Title and Registration

High up, originally uploaded by copeseticnature.

The glove compartment isn't accurately named
And everybody knows it.
So i'm proposing a swift orderly change.

Cause behind its door there's nothing to keep my fingers warm
And all i find are souvenirs from better times
Before the gleam of your taillights fading east
To find yourself a better life.

I was searching for some legal document
As the rain beat down on the hood
When i stumbled upon pictures i tried to forget
And that's how this idea was drilled into my head

Cause it's too important
To stay the way it's been

There's no blame for how our love did slowly fade
And now that it's gone it's like it wasn't there at all
And here i rest where disappointment and regret collide
Lying awake at night

There's no blame for how our love did slowly fade
And now that it's gone it's like it wasn't there at all
And here i rest where disappointment and regret collide
Lying awake at night (up all night)
When i'm lying awake at night.

Cat Power

Victoria Cinema, originally uploaded by copeseticnature.

When I’m drivin’ in my car,
And the man come on the radio,
He’s tellin’ me more and more,
About some useless information,
Tryin’ mess with my imagination.

When I’m watchin’ my TV,
When a man comes on to tell me,
How white my shirt’s can be,
But, he can’t be a man cause he doesn’t smoke
The same cigarettes as me

When I’m riding around the globe,
And I’m doin’ this and I’m signin’ that
And I’m trying to make some boy
Baby, baby, baby come back
‘Cause you see, I’m on a losing streak
When I’m ridin’ around the glove
And I’m doin’ this and I’m signin’ that
And I’m tryin’
And I’m tryin’

It's just a rant, don't worry...

And this is my world, your world, the world now, tomorrow, and forever, until it’s no longer bearable. I am asleep most days, even if I am awake, I am in a different state of mind. My mind is hazy, out of focus and can only be awoken when something visually pungent comes my way.

I am a born soldier with a work ethic built on the blood, loss, and natural selection of my East Coast ancestors. They were the pioneers, dropped off on the shores of Newfoundland to die, malnourished, cold, without food or shelter, to be the work horses, slaves, of England. My blood is fueled by their loss, by their strength, and I am nothing less than what they are. I am strong because of it and their voices echo in my veins. They were the ones who I look to proudly to, and I thank everyday with the zeal that most have lost in their own family trees. I am not blind to what was sacrificed for me.

I am stark raving mad. I laugh in the face of stupidity. I carry my ego wisely, and never! will I let people know how much I think, for then, I will never be able to taken them for the fools they are. You want redemption, it’s too late. All hope is loss and you are spiraling towards an even greater problem: repentance, for you will need it soon. Don’t look to me guidance, for I am, and will be, the greatest hypocrite that has ever lived. I will go down in history in a state of utter contradiction.

Now, stuck in this mindless world, struggle with new technologies, more absurd and artificially created foods, polluted oceans and atmosphere; I am but a struggling pioneer once again. Where are the days of old? Where is the age of innocence? We are but a species that is more lost then ever, never mind the dark ages of Europe, the collapse of the Roman Empire, never mind the forging of mankind, it’s the here and now that is most volatile. We say it’s an easy time to live, but I don’t see it that way.

In this volatility I do nothing but watch the hoards. Those parasites who are stomping though their lives and missing the larger points. The consumers will always be consuming, and without any foresight, they will die with a mass of nothingness. They will die and pass it on to the next poor victim who will consider it a blessing.

Lets rape the land together. Lets form clubs where we can go out to the ocean fronts to dump our chemicals and finish of the ritual with a large bowel movement. It’s better to see it directly rather then mask the problem. I will be first to help out. To show the masses their foulness. I want to salt the earths and cut down random trees, burn them, still alive and dripping with sap. Why not? They will only be plundered anyway. Why do we use so much paper? Why do we live in a word that wastes?

Lets feast on tainted meat, chickens caged by the dozens who know nothing but disease. Shall we eat fish filled with mercury, regardless of the health warnings? I wonder how many birth deflects will come forward this century. I want to see it all. I want to see you affected, beg for your sins my friends, for you are to blame.

As the population grows so does our need for even more sea life, more farms, greater numbers of organisms that produce meats. I wonder how the next fifty years will treat our food reserves. Already East Indian and China are over a billions worth, who is next? Will we keep growing? Right now the only sure fire way of minimizing population is wide scale war, or start dropping the nukes. I know, in our resource rich Country, they will move out of need soon, morals will not come into play, it’s going to be a free for all when life is challenged.

-----------------------------------

I am a free thinking mammal with nothing to contemplate. I am a smoker who smokes too much. A lover who is loveless. I am immortal and will die. I am your worst nightmare and best friend. I am…just a man, disgruntled, scared, depressed, anxious, happy, fearful, and I don’t trust you, I don’t trust the government and I want out.

I think Sweden would be nice. Maybe I could learn the language, ski all day long, eat their horrible foods and hope not to get paddled. I don’t want to be the neighbor to the most horrendous state ever created. I could even dye whatever is left of my hair a blond color to fit it. I don’t want to be regarded as a foreigner…that guy from Canada. I am Swedish now, treat me as your brethren. I love meatballs and Ikea, although I haven’t shopped there; I think Ikea is getting worse as the years go by, but at least they take their raw products and form industries rather then ship all of their raw materials out of country, to do what? Lose even more of our economy. Gain fair, handshakes?

So if I resist, will I be noticed? Will it be meaningless, maybe taken on film by some Japanese tourist? Will it be on the papers controlled by the liberal governments? Will I be forgotten like everything else?

I want to start a protest, I don’t even care what it’s about, I just want one, and it should be memorable, historical, significant, with children, parents, gays, blacks, Chinese, I want all cultures, all sub-cultures, even animals, and I want it to strip us of all needs and wants. I want a unified struggle to change something…anything. I want to breath again. I’m not breathing - I’m dying here. It’s boring and I hate you all.

Zee crazy Germans

My neighbor is a crazy ass, German bitch. I’m thinking about where to began, or how to even word this, so please, bear with me.

I think it all started the week I moved in. I parked my U-haul out in front of both of our houses and she comes running out. “You can’t park there, it’s my spot!” Which is fine, I turn to her and ask her if I should move. I explain that the truck will only be parked for about twenty minutes and I’ll be out of your way. She tells me its ok, only because she likes my roommate Paul. “Paul’s a good boy”.

The next incident is a little more off the wall. A few of the pickets on her white fence are old and deteriorated. I head home one day to find her picking at them, staring, musing over it. When she sees me she points out that my landlord has destroyed her fence.

“He did it, I know he did”, speaking to me as if I even cared. “He doesn’t want to mess with me; I’ll phone the city counsel and take him down”.

“Yeah, you do that”, I respond and walk by, as she is still talking to me. It was a long day and I’m starting to see what type of person she is.

Before Ryan – also known as dirty, straight dude - moved out, he was changing in one of the bedrooms. The blinds were taken down because of the move, and half of the window is frosted glass. I awake about eight thirty in the morning to overhear the conversation.

“I can see it”, in a high pitched, German accent. "I can see you naked".

“Oh, Hi Mary,” Ryan replies. He just got out of the shower and was removing his towel only to find Mary staring right at him. The conversation pursues but I am now thinking forward in time to the next night. It’s eleven or twelve at night, my curtain isn’t put up yet, and Mary is flicking lights on and off, waving to me, through her window. I am shirtless and couldn’t give two fucks.

“Paul, this bitch is crazy”, I tell him over dinner one night. “She is spying on me through her windows late at night”. Its absolute insane and he acknowledges this.

Yesterday, the icing on the cake, there is a great deal of rain in Victoria. Our backyard is starting to collect a lot of water and the landlord comes in with a sub-pump. While I’m at work Paul logs in to tell me that Mary is going crazy. She is yelling at our landlord Cam and is causing a lot of trouble. This is about nine in the morning…

I arrive home at five to find Mary still yelling. She is screaming at cam, her shrill voice is yelling “I don’t care, get off my property!” Cam himself is defending himself and telling her that it’s not her property; he is on his own piece of land.

I head into the house only to hear her screaming, with broom in hand, for another twenty minutes until the pump is shut off. “Get off my land!” “Get off my property!” “This is not your land, get off”.

“You’re nuts Mary,” Cam replies. “You need help,” as he fends off her attacks. He’s a part of the city working core, he’s here to stop the flooding. He is a kind, sexy, football player looking kind of dude.

“I’m not nuts, you’re nuts. You get off my land”, Mary screams. Her voice is echoing the neighborhood, and at this point in time, I want to gas her and bury her in my backyard.

Cam knocks on my door to apologize. He explains that he has to phone the police because a) Mary took a swing at him and made contact and b) she pushed his father, who is in his sixties.

The whole time I am shocked and can still here Mary in the background. Mary makes me realize that this isn't the East Coast anymore. Crazy East Coast ladies would take up all your time in conversation and follow you around the yard; I'm thinking so much for neighborly love.

The funny thing is, water is running into her property also, but she doesn’t care. Cam tells me she blames the house for the death of her husband; the house is blamed for everything that had done her wrong in her life. She wants to burn it to the ground, my friend Paul tells me. I’m thinking I need insurance.

This morning I hear Mary talking to my downstairs neighbor. “You should apologize for what you put me through”, in her now insane, annoying, calculated, and dreadful German accent.

“Mary, I live here too,” she relies. She actually sounds human today, sporting a spine and the courage of her convictions.

“I live here!, Mary replies sharply. “I live here too…”

I believe in you Lord!

It has been raining for about a week straight now. The sky is clean and full of clouds, vehicles drive by more slowly with all the summers dirt drained off. I’m getting that claustrophobic feeling again. It’s as if my body has a great deal of gravity and pressure being exerted on it. Maybe I’m overtly sensitive? This feeling comes and goes and for the next four months will be a struggle for myself. I have to be domestic again.

I just found out there is a Church of Scientology next to where I live. The building is sporting a Roman-Greco architecture – it screams of pretension – and I want to infiltrate it. I always hear about this group and am curious how different their religion is in comparison to others. Maybe I should try to track down a service, show up unannounced and see what the reaction would be.

Worst case scenario, they think I’m the prophet reborn and they start to worship me with zest. Or best case scenario, upon sneaking in, I discover they are not really human’s but instead aliens who shed off their skins when the doors of the ‘scientologium’ are closed. I still haven’t figured out how a science fiction writer such as L. Ron Hubbard could be a founder of a religious movement.

I have been rifling though all my previous religious crazes. First, my United Church, glory bestowed upon me, it was my first taste of something holy and pure. I only attended this church for funerals, weddings, and school trips, minus a brief stint in Sunday school, I do feel as if I evolved greatly as a religious being. It was a church that bestowed a great deal of pride in me when I would mention my denomination to friends.

Secondly, think about this statement: JW galore. Yes, it’s true. I have a connection to the Jehovah’s Witnesses. My mothers side, at least half of her sisters and one brother are ‘Jehovees’, and they have just recently got my grandparents. Whenever we visited our aunt Charity in Gander she would always bribe our family to make us attend a meeting with her. Now, first we would be scrutinized on our clothing, our hairstyles, even our general cleanliness, and after a promise of treats and/or pizza we were off.

Now I have met some crazy fucks in my day but this church was quite the social experiment. I’ve never seen so many wide eyed yet vacant people in my whole life. My aunt would parade me around and keep my sister and family in the background. My selling feature was the fact that I was young and very knowledgeable about the bible. One might say I was even interested in it.

My religious knowledge went a long way in the community and when question time came about, I would put up my hand, grab the mike, and answer questions, only to hear a hall of applause afterward. I was hooked! I wanted the fame. I wanted people to approach me after a meeting and ask about me, her smart, young nephew. What can I say I was a whore for attention.

After leaving Newfoundland and heading to BC, I decided I am a man of great spirituality. I don’t need a specific religion to become closer to God. So I formed my own religion and had my own views about the world around me. I would define spirituality as taking a bike ride along the ocean and clearing my mind, or swimming laps, or…going for a hike up Mount Finlayson. To me, spirituality was being one with nature, keeping my body strong, and active. There was one thing missing though...

I was traveling on the ferry back from Vancouver; I think I was coming down from a harsh weekend of … well, let’s not go there. As much as I wanted to sleep, all I could hear was the sounds of laugher. One seat up from me were the happiest people I have ever seen in my life. It almost seemed unreal in a way. Four smiling and well-adjusted, young adults were entertaining themselves for an hour now. I had to investigate.

As groggy as I was, I asked “Excuse me, I can’t help but notice how happy you all are, not that it’s abnormal, but …. why are you so happy?”

“Well,” the younger guy, with blond hair and perfect teeth turns to me, still smiling, still radiant, “it’s simple, we’re Mormon’s”, and once again they surprise me with an uproar of happiness. I must say, I love Mormons. I met another group of them – notice they travel in groups – on a bus to Vancouver once. After my first experience, identifying the next group was easy. All I had to do was ask “Are you all Mormon?”

So my next stab at something more concrete as a religion was the Mormon faith. They gave me a bible on that bus trip and wished me the best. I was interested. I kept the bible close, looked at its thickness, watched a South Park episode on it, and realized it wasn’t for me. I mean, yeah, I could have made the effort of at least reading one page, but really, I know they won’t accept me. I’m not as…innocent as they are. I have had a much more enriched life, and I’m not sure if I could life by their rule set.

Religion is a great thing. It’s great to have some sort of omnipotent force supporting your everyday life. It’s cool to ask this unforeseen force for guidance, to use this spiritual being as a vessel to judge and blame others. It’s great…but I think I have a busy enough schedule.

Moving...

I have officially moved into my new place with my friend Paul. We are in a two bedroom character home on the main floor. I love it and I get along with Paul quite well.

There are a couple of issues right now though: one being the existing roommate. He hasn't left yet! We have two sets of furniture in the house right now and everyday when I get home a little bit more has been packed away and moved; I am slowly reclaiming the space as my own.

The second issue is our roommate’s adulterated concern for others. When I arrived home yesterday my expensive bike, which I cherish, and a large plant was moved out on to the outside deck. I was enraged and I decided to redirect all of the rage out on cleaning.

I emptied the dishwasher and proceeded to fill it again with all of Ryan's plates and glasses that he left on the countertop. He is one of those people that just leaves things around. I spent the day before cleaning up the kitchen and when I arrived yesterday it was back to the original state of disarray. This guy will never get married.

On to the bathroom...it was a mess. I don't think they ever gave the tub a good scrub or the toilet for that matter. I spend a good hour cleaning the base boards, the tub, the sink, toilet, windows and ledges; when I poured out the bucket of water it was completely black. I have never lived this way...and now that it's OUR place, I am going to set some rules up for Ryan until he moves out on Saturday.

He managed to walk all over Paul and destroy him with his uncleanliness; I will not left him do the same thing to me. Two days of living with Ryan and I already want to kill him. I had no idea how disrespectful and messy one person can be.

This morning when I woke, I came out to the kitchen, which was pristine the night before, only to find plates, an open package of sandwich meat, a knife in the sink...etc. I picked up the plastic meat package intended for the garbage and placed it next to his bedroom door. I hope he steps on it when he gets up. I have little to no patience for laziness. He is my guest now. He is now a renter.

I also took the liberty of picking up all of the things he has left around. Irons, clothing, laundry baskets and threw them on his bed and shut the door.

Paul is concerned he will get mad. To be honest, I really couldn't care less, he should be ashamed and apologetic. A healthy home is positively correlated to a healthy mind. I cannot portray myself any differently and need good Chi in my life. Ryan drained Paul and destroyed him by being the messiest person I have ever met.

My life....haha, I don't think it will ever get dull.