my part. Had I been offensive? Was I overtly loud or obnoxious? I couldn’t figure it out. The girl in store mumbles something to my face to the tune of “You fuckin’ selfish asshole!” I ended my conversation.

ME: “Ok… what?”

GIRL: “Why are you talking on the phone?”

ME: “So that the person who called me has someone to talk to.”

GIRL: “I don’t want to hear your conversation. You are polluting my shopping experience with your phone and such. You knew you were shopping. You should have turned your phone off. Where do you get off?!”

ME: “What?”

GIRL: “I bet you were a better person before you had a cell phone.”

ME: “(to the now classified FREAK) Wow. I think, and only for your own benefit, that you might want to reassess the way you see certain things… goodbye.”

So why tell this story? For the first time, being in this type of situation, I didn’t try to defend myself. I didn’t challenge her. I didn’t feel any anger or angst. I calmly accepted her opinion as her own, and clearly in contrast to mine, without the desire to “fix”, “clarify”, or “equalize” the discussion or context. I felt or feel a little closer to the tree that sways in the wind, without falling or breaking.

Two days earlier, before overcoming a few personal challenges, I may have tried to confront and dispute her obnoxious theory of urban cell phone etiquette. WHEN IN ROME SWEET HEART! Oops… lost a branch. S’ok… ;)

I have to not be offended by the offensive. The person harboring the prejudice is often more likely to be at a disadvantage than the one to whom the prejudice is targeted.

I tried not to despise her. It was better. It was beautiful.

[First drafted offline at 5:12pm on January 5th, 2004]

As the world turns…

…I turn with it. My writer’s block and mild depression are over. I blamed the booze, but I know that it’s not the booze. It is that I needed something to do… something positive. And with that, I watched Big Fish (Tim Burton), and offered my services for free to the Templeton. I told the owner that I would build his site for free. I asked him to help me secure myself in this city. He smiled and insisted that he would do his best. That was enough for me. I am thusly trying to build a name for myself in Vancouver, in much the same way that I get anything in my life… from the bottom up. It is lucky I climb fast.

[First drafted offline at 5:00pm on January 5th, 2004]