Too much.
Hearts linked in communion
Holding those shrouded in agony
Unconscionable pain
Suffering beyond imagining
Colin, my god, Colin. I'm not ready to say goodbye. Checkers at Mara; smokes and budweiser, loading up your truck with firewood, watching your wakeboard skills. Powerful man's man, softer side too.
The unstoppable...stopped.
Gods, the pain that your wife and boys are going through. J;H.
Tears are welled up but not ready to come yet.
My prayer for you, brother, is peace.
My prayer for your family - just getting through it now. First days, weeks, months. And healing.
We'll never forget you brother.
Peace.
Namaste
Mez
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
28 - 21
Vas is das?
Let's see.
Knife Net, if you were into mnemonics and the peg system.
docrt
Or 4, if you were into numerological reductionism.
Or 25%, if you were to look at it as intended, which was an exercise in amusement that ended up, as always, leading my train of thought to deconstructing things to such an extent that the resultant pieces probably had more psychic weight than the original thought structure. To wit:
Driving for a doctor's appointment, through 45 minutes of drizzled traffic. Three quarters of the way there, late as I always am, I started thinking about those lollipop nightmares that can help or hinder a trip so effectively - you know, traffic lights. More specifically, I started thinking how much of perception is projection. The lights don't give a hairy rat's ass whether I'm late or not, and they certainly don't have feelings, thoughts, or the ability to take a willful engagement in my thoroughfare.
And yet, the natural reaction when approaching the x+nth light, [where the value of n inversely proportional to my rising level of frustration] is to squeal a mighty fuck you to the light.
...oh man, this is unbelievable. Every f*ing light that I hit is red. FUUUUCK
The intimation, of course, is that it is unfair. The intimation of the intimation is that they are stacked against me. They being the lights.
Across the firing of synapses, electrical activity becoming chemical and sorting itself off through god's own organic decision tree, I have very, VERY quickly gone from starting and stopping in a Pavlovian haze at every light, to anthropomporhizing the hapless bastards and making them little arch enemies of my traipse across town.
Even now looking at it on epaper, it sounds absurd. But thoughts are. And a car commuter's thoughts even more so.
Anyways, I chewed this over for a bit and decided to start keeping track, to see what the score actually was. On the mental left, ladies and gentlemen, the green light winner circle, and on the right, the red light winners circle. Simply stated, every green light I hit would be 'tallied' on my left hand. Being this was a mental process, it was an imaginary left. Why the left for green? I don't know, maybe something to research later out of curiousity, but for me green red left right seem to 'feel' more correct than vice versa.
So probability cloud wafted into my perception, and collapsed as I hit each stoplight. What was interesting, though, was how this simple act could become so awesomely complicated with very little effort. To wit, I had to decide:
-What constitued a 'true' vs. 'non-true' green or red? Simplest case, pulling up to the light, no cars ahead of me, and the light turns as I approach. Trickier case - pulling up to the light and being stuck behind one person making a left hand turn. The light was green when I got there, but I could not proceed...Does it count as green or not green? What about coming up to a long line of cars where there was no obstruction per se, but it took a while for me to get to the crossing point and then the light changed. Green or not green?What if I arrived at the light behind cars and it was red, but turned green after I had only just tapped the brakes on?
Which led me to think what my motivation was.
And on and on.
I settled for some simple rules, clear cuts were clear cuts, any marginals would lean one way or the other based on the flow. Did I ultimately get held up at the light or get to proceed based on the light's status?
The take-away friends? Several thoughts:
Let's see.
Knife Net, if you were into mnemonics and the peg system.
docrt
Or 4, if you were into numerological reductionism.
Or 25%, if you were to look at it as intended, which was an exercise in amusement that ended up, as always, leading my train of thought to deconstructing things to such an extent that the resultant pieces probably had more psychic weight than the original thought structure. To wit:
Driving for a doctor's appointment, through 45 minutes of drizzled traffic. Three quarters of the way there, late as I always am, I started thinking about those lollipop nightmares that can help or hinder a trip so effectively - you know, traffic lights. More specifically, I started thinking how much of perception is projection. The lights don't give a hairy rat's ass whether I'm late or not, and they certainly don't have feelings, thoughts, or the ability to take a willful engagement in my thoroughfare.
And yet, the natural reaction when approaching the x+nth light, [where the value of n inversely proportional to my rising level of frustration] is to squeal a mighty fuck you to the light.
...oh man, this is unbelievable. Every f*ing light that I hit is red. FUUUUCK
The intimation, of course, is that it is unfair. The intimation of the intimation is that they are stacked against me. They being the lights.
Across the firing of synapses, electrical activity becoming chemical and sorting itself off through god's own organic decision tree, I have very, VERY quickly gone from starting and stopping in a Pavlovian haze at every light, to anthropomporhizing the hapless bastards and making them little arch enemies of my traipse across town.
Even now looking at it on epaper, it sounds absurd. But thoughts are. And a car commuter's thoughts even more so.
Anyways, I chewed this over for a bit and decided to start keeping track, to see what the score actually was. On the mental left, ladies and gentlemen, the green light winner circle, and on the right, the red light winners circle. Simply stated, every green light I hit would be 'tallied' on my left hand. Being this was a mental process, it was an imaginary left. Why the left for green? I don't know, maybe something to research later out of curiousity, but for me green red left right seem to 'feel' more correct than vice versa.
So probability cloud wafted into my perception, and collapsed as I hit each stoplight. What was interesting, though, was how this simple act could become so awesomely complicated with very little effort. To wit, I had to decide:
-What constitued a 'true' vs. 'non-true' green or red? Simplest case, pulling up to the light, no cars ahead of me, and the light turns as I approach. Trickier case - pulling up to the light and being stuck behind one person making a left hand turn. The light was green when I got there, but I could not proceed...Does it count as green or not green? What about coming up to a long line of cars where there was no obstruction per se, but it took a while for me to get to the crossing point and then the light changed. Green or not green?What if I arrived at the light behind cars and it was red, but turned green after I had only just tapped the brakes on?
Which led me to think what my motivation was.
And on and on.
I settled for some simple rules, clear cuts were clear cuts, any marginals would lean one way or the other based on the flow. Did I ultimately get held up at the light or get to proceed based on the light's status?
The take-away friends? Several thoughts:
- Ultimately, even though it SEEMED I had a shitload of lights to wait through, 25% MORE of the lights that I went through in total were enablers (green) as opposed to hindrances (red).
- At times during the trip, it was pretty much balanced. My guess is the longer the trip, the more normalizing the curve would be.
- That modelling something even this simplistic needs to rely on lots of variable and interdependencies - some external, some internal
- That I could easily decision-tree out from there to the universe and beyond without much skull-duggery:
- 28-21 today. Thought experiment. Let's take all the lights that I hit in a day, and use them as a marker as to how the probability cloud 'favoured' or didn't 'favour' me today. Let's add all those up for a month and see if it's been a good bad / month. Let's keep going - year, years, life. Now let's add similar markers from across my life - how many elevators are waiting for me, crosswalks with a walk sign when I approach, change rooms at the pool there for my taking no waiting, on and on and on. Let's graph them all and slice them and dice them and numerologically reduce them and chart them and look at my life through a shimmering blanket of scatter points that fold in and amongst themselves then explode in a glorious unending cacophony of light. yes, Cacophony of light.
- Now, lets take all those numbers and add them to every number-reduced word and number I have ever had associated with me. Let's reduce them all and see what number I am.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Islands in the Stream
So, in my kosmic geography (small k, Mr. Wilber, as it's everything in MY existence, which is clearly just a part of the great K Kosmic. Ultimately, there's no separation so there shouldn't be an issue), we have this stream:
(Underattachment in childhood -> search for meaning -> overattachment in first love relationship -> relationship breakdown -> existentialist drowning -> Getstalt dialogue-> Witness!)
Problem is, the endpoint of the stream is a state that comes and goes. When grace reveals it, I can identify with awareness and witness. But then contraction comes like a thief in the night, covers grace like a dark blanket, and I continue on in spite of mySelf.
The Integral Framework provides a map for navigating this topography. I will have states (witness) intersecting with stages in my life. And that stage is somewhere between postmodern and integral. Reaching for 2nd tier, at times touching some of its border lands, but not Realizing enough of what I've tasted to actually move into the new geography and say goodbye to the old for good.
It comes out so clean on paper - just do what it takes to move to a higher stage, continue the practices that will bring true realization of the states, and yowsah, you're there.
But it takes so little to come apart into a deconstructed mess.
Let's listen in, shall we, to the other stream, River Ego, exploring old canyons and inventing new ones in the internal eosystem.
pretty straight forward, all you have to do is take a quadrant approach, balance it through regular practice. simple! booya! Or is it, because the associative path to that is a stream towards needing a community to practice in, that should be a part of the quadrant approach should it not? Sangha? Community? And then you have Cohen and company, who at one glance seem credible and cutting edge, connected with Wilber for Gawd's sake - but on the other hand, just don't sit right at some level. He's violent with his student's egos - and on one hand it's needed but on the other hand, seems to lack compassion. And then what about just meditating and exercising, isn't that enough of the quadrant life to keep me moving, well, that would be without a teacher, and that doesn't seem right, or maybe the teacher is my group of teachers and readings throughout the years.
And through it all, failure. I've tried for permanent changes so many times, and always they have fallen short. Maybe this too has to be accepted, unconditionally.
So many books I've bought and haven't finished that I should finish. Any one of them could be the answer
Maybe that's the thing, maybe they are ALL the answer
But if they were, why would I still be searching and looking for the answer, for my purpose.
Maybe, mayhap, because I have discovered truth but not REALIZED it.
My ass hurts.
(Underattachment in childhood -> search for meaning -> overattachment in first love relationship -> relationship breakdown -> existentialist drowning -> Getstalt dialogue-> Witness!)
Problem is, the endpoint of the stream is a state that comes and goes. When grace reveals it, I can identify with awareness and witness. But then contraction comes like a thief in the night, covers grace like a dark blanket, and I continue on in spite of mySelf.
The Integral Framework provides a map for navigating this topography. I will have states (witness) intersecting with stages in my life. And that stage is somewhere between postmodern and integral. Reaching for 2nd tier, at times touching some of its border lands, but not Realizing enough of what I've tasted to actually move into the new geography and say goodbye to the old for good.
It comes out so clean on paper - just do what it takes to move to a higher stage, continue the practices that will bring true realization of the states, and yowsah, you're there.
But it takes so little to come apart into a deconstructed mess.
Let's listen in, shall we, to the other stream, River Ego, exploring old canyons and inventing new ones in the internal eosystem.
pretty straight forward, all you have to do is take a quadrant approach, balance it through regular practice. simple! booya! Or is it, because the associative path to that is a stream towards needing a community to practice in, that should be a part of the quadrant approach should it not? Sangha? Community? And then you have Cohen and company, who at one glance seem credible and cutting edge, connected with Wilber for Gawd's sake - but on the other hand, just don't sit right at some level. He's violent with his student's egos - and on one hand it's needed but on the other hand, seems to lack compassion. And then what about just meditating and exercising, isn't that enough of the quadrant life to keep me moving, well, that would be without a teacher, and that doesn't seem right, or maybe the teacher is my group of teachers and readings throughout the years.
And through it all, failure. I've tried for permanent changes so many times, and always they have fallen short. Maybe this too has to be accepted, unconditionally.
So many books I've bought and haven't finished that I should finish. Any one of them could be the answer
Maybe that's the thing, maybe they are ALL the answer
But if they were, why would I still be searching and looking for the answer, for my purpose.
Maybe, mayhap, because I have discovered truth but not REALIZED it.
My ass hurts.
Gestalt meets Atman
From May 2007
It's all interconnected. It might take twenty years and a long look over your shoulder to see that the rock you hit was in a current that fed a stream that difussed into an ocean that you've just 'discovered', but it was there all along.
Let's look at a stream:
Underattachment in childhood -> search for meaning -> overattachment in first love relationship -> relationship breakdown -> existentialist drowning -> Getstalt dialogue-> Witness!
Sitting there, looking through spectacles at the kind and knowing interpersonal trail guide, then suddenly shifted backwards, watching the looking through the eyes and the spectacles.
How could this Atman-moment have grown but from the fecund neurotic / obsessive compulsive soil that produced the fragmented personality looking for wholeness, the many looking for the one?
It's all interconnected. It might take twenty years and a long look over your shoulder to see that the rock you hit was in a current that fed a stream that difussed into an ocean that you've just 'discovered', but it was there all along.
Let's look at a stream:
Underattachment in childhood -> search for meaning -> overattachment in first love relationship -> relationship breakdown -> existentialist drowning -> Getstalt dialogue-> Witness!
Sitting there, looking through spectacles at the kind and knowing interpersonal trail guide, then suddenly shifted backwards, watching the looking through the eyes and the spectacles.
How could this Atman-moment have grown but from the fecund neurotic / obsessive compulsive soil that produced the fragmented personality looking for wholeness, the many looking for the one?
Alone together, Into the Sun
From May, 2007
The backdrop.
An existentialist, for whom all points back to the one as opposed to the One. Everything points back to self, and the bright lights of the intellect clearly articulate the borders, the end point. Anything beyond is not worthy of attention, could only be the result of an overactive imagination or the failure to see Reason.
The narcissist, who simply lays claim to the existentialist's illumination as another shimmering piece of chattel, more of the inventory that can be used in the supply and demand of their need's needs.
Picture it.
Endless black, God's inkwell. This time, from nothing, two - the Narcissist and the Existentialist, a mere speck but growing larger. They pass the vantage point and we have a clear view of the two in their bubble, looking through each other with indifference. Things change with light. Faint and diffused at first, silk mesh across the inkwell, blue ice to white heat
to saffron fire.
The Existentialist notices the heat first - the Narcissist his discomfort - as the mercury climbs. First boundary gone as the bubble contorts and dissolves as the sheet of fire grows beyond imagination.
Fear bursts the next boundary unconsciously, as they embrace in the face of the known-unknown. Narcissist's wings blaze around the Existentialist, and for one glorious, naked moment before conflagration, the final boundaries are transcended, four eyes become two eyes; and I-I swallows the sun whole.
The backdrop.
An existentialist, for whom all points back to the one as opposed to the One. Everything points back to self, and the bright lights of the intellect clearly articulate the borders, the end point. Anything beyond is not worthy of attention, could only be the result of an overactive imagination or the failure to see Reason.
The narcissist, who simply lays claim to the existentialist's illumination as another shimmering piece of chattel, more of the inventory that can be used in the supply and demand of their need's needs.
Picture it.
Endless black, God's inkwell. This time, from nothing, two - the Narcissist and the Existentialist, a mere speck but growing larger. They pass the vantage point and we have a clear view of the two in their bubble, looking through each other with indifference. Things change with light. Faint and diffused at first, silk mesh across the inkwell, blue ice to white heat
to saffron fire.
The Existentialist notices the heat first - the Narcissist his discomfort - as the mercury climbs. First boundary gone as the bubble contorts and dissolves as the sheet of fire grows beyond imagination.
Fear bursts the next boundary unconsciously, as they embrace in the face of the known-unknown. Narcissist's wings blaze around the Existentialist, and for one glorious, naked moment before conflagration, the final boundaries are transcended, four eyes become two eyes; and I-I swallows the sun whole.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Good Night Chuck
Sharp black eyes, quick hands
Taut spring
Fueled.
Instinct drawn into your fingers, voice, and loins
Currented through me
Shes;
Us.
Electric black center
Bolt of colour; careless focus - or a zen cut
Tears - or laughter
Rainbow splayed tannery
Many costumes cut through the years
Until
No color left
Fabric tattered and diffused into emptiness
May you rest now,
Peace
Taut spring
Fueled.
Instinct drawn into your fingers, voice, and loins
Currented through me
Shes;
Us.
Electric black center
Bolt of colour; careless focus - or a zen cut
Tears - or laughter
Rainbow splayed tannery
Many costumes cut through the years
Until
No color left
Fabric tattered and diffused into emptiness
May you rest now,
Peace
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
1-800-Healthcare Mismanagement, Can I Help You?
This just in kids.
Local hospital downtime for their pharmacy module. This would be the system that manages all the pharmacological needs of the hospital. 400 beds, so not huge but not small either. Downtime started at 1:30 this afternoon. It went on for at least 2 hours, it could still be going on...anyways, here's the deal.
That organization canceled a project that was weeks away from completing delivery of a replacement Pharmacy system.
Now, I could get into the malignant financials that they screw around, er, manage with - like using capital project funds to prop up chronically under-funded operational areas - but I think it enough to point out that the reported cost of prematurely shutting down the replacement project cost about the same amount as completing it.
You know, so that they would have stable pharmacy system, that wouldn't go out, say, the day after remembrance day.
Local hospital downtime for their pharmacy module. This would be the system that manages all the pharmacological needs of the hospital. 400 beds, so not huge but not small either. Downtime started at 1:30 this afternoon. It went on for at least 2 hours, it could still be going on...anyways, here's the deal.
That organization canceled a project that was weeks away from completing delivery of a replacement Pharmacy system.
Now, I could get into the malignant financials that they screw around, er, manage with - like using capital project funds to prop up chronically under-funded operational areas - but I think it enough to point out that the reported cost of prematurely shutting down the replacement project cost about the same amount as completing it.
You know, so that they would have stable pharmacy system, that wouldn't go out, say, the day after remembrance day.
No, you get off of MY property taxes
So, whats I do when I have intellectual or political curiosities or questions that need fresh insight - or a first attack at an answer period - whats I do is go to Dbm and put it on the table for him, see what he thinks.
This was from the other night. He gave the start of the answer, but we got interrupted and couldn't finish.
Problem statement:
Our local head of government here dallied with some policy changes that had hard impacts on a sizeable chunk of people. It was a right-of-center, four-years-in-the-making plan, and this was year one or two. Had been tried in a neighboring province with great success. Idea was that there would be short term gain, then dividends a couple of years out that would lead into a second term of surpluses and successes. To wit, the plan worked as they hoped it would. But that's all context.
The question I raised was apparently a simple poli-sci one: The head of government had protesters on his personal home property, protesting. Didn't turn violent, but their rationale was if he was taking actions on a political level that affected them on a personal, livelihood level, that the layers shouldn't be insulated, and that it was reasonable to take their complaints back to him on a personal level.
In short, before we got interrupted, Dbm made it quite clear that this was not acceptable. I need to followup with him to find out why.
This was from the other night. He gave the start of the answer, but we got interrupted and couldn't finish.
Problem statement:
Our local head of government here dallied with some policy changes that had hard impacts on a sizeable chunk of people. It was a right-of-center, four-years-in-the-making plan, and this was year one or two. Had been tried in a neighboring province with great success. Idea was that there would be short term gain, then dividends a couple of years out that would lead into a second term of surpluses and successes. To wit, the plan worked as they hoped it would. But that's all context.
The question I raised was apparently a simple poli-sci one: The head of government had protesters on his personal home property, protesting. Didn't turn violent, but their rationale was if he was taking actions on a political level that affected them on a personal, livelihood level, that the layers shouldn't be insulated, and that it was reasonable to take their complaints back to him on a personal level.
In short, before we got interrupted, Dbm made it quite clear that this was not acceptable. I need to followup with him to find out why.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Laughter and Limbaugh
There are a number of ways to take extremists, in this case blowhard extremists that talk in absolutes by conduct their lives in relativities like the rest of us.
One is to get exasperated, holier than thou, damn angry that they could say those kinds of thing about (insert sensitive subject here). Time to write to the editor, mount a protest, construct well thought out diatribes to counter their polemicist vitriol.
Another is to rationalize it, and accept in any number of frameworks that can neuter its passionate flare. Look at it from a psychological point of view, understand why the standard of Broadcast Excellence is acting the way he is acting, and with a studied detachment, just let it be.
Or spiritualize it. Realize that that everything is needed in this great Spiral of Development. Rush is at a certain post-modern stage, and he has to go through this, as do his ditto-heads, in order to get to a higher level of development.
The problem with these avenues is that they always leave me feeling like Rush has gotten the last laugh. You know, a little tension in the shoulders at the thought of the guy. And, if he's still irritating me, then the observation is valid.
A much more effective approach is to not take him seriously, not in the least. Laughing. Not with him, but at the absurdities of his whole schtick.
Not trying to argue with him on his subject matter - it can and is deconstructed by any number of gifted intellectuals. No, just doing the deadpan and asking him the questions that would get him going, and you laughing inside.
Rushter: "Feminazis are the bane of ..."
Response:
"Rushster, most people that use words like feminazis are really shying away from inner same-sex urges. I'd like to give you the chance to respond, but I really need to hump your leg".
You get the gist of it.
Untenable frameworks that cannot be won by intellectual grappling can easily be toppled - or, better yet, just made irrelevant - by replacing the original timbers with the absurd and seeing how the original architect manages.
One is to get exasperated, holier than thou, damn angry that they could say those kinds of thing about (insert sensitive subject here). Time to write to the editor, mount a protest, construct well thought out diatribes to counter their polemicist vitriol.
Another is to rationalize it, and accept in any number of frameworks that can neuter its passionate flare. Look at it from a psychological point of view, understand why the standard of Broadcast Excellence is acting the way he is acting, and with a studied detachment, just let it be.
Or spiritualize it. Realize that that everything is needed in this great Spiral of Development. Rush is at a certain post-modern stage, and he has to go through this, as do his ditto-heads, in order to get to a higher level of development.
The problem with these avenues is that they always leave me feeling like Rush has gotten the last laugh. You know, a little tension in the shoulders at the thought of the guy. And, if he's still irritating me, then the observation is valid.
A much more effective approach is to not take him seriously, not in the least. Laughing. Not with him, but at the absurdities of his whole schtick.
Not trying to argue with him on his subject matter - it can and is deconstructed by any number of gifted intellectuals. No, just doing the deadpan and asking him the questions that would get him going, and you laughing inside.
Rushter: "Feminazis are the bane of ..."
Response:
"Rushster, most people that use words like feminazis are really shying away from inner same-sex urges. I'd like to give you the chance to respond, but I really need to hump your leg".
You get the gist of it.
Untenable frameworks that cannot be won by intellectual grappling can easily be toppled - or, better yet, just made irrelevant - by replacing the original timbers with the absurd and seeing how the original architect manages.
A wrinkle, a sign
I don't get fashion.
Truly.
Let's depart from the obvious, if you know me, you know, by saying "of course you don't get fashion, look at what you're wearing"
I get it that my children literally have more fashion sense than I; that I have to ask for help in the morning "can I wear black and blue together?"... So let's put all that under the bridge. I want to deconstruct a little deeper here, and for that, we need a wrinkle. Actually, several wrinkles. And not stale wrinkles, but fresh ones. Lost yet? Welcome to my world.
So here's the deal.
I went out two weekends ago, under duress, with my family, with the intention of sourcing some new clothes out for my new gig. Duress was my thing, not theirs. Shopping (unless it's for gadgets or books) for me involves picturing what you want, and going and buying it as quickly as possible. More so for clothes. So I get more and more uptight with the exercise, in apparent contradistinction from my patient wife and exuberant sires, all three of whom are quite pleased to pick out things that would look nice on Dad.
Fast forward, 7 or 8 pairs of pants later, and we have decided on a pair of 'fine cotton' Jones of New York casual black business pants. On for about half price - $65 - and they fit and look nice (this from opinions not under the heavy shadow of my fashion misperceptions.)
So I bring them home, iron them, and wear them to work, somewhat chagrined that by the time I get to work via the train and a .5 km walk, they're wrinkled. Ironing is time consuming, and finicky work, which I do actually enjoy at times, but this joy is quickly lost if the iron-ees don't keep well.
I go back to my patient spouse, and engage in a variant of conversations we've had before about fashion.
"So, Dbuiz, nice pants but they're wrinkled well before the end of the day - by the time I get to work actually"
"That's fine - good cotton will do that"
"Wrinkle?"
"That's right"
"So it's ok to walk around work with wrinkles in my pants? I thought that was the whole point of ironing before I wore them"
"Well, those are fresh wrinkles - they're fine. It's old wrinkles that look awful."
"Honestly?"
"Honestly".
So.
You pay more money for a nicer fabric - a lighter, more comfortable cotton. And these pants have that. But ultimately you are paying more money for something that will wrinkle faster than a no-iron cheaper blend, but this is ok as long as you make sure the wrinkles are fresh, not stale.
Another day, another post - or maybe I'll find a legacy post - about some other fashion issues I have, but for now, I'll just file this under general doey-eyed confusion about the wearing of tailored fabrics.
Truly.
Let's depart from the obvious, if you know me, you know, by saying "of course you don't get fashion, look at what you're wearing"
I get it that my children literally have more fashion sense than I; that I have to ask for help in the morning "can I wear black and blue together?"... So let's put all that under the bridge. I want to deconstruct a little deeper here, and for that, we need a wrinkle. Actually, several wrinkles. And not stale wrinkles, but fresh ones. Lost yet? Welcome to my world.
So here's the deal.
I went out two weekends ago, under duress, with my family, with the intention of sourcing some new clothes out for my new gig. Duress was my thing, not theirs. Shopping (unless it's for gadgets or books) for me involves picturing what you want, and going and buying it as quickly as possible. More so for clothes. So I get more and more uptight with the exercise, in apparent contradistinction from my patient wife and exuberant sires, all three of whom are quite pleased to pick out things that would look nice on Dad.
Fast forward, 7 or 8 pairs of pants later, and we have decided on a pair of 'fine cotton' Jones of New York casual black business pants. On for about half price - $65 - and they fit and look nice (this from opinions not under the heavy shadow of my fashion misperceptions.)
So I bring them home, iron them, and wear them to work, somewhat chagrined that by the time I get to work via the train and a .5 km walk, they're wrinkled. Ironing is time consuming, and finicky work, which I do actually enjoy at times, but this joy is quickly lost if the iron-ees don't keep well.
I go back to my patient spouse, and engage in a variant of conversations we've had before about fashion.
"So, Dbuiz, nice pants but they're wrinkled well before the end of the day - by the time I get to work actually"
"That's fine - good cotton will do that"
"Wrinkle?"
"That's right"
"So it's ok to walk around work with wrinkles in my pants? I thought that was the whole point of ironing before I wore them"
"Well, those are fresh wrinkles - they're fine. It's old wrinkles that look awful."
"Honestly?"
"Honestly".
So.
You pay more money for a nicer fabric - a lighter, more comfortable cotton. And these pants have that. But ultimately you are paying more money for something that will wrinkle faster than a no-iron cheaper blend, but this is ok as long as you make sure the wrinkles are fresh, not stale.
Another day, another post - or maybe I'll find a legacy post - about some other fashion issues I have, but for now, I'll just file this under general doey-eyed confusion about the wearing of tailored fabrics.
Sallow, what the hell is sallow
I checked, and apparently I used it correctly in yesterday's offering. Adjective in this case, "murky yellow or gray". Interesting agreement between words and I. They'll often pop up, no conscious effort, and insert themselves on the page. More of a feeling that I have associated with the word as opposed to the meaning, but when I check the meaning, it's always right. Or at least not catastrophically wrong.
Nice gift, thanks god.
Nice gift, thanks god.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Choking on this
Sadness, a bird
Caught in the throat and struggling for release
Then crushed in sallow passion
No heart here, just the offspring
Moving towards the cavity that should embrace
Proffer, dance and heal
No stomach here, just a slow descent
Without detachment
Malignancy, waiting in disbelief for the dawn
Caught in the throat and struggling for release
Then crushed in sallow passion
No heart here, just the offspring
Moving towards the cavity that should embrace
Proffer, dance and heal
No stomach here, just a slow descent
Without detachment
Malignancy, waiting in disbelief for the dawn
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Waiter, there's a growth in my free market
Fishing through old blog-land again, this was worth pulling out and taking for a spin.
====================
Friday, January 23, 2004 Growth in the New Culture
Careful young workers, come heed to my call
The culture they tout is not culture at all
It extends from G-L, it's a tool of the board
When you see it's really quite apalling
So act from your Center and respect HOW you do
For your job, it could be waning
Sorry Mr. Zimmerman.
i
A little idvomit to open up today's diatribe.
Having supported myself for almost 20 years now, and having been introduced to znet and chomsky, you would think I would know better, but I do in fact sometimes still get sucked in.
To be fair, you can't help it to some extent. You start work at a new company, and are treated well - REALLY well. This is the new environment, the new culture, the NEW new culture. One-dimensional business psychology resources flow out of today's company's like emetic remains, and a lot of it sounds convincing. You are empowered, leveraged, synergized. You should hit the ground running, win every moment of truth, realize that your worth is CARED about not because the Company has too but because it has chosen to. You and the company are partners in success, the master-servant rule doesn't exist here. You are a Team Member, an Associate, a Partner. You matter. And because you matter the company matters to you. And the feedback loop continues and powers the new new NEW economy, everybody is satisfied, and everybody wins cause there's lots of money made.
or.
Said growth in the new culture is REALLY growth in the new culture. The germy kind. Sycophantic cells feeding off the gullible.
The easiest way to stay away from too much cynicism is to be realistic from the start.
We live in a flawed democracy fueled by a sometimes-free-market system. It's flawed, but it's arguably the best of several flawed alternatives.
Company's exist to thrive in the sfm system, to give lifeblood to the infrastructures that hold up our democracies. So in the big picture, even the lowliest jobs hold up something worth having. But careful, young buck. Remember, the corporation raison d'etre is not, by nature, to be altruistic. It is to grow and make money.
So if new culture is useful as a tool to promote this ultimate goal, great stuff. But remember, doey-eyed worker - it is just that - a tool.
The company is not beholden to you - no matter how sincere the talk is. Shiny brochures and feel good sessions aside, it's still about profit and loss.
So do what you're doing for the right reason. Realize that your goals are not by definition the company's goals. And that's ok.
My value-realignment recently takes this into account. I now get value out of HOW I do things as opposed to WHAT I do.
It matters not if I am the world's best , it matters that I honestly earn a wage to support myself and loved ones. And it matters HOW I do my work.
====================
Friday, January 23, 2004 Growth in the New Culture
Careful young workers, come heed to my call
The culture they tout is not culture at all
It extends from G-L, it's a tool of the board
When you see it's really quite apalling
So act from your Center and respect HOW you do
For your job, it could be waning
Sorry Mr. Zimmerman.
i
A little idvomit to open up today's diatribe.
Having supported myself for almost 20 years now, and having been introduced to znet and chomsky, you would think I would know better, but I do in fact sometimes still get sucked in.
To be fair, you can't help it to some extent. You start work at a new company, and are treated well - REALLY well. This is the new environment, the new culture, the NEW new culture. One-dimensional business psychology resources flow out of today's company's like emetic remains, and a lot of it sounds convincing. You are empowered, leveraged, synergized. You should hit the ground running, win every moment of truth, realize that your worth is CARED about not because the Company has too but because it has chosen to. You and the company are partners in success, the master-servant rule doesn't exist here. You are a Team Member, an Associate, a Partner. You matter. And because you matter the company matters to you. And the feedback loop continues and powers the new new NEW economy, everybody is satisfied, and everybody wins cause there's lots of money made.
or.
Said growth in the new culture is REALLY growth in the new culture. The germy kind. Sycophantic cells feeding off the gullible.
The easiest way to stay away from too much cynicism is to be realistic from the start.
We live in a flawed democracy fueled by a sometimes-free-market system. It's flawed, but it's arguably the best of several flawed alternatives.
Company's exist to thrive in the sfm system, to give lifeblood to the infrastructures that hold up our democracies. So in the big picture, even the lowliest jobs hold up something worth having. But careful, young buck. Remember, the corporation raison d'etre is not, by nature, to be altruistic. It is to grow and make money.
So if new culture is useful as a tool to promote this ultimate goal, great stuff. But remember, doey-eyed worker - it is just that - a tool.
The company is not beholden to you - no matter how sincere the talk is. Shiny brochures and feel good sessions aside, it's still about profit and loss.
So do what you're doing for the right reason. Realize that your goals are not by definition the company's goals. And that's ok.
My value-realignment recently takes this into account. I now get value out of HOW I do things as opposed to WHAT I do.
It matters not if I am the world's best , it matters that I honestly earn a wage to support myself and loved ones. And it matters HOW I do my work.
Left Wing Heart, Right wing head (2004)
This, from a retired blog'o'mine, circa 2004.
I think it got read by, let's see - zero people.
==================================
Left Wing Heart, Right wing head
The blessed CBC (damn those, including myself, for putting down Canadian production values; witness the 5th estate, this hour has 22 minutes, air farce, venture) had a great piece on unions last nite. Disclaimer: I've been in, let's see, UFCW, and the CMSG. That would make two. Two in which I saw:
-no point in paying union dues - both ultimately provided no job security
-those WITH work ethics stifled; promotions had to go to those most senior, not those most capable
-those WITHOUT work ethics summarily rewarded through a system that encouraged clock-watching, slowing-for-ot, and generally having expectations of "I'm OWED this, I'm WORTH twenty dollars an hour when I'm baking and bagging frozen bread."
Personal disenchantment aside though, I'm also painfully aware of the astonishing corporate greed that exists out there. Witness the documentary the Corporation, read ZNet, Chomsky, etc. etc.
So how do I reconcile my abhorrence of protected personal recklessness that the union provides, with the fact that the union is one of the last stands against unbridled greed and corporate hegemony?
Maybe by recognizing that this is one of those lesser of two evil things - that the excesses tolerated by unions pale in comparison to those tolerated on a global scale by unchecked and increasingly powerful corporate entitites.
I think it got read by, let's see - zero people.
==================================
Left Wing Heart, Right wing head
The blessed CBC (damn those, including myself, for putting down Canadian production values; witness the 5th estate, this hour has 22 minutes, air farce, venture) had a great piece on unions last nite. Disclaimer: I've been in, let's see, UFCW, and the CMSG. That would make two. Two in which I saw:
-no point in paying union dues - both ultimately provided no job security
-those WITH work ethics stifled; promotions had to go to those most senior, not those most capable
-those WITHOUT work ethics summarily rewarded through a system that encouraged clock-watching, slowing-for-ot, and generally having expectations of "I'm OWED this, I'm WORTH twenty dollars an hour when I'm baking and bagging frozen bread."
Personal disenchantment aside though, I'm also painfully aware of the astonishing corporate greed that exists out there. Witness the documentary the Corporation, read ZNet, Chomsky, etc. etc.
So how do I reconcile my abhorrence of protected personal recklessness that the union provides, with the fact that the union is one of the last stands against unbridled greed and corporate hegemony?
Maybe by recognizing that this is one of those lesser of two evil things - that the excesses tolerated by unions pale in comparison to those tolerated on a global scale by unchecked and increasingly powerful corporate entitites.
Sorry, Mr. Simon
And truly I am. This is from 87, still adore the song, I think it just reeks...life. I was at Cap College, taking voice with Shannon Gunn, and a band was gots-together to put down the bed tracks. Yes, I have some tuning problems. The production is better than some of the other stuff, but still compromised by sitting for 20 years on a cassette tape waiting, ney begging to be released to digital, where it can feed the noosphere.
african skies processed.mp3
Production woes
I have no idea what's going on with the production on the stuff that I've posted. Listened to it at home, no worries, listened to it at work twice and it streamed like a vacillating serpent of shit.
I'm leaving them up for now.
I'm leaving them up for now.
Monday, November 3, 2008
That sounds amazingly bad, doesn't it?
Well kids, several of those posts sound beyond atrocious. I'll be taking them down and re'mastering' soon.
Sheeeit
Sheeeit
Sunday, November 2, 2008
I Wonder
Well, yes hoss, I did wonder. You know what I'm talking about. At one point in your life you become close to someone. At another, they leave. But those with who the friendship super-glue was cured never wander far, and when you pick up with them it's like they never left in the first place. And knowing friendship, having some of those nonlocal qualities to begin with, it's less 'like' and more 'actually'.
What Can I Offer
I get inklings, but to be honest often it's a hazy toothy serpent winding it's way through my life.
Picked it up from a number of places that a good attribute of something that you were born to do is the fact that it turns into a timeless activity when you do it.
Now, time has often been a painful thing for me - that's grist for another post, so without too much upfront analysis the pickup would seem to be fair.
And where do I get that? Is there anything that truly turns into a timeless endeavour when I'm doing it?
Well, yeah kinda. Songwriting. Seconds, minutes, hours, half days literally vanish. No tiredness, a direct plug into the noosphere. Creativity is unbridled in this activity. I don't have to try, a few notes on the keyboard, the vision is there, and the lyrics roll out.
Interesting.
Picked it up from a number of places that a good attribute of something that you were born to do is the fact that it turns into a timeless activity when you do it.
Now, time has often been a painful thing for me - that's grist for another post, so without too much upfront analysis the pickup would seem to be fair.
And where do I get that? Is there anything that truly turns into a timeless endeavour when I'm doing it?
Well, yeah kinda. Songwriting. Seconds, minutes, hours, half days literally vanish. No tiredness, a direct plug into the noosphere. Creativity is unbridled in this activity. I don't have to try, a few notes on the keyboard, the vision is there, and the lyrics roll out.
Interesting.
The Gaping Maw of Hungry Ghosts
Yep, the history behind this one almost ate me alive. Sometimes it still burps a bit. Great Buddhist visual that was passed onto me via Genpo Roshi of a hungry ghost with a permanently distended belly, a mouth too small to get enough in, and the whole thing powered by desire.
Not talking just the one dimensional desire in this song, but a longing so visceral it cuts.
Wrote this hristmas Theme for Grandma, Ruth, and Doris. Rest in peace, dear ones.
Christmas Theme for Grandma Ruth Doris.mp3
The Sponge of Self Discovery
But Mez, do you have a song of self discovery, written with nothing but your ability, a Korg M3R, a Yamaha PF85 and your voice? That doesn't sound like some of the other's you've posted here with lyrics struggling to get out of the mucky production values?
By gods yes, here you go:
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Sorry for the Bottom Dwellers
Ok, if you were brave enough to listen, especially streaming over computer speakers, you might very well have gotten pissed at the mud-production. Me thinks it's worth listening to, so try downloading it (you'll get the lyrics that way too) or plugging in a pair of headphones. Production improves a wee bit around the last 30 seconds where I added some post-post-post chorus via a .wav editing tool.
You are?
Yes, I am. I'm here.
And using history and a good predictor of future behaviour, might as well follow my short-lived bliss and get more stuff up. Gods bless Google for keeping my other blogs around for a couple of years now. Maybe I can ply them for more copy in about [insert 2-12 weeks random number] weeks when I start to follow my inevitable bell curve down, down, down to mediocrity and hapless wandering and wondering.
But until then, I'm Here
You don't need liner notes for this one in terms of meaning, but it is worth noting that I did take this song into a studio (not this version, another one which may or may not ever make it here) and recorded it au proper with a real bass player, drummer, and production quality. Still, there's something about the honesty in this one. Bare with the muddy production and try to enjoy it.
The trivia on this one is that I wrote most of the whole thing during a shift as a tour guide on board the huff-puffering 2860. Hung out for lengths of the shift with George - # 2 in seniority on BCR before it was sold - in the conductor's car, full open side, and a big rail to lean on as we watched Howe Sound go by. As memory serves, the music was pretty much complete in my head o'er the trip, and the words didn't take too much longer.
And using history and a good predictor of future behaviour, might as well follow my short-lived bliss and get more stuff up. Gods bless Google for keeping my other blogs around for a couple of years now. Maybe I can ply them for more copy in about [insert 2-12 weeks random number] weeks when I start to follow my inevitable bell curve down, down, down to mediocrity and hapless wandering and wondering.
But until then, I'm Here
You don't need liner notes for this one in terms of meaning, but it is worth noting that I did take this song into a studio (not this version, another one which may or may not ever make it here) and recorded it au proper with a real bass player, drummer, and production quality. Still, there's something about the honesty in this one. Bare with the muddy production and try to enjoy it.
The trivia on this one is that I wrote most of the whole thing during a shift as a tour guide on board the huff-puffering 2860. Hung out for lengths of the shift with George - # 2 in seniority on BCR before it was sold - in the conductor's car, full open side, and a big rail to lean on as we watched Howe Sound go by. As memory serves, the music was pretty much complete in my head o'er the trip, and the words didn't take too much longer.
Leader and the Fool
What the hell were you songing about in that one, anyway, Mez?
Years ago - about 20, I worked at a company for a boss who had a lot of things going for him - chiseled good looks and muscular physique, intellectually gifted, lady-killer, financially successful. Also, I felt, astonishingly lonely. So plug that into the song, and it should make sense.
Years ago - about 20, I worked at a company for a boss who had a lot of things going for him - chiseled good looks and muscular physique, intellectually gifted, lady-killer, financially successful. Also, I felt, astonishingly lonely. So plug that into the song, and it should make sense.
Repositorium
When the serotonin is right, slick and viscous psychic surfground, I go back and look at things I've done. Things I've accomplished.
One of those is music, a force that defined and pursued me for the first 30 or so. Started pulling out the cassettes a couple of nights ago. Holy shit, 20 years old - some a little more, some a little less.
Yup, the production is shite*. The musicianship ranges from nice to groundbreakingly sacharine or plain sloppy.
And yup, I stand behind it. Would have liked to have seen what could have happened to this stuff with better production, more self esteem, starting piano earlier than y20. So let's start chucking this up to the noosphere. Forward ho, gamey songster!
*Four track Yamaha with a six channel mixer. Literally used casette tapes, a special metallic tape let the machine recognize it as media and split it into four tracks. So I'd record click track, then drum's triggered from a keyboard, similarly bass, then bounce down, add vox, bounce down, then the lead. And the four track had a storied history of ghosting tracks. Which meant for a lot of the stuff I did, I had one chance to get it right or live with faint out of tune mischief musical sprites splayed under the song.
The Leader and the Fool
One of those is music, a force that defined and pursued me for the first 30 or so. Started pulling out the cassettes a couple of nights ago. Holy shit, 20 years old - some a little more, some a little less.
Yup, the production is shite*. The musicianship ranges from nice to groundbreakingly sacharine or plain sloppy.
And yup, I stand behind it. Would have liked to have seen what could have happened to this stuff with better production, more self esteem, starting piano earlier than y20. So let's start chucking this up to the noosphere. Forward ho, gamey songster!
*Four track Yamaha with a six channel mixer. Literally used casette tapes, a special metallic tape let the machine recognize it as media and split it into four tracks. So I'd record click track, then drum's triggered from a keyboard, similarly bass, then bounce down, add vox, bounce down, then the lead. And the four track had a storied history of ghosting tracks. Which meant for a lot of the stuff I did, I had one chance to get it right or live with faint out of tune mischief musical sprites splayed under the song.
The Leader and the Fool
Feed me Seymour
Is the cloud the noosphere? Or the start of the noosphere? Certainly seems a possibility.
So let's leave some breadcrumbs where I can come back and find myself, during this life or the next.
Let's muse, and paint, and write and play, laugh and furrow our brow.
So let's leave some breadcrumbs where I can come back and find myself, during this life or the next.
Let's muse, and paint, and write and play, laugh and furrow our brow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)