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† December
12, 2006 
"... You can cut the trees but don't write about it on the paper they died for. You are allowed to act like a jerk but not allowed to write about one. Well... regardless of the yellow self-censorship light of warning, this time I have to run the lights and hope that no one sideswipes me because more than likely the blame for any collision would be mine." "As for me, well... I will do my best to roll with the punches and from what I have witnessed lately I would not be at all surprised to feel the effects of more bumps along the neighborhood road in the future." Excerpts: October 31, 2006 Journal Entry entitled "Mutual Respect" It would seem I was right on both counts. I now stand accused of many things but the one which burns me the most is the one that I did not communicate my displeasure in an appropriate manner. So as usual, this is how the world works. The one intruded upon is the one blamed for not speaking up after the initial intrusion has long been perpetrated. I mean, never mind that they never said anything, I'm to blame for not voicing my displeasure directly. How indirect is never? Or what was it the Pope said in some weird roundabout apology? I am sorry what I said made you angry? Not, I'm sorry for what I said, just sorry that it made you angry. Regardless, we are now well into our fourth month of having our property utilized as a logging route and I have yet to hear a word, syllable or peep from the man responsible. But finally... after three months of having my property turned into a logging route, his wife took the time out of their busy schedule to share with me an interesting spin on the situation at hand. Following this brief introduction are correspondences I have received and sent since I got my neighbor to acknowledge their neighbors presence by publishing my story of October 31, 2006 entitled, "Mutual Respect". But before that, a few maxims which have come to mind recently while stumbling my way down the legalities of the right-of-way road. ~ "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime." "Who's calling the kettle black?" "The road to hell is paved with the best of intentions." ~ Most of us have heard those sayings and I will leave it up to you, the reader, to figure out where these maxims could apply. And although I thought I had "ceased and desisted forthwith" as advised by the lawyer long before I got his note of November 29, 2006, I now find myself defending my character as well as my property. I guess my character is fair game in a way, I did after all take some pot shots in the wind and I must of hit something. Figuratively speaking of course, have to be careful what one says when you have been accused of harassment. Published here are correspondences sent to and from petrus@petrusboots.com and as stated on each and every message sent from www.petrusboots.com since libel became an issue, Petrus Boots reserves the right to publish any and all correspondences sent to and from www.petrusboots.com be they electronic, verbal, written or other. All correspondences are complete, uncensored, unaltered in all ways but two, names of the truly and considered innocent are left blank and the relevant parties are designated as Fill in Blank. The one absolute undeniable truth here is, someone is lying. And all I know for sure is, it is not me standing here in front of you risking libel without a stitch of fear to wear. That said, I leave anyone reading this to reach their own conclusions. ~
From: Fill in Blank Dear Stefani and Petrus, I would like to request that you cease harassing my family. Your actions the last two months have been questionable and frankly out of line. I would gather that there is some discontent, within your own family, over my family choosing to log some of our woods. I can respect that you feel that we should have informed you of our intentions and that you are bothered by the logging truck; however, I do not feel that this has justified your actions in the last two months. In the two years that we have resided in our dream home we have attempted to stay away from you and your family. We have spoken to you about three times in total. We have been quiet and, in my mind respectful, of your privacy and your business. At this point I can not say the same for you. We have steadfastly refused to acknowledge your antics and harassment of our family. We said nothing when you verbally spread our business in town, we said nothing when you verbally besmirched our name in the town where my husband has resided and given back to for OVER 20 years, we said nothing when you harassed the young man who is logging for us (who by the way has two young twins and is VERY respectful of children), we said nothing about your antics with the flagged posts, the watch for children signs ect, we said nothing when you phoned the police on our family, and we said nothing to you when you POSTED our PRIVATE business on the web which were slanderous and at some points outright lies. We simply asked our lawyer to ask you to stop. We regret that the logging truck crosses your land; however, it is not OUR fault that when we purchased our land that it came with an easement over your land. This was done long before we ever purchased and I do not believe we deserve to be punished for this. Nor do I believe we need to be the brunt of your anger about not getting your dream home and gallery all on one tidy little plot. Therefore, I am writing this letter to ask you to stop your antics. My family is now starting to question your intentions toward us and our own safety. Your web musing certainly made me question your intentions toward my husband and family. I am starting to be afraid to let my son play in his own driveway, or even get to know your daughter, for fear that you may say or do something to upset him. I have personally begun to get anxious over driving out of MY OWN DRIVEWAY. The unpredictability of what you may do next is causing my family undue stress. Therefore, I am respectfully asking for you to let us live our lives privately and we in turn will extend you the same courtesy. We have no choice but to be neighbors and this is NOT going to change in any year to come, so I believe we need to just let each other live our own lives and stay away from each other. Sincerely Fill in Blank ~ Of course I had to respond, it was the first time in three months that I heard anything but a lawyers threat since the skidder was unloaded on my land blocking my way along the right-of-way road. ~
From: Petrus Boots This note turned out to be longer than I expected but I thought I would take the time to communicate seeing as you finally did the same. If you should not wish to read it that is your prerogative. Regardless of what you should choose to do, I will be forwarding this note to your lawyer accompanied with a couple of other issues which need to be resolved. A letter to your lawyer was in progress before I received your email. Dear Fill in Blank family: You said nothing when you decided to run a commercial logging operation removing the trees on fully loaded trucks with trailers across my property. My daughter is afraid, waiting at the end of my drive to catch the bus in the morning. Nothing hypothetical about it. Five, six times the logging trucks have either been coming in or going out exactly at the time the bus picks her, ______ and sometimes ______ up for school. Up to three neighbourhood children under the age of 7 affected. An easement is a special circumstance between neighbours, the former owner of your home recognised this. It requires respect from both sides. When you know your actions will have a negative effect upon the other there has to be communication but as you so pointedly said, "You said nothing." For example: When the well needed to be looked at, I went to see Sid and arranged a time and gave him the info in order to do the job. I even went so far as to dig up the end of your intake to confirm what I had suspected, that it is the main culprit in the wells contamination. I was also the one who did his best to plug the hole. The point is, I communicated before taking action, or would you rather me shock the well without telling you? I would think not. (And by the way it needs it again.) At the very least, with communication before action we could have arranged it so the school bus and logging truck times did not intersect. But now, three months down the road, it's too late, the damage to our relationship as neighbours is done. In respect to the incident with the driver, it was in relation to the fact that he was in the process of backing his truck with trailer in tow onto part 5 of Lot 32 clearly stated in the deed as not part of the easement. For the length he would have needed to accomplish the task he would have had to back up to within 20 feet of our front door. Not to mention the ruts which had already begun before I stopped him from going any further. Since that incident I have spoken to various members of the logging company and communicated to them that my argument is not with them but with Sid directly. You have nothing to fear from me or us. We have both been run through a Police Check in order to participate and help in school activities. I believe and practice non-violent passive resistance when I feel my boundaries have been crossed and violated. And if at any time I swear when I feel the effects of disrespect from others, I am sorry but I am human and a work in progress. If anything, it is Fill in Blank who is acting out erratically and with excessive violent tendencies, destroying private property in his wake. For that is what part 3 of Lot 32 is, private property. My private property. Unlike the well with it's rights and stipulations of maintenance and such, the easement on part 3 of lot 32 only states "... Subject to a right-of-way for persons and vehicles over and upon Part 3 on said Plan 45R-7504;". Right-of-way for persons and vehicles over and upon, nothing more, nothing less. I have abided fully with the easement's regulations. At no time have I ever knowingly impeded through-traffic or pedestrians (which includes Spider and logging trucks) from crossing my land as delineated and enforced through the deed description. On the other hand when Fill in Blank plows and widens the drive beyond the clearly defined and sufficiently wide driveway (enough to fit a logging truck with trailer) he is doing just that. Violating the easement agreement. Fill in Blank does not have the legal right to plough or to interpret the clearly defined driveway limitations on my land without my permission. And even this, it did not have to come to. If only you had said something. Was it not me who came to see Fill in Blank before last years snow telling him he could run the plough down the middle and that I would clean up the sides with the blower adding to the aesthetic appearance of my property and our shared drive? If you hadn't noticed I like to carve the snow with the blower leaving clean lines of driveway distinction and evenly spreading the snow for a cleaner melt in the spring. It looks good, I am an artist, my life and all I do is an expression. It is not limited to paint or pencil, I also work with snow. If I was to build snow sculptures along the edge of the drive and Fill in Blank decided the drive needed to be widened would he plough them under? I suspect so. Disregarding and disrespecting my various attempts at communicating my discontent with your actions leaves me with few options. So since you have opened this line I will communicate to you (disregarding any verbal agreements made previous), how it will be now. Fill in Blank shall under no circumstance do anything but drive or walk across part 3 of lot 32. I shall do all maintaining of the drive from the road to the road allowance as defined in the deed. At the moment I have been searching out the woods in order to find the property stakes and I have ascertained that part 3 of my property reaches from the road access to just beyond your hydro pole. There will come a time in the not to distant future when I will be placing visible stakes defining this border and the maximum width of the driveway. When they are in place I would highly suggest to you to tell Fill in Blank to refrain from removing or destroying them for I will consider and report it as destruction of private property. You call them antics, I call them my reactions in protecting my property and investment. I place stakes on my land because I don't want to cut gravel in the summer and Fill in Blank destroys them. I have not nor will I ever blatantly run over and destroy your work or your property in a violent rage. The stakes were placed to protect the grass from being rutted or from having gravel pushed onto it through ploughing. And speaking of pushing gravel onto the grass, what exactly was Fill in Blank trying to communicate when he came home and negated the snow removal work both Stefanie and I had done that day by ploughing it under. The trucks came and went without a problem, so what's Fill in Blank's? Does he think that it is his land to do with what he wants? Well, simply put, he is wrong. In eight years of living next door I never felt the need to find the boundaries when Bob and Elaine the former owners lived in your home. Shortly following us buying our property from their daughter we came to a peaceful understanding as to the limits and boundaries of the easements and properties. When Bob thought there needed to be something done to improve the water quality Elaine called us, giving us a heads up. In the same respect I took care of all the maintenance on part 3 of my property including snow removal. Short of excessive ice build up due to freezing rain and such weather, they never had a problem entering and exiting the drive onto Jack Lake Road in complete safety. If anything through the effort I put into clearing the snow first thing in the morning and periodically throughout the day (if needed, like when the plough goes by) followed by the laying of ashes on the hills (a Bob suggestion which works), they never had it so good. Not even Elaine got stuck at the end of the drive as she used to before I started looking after it. And that brings me to the subject of respect for our elders of which Bob Lee is a member. I prefer to form my opinions of people through their actions. Words and talk are generally cheap and unreliable. So when I heard directly from the source about your dealings and treatment of my former neighbor, my eyes were opened to a side of Fill in Blank I hadn't noticed before. You speak of lies accusing me of slander, harassment and ruining your good name, or as your lawyer put it "bordering on libel". Prove that what the Lees shared with us as to their experience in dealing with you (or anything else I may have written) are lies and I will remove them from my journal making a formal apology. But is it not true that you broke an old mans heart through your actions? You could have waited until he passed away and joined his recently departed son before cutting down his legacy. From what I have witnessed the damage done has been far more than just a few trees cut down. I just don't get this. In keeping with the subject of elders it is through my father that I have a tendency towards pickiness and perfection in how things are done. Which includes how I keep and maintain my property, my art and everything else. And I am proud of that aspect and proud of my father for sharing it. In the past when I shopped at your hardware store I always felt such respect from both _____ and eventually ____, that I developed a true loyalty in shopping there. So when I hear, witness and experience first hand the level of disrespect which has been shown towards, not only me but also my former neighbor, I just don't get it. Fill in Blank's elders obviously know and recognize the invaluable quality of respect given. It's what kept me coming back. A little respect and thoughtfulness goes a long way. In the same respect, so does disrespect. Old people know this, but these days they seem to be receiving it less and less. As for my writing, my mediums vary and words are just another. I draw and write from my experience and for quite some time now, I have been keeping an open journal. If I don't have rights to my experience or the right to express it openly what am I left with? I am an artist. And since my experience of being blocked in my driveway as a skidder was unloaded upon my property without prior notice, my experience with Fill in Blank has been negative. Not just perceived as such but truly negative. My daughter is afraid and to be frank, I worry as to the limits of Fill in Blank's darker side. But regardless, I must set my boundaries when it comes to protecting my family, home and property. One of the last times a truck approached to enter the drive, the bus had just gone by and was on it's way back up the road to pick up the kids. Through no creation of my own (short of the choice to send my daughter to school on the bus), I was put in the position of traffic control officer stopping the logging truck on the road. That done, I look for my daughter and find her huddled in the ditch, fear in her eyes and I have to coax her out. The driver waited until the kids were loaded and on their way and then he was on his. It's hard for me to put a positive spin on that experience. Going to school on the bus is one of her favorite things to do. The following day that this set of circumstances transpired, at least I received some respect from the driver and he waited without me having to hold my hand up to stop him. There's something positive but where was Fill in Blank when events purely of his design transpired? Nowhere to be seen. Respect and taking responsibility for your actions and the consequences which follow? Nice concept, rarely practiced. Harassment? Sorry but you do not get to play victim in the situation. Having 80 or so acres of your own you want to lay claim to part 3 of my 2 acres. If anyone is a victim of disrespect here, it is me and my family, the only difference is that I don't call myself one or am interested in playing the part. The easement is not at fault. But the mutual respect required for it to operate smoothly is missing. The easement is not your fault. But your assumption of "MY OWN DRIVEWAY" is in error. It is not your driveway, your driveway starts where part 3 of my land ends and even then it starts on the road allowance. Check the survey. Perhaps you should have investigated and spoken to the owners of the property to which the easements applied, before the purchase of your property. Ignorance of the deed and it's specified stipulations can not be used as an excuse to lay claim to your neighbors property. I will say it again, the easement allows you to walk, drive upon or fly over my property to get to Jack Lake Road and back home again. One last thing and I am done. You think that it is quiet around here lately? I beg to differ and so do neighbors a half mile down the road who have said to us, "Are they not done yet? I am getting sick of that noise." I believe it's the constant drone of the skidder they refer to. Boy and that one day when Fill in Blank thought it would be a good day to do some chipping, the house was vibrating. Literally vibrating all day long. Ya, real quiet. You must have a different concept of quiet. If you made it this far thank you for your correspondence and please adhere to the stipulations as stated within the deed. And I hope you don't start building and shipping out Airbus A 380's in the future. Petrus Boots
petrus@petrusboots.com ~
From: Fill in Blank Dear Petrus, You took the time to write all that, so I took the time to read it. We have not retained a lawyer; per say, so I am not sure who you forwarded that letter too. Fill in Blank was the real Estate Lawyer that handled the sale of this home and we asked his advise. Thanks for letting me know exactly what has occurred and how you feel. After 3 months it is good to know from YOU personally. Throughout this whole letter you talked about communication and respect. You showed us NONE. You made assumptions, had complaints and yet NEVER at any time attempted to talk to Fill in Blank or myself Directly. I would like to remind you and Stefani that when she came over after the tornado I mentioned to her that our property / trees were in serious disrepair. I told her we were devastated that all our trails and property were closed off by downed trees and unsafe HANGING limbs. We talked to the logger on a Sunday and had thought he was starting in a week. We FULLY intended to let you know about what we were planning. However; our logger started the next Tuesday (while Fill in Blank and I were at work I might add) Our LOGGER called us about YOUR concerns; something you did not see fit to do, and told us you were very angry with us. We decided to let you cool off. This is all I will say on the matter of how this began. The OPP spoke to us and THE BUS COMPANY after the incident with the truck coming at the same time as the bus. They told us about the incident, which again you did not feel the need to, and reported back to us that there was no issue. Again you seemed pretty angry and we decided to leave you to cool. We had thought when you cooled you would approach us with your concerns. I guess chatting with everyone else was easier? The driver backing into your driveway was a new driver and was reprimanded. Again, we heard about this complaint through a THIRD party and took care of it. I am aware what a "right of way" is and I am aware of what it stipulates. Our lawyer went over this with us. When I said I am anxious to leave MY OWN DRIVEWAY I meant leave my area and drive onto yours. Driving those few feet across your property makes my stomach cramp and I break into a sweat. Please do not talk about LETTING spider cross as your dog has come to my FRONT STEP and driveway to play with my dogs and to visit my son and I have NEVER stopped her from coming onto our property and have never complaied about it as I think it is petty. I will not involve innocents in any of the adult issues. I do not believe that Fill in Blank widened the driveway. I know that Fill in Blank cleared a path for his mother and ME on a snowy night, as he knew I was coming home late. Perhaps he over shot edge in the dark. Please be reminded that when you came into the store two years ago Fill in Blank asked if you minded him plowing the driveway and you told him you did not mind if he cleared the middle. There are witnesses to this verbal contract. Fill in Blank was very respectful to your stipulations last year and not once did he plow anything but the middle. Fill in Blank and I work long hours and leave quite early and arrive quite late some days. Please be advised that if Fill in Blank is leaving early in the morning, and he knows I am coming in the van shortly after, he will make it safe for his wife and child to leave. I guess we need to speak with our lawyer on this point? Maintenance on your driveway is your responsibility, but if we have right of way and can not make it out ....where does that leave us??? We can not be trapped at our home, nor can we be kept out of our home. We have the right to leave SAFELY when we need to. I certainly do not expect you to snow blow at 6 am so I can go to work, however, I will not get stuck or slip into a ditch because you won't let us remove snow. I am only asking to be allowed to remove snow from the MIDDLE of the drive for safety reasons alone. I hoping that we can work this part out. "Disregarding and disrespecting my various attempts at communicating my discontent with your actions leaves me with few options." I AM NOT SURE WHAT THIS MEANS??? You did not attempt to communicate with us VERBALLY (Telephone, in person) Never even wrote us a letter. Every time you were upset you told everyone else and/or did something in retribution, but never spoke to us. Please be advised that the day that you wanted to shock the well last year I was ILL and so was our baby. That is why I asked Fill in Blank to ask you if you could do it another day. As a general rule will not sit and defend anyone as I believe that those who truely know a person are the ones that count; however, that one was my fault and I can not allow him to be painted as an ass due to something I asked him to do. I believe that the "well" incident is distorted in your memory; however, if there is a problem with our portion of the well than please write exactly what we need to fix and we will do it. We will not, however; be discontinuing our use of the well. Contrary to what you wrote, we are not rich and can not afford to just make our own well. I will not disrespect Bob and Elaine by speaking of their business here; however, you are missing some facts about the "deal" to purchase this house and they in no way lost out. Furthermore, Fill in Blank and Bob have been, and remain to this day, good friends. There son and Fill in Blank were best friends. Bob was contacted and spoken to about what is going on and he agreed with what we proposed. So I am therefore unsure why you believe that we are breaking his heart or that he disagrees. The ONLY thing we apologized for was not having a chance to tell him before YOUR wife did. But then again BOB understood that Fill in Blank works 65 + hours a week and has little time on his hands. So please do not feel that you have to be the advocate for Bob and Elaine. They are fully aware of what is occurring, the reasons why, and what it is coming out to look like. Again, I will not speak too much about my father in law here as it is disrespectful to do so. HOWEVER.... Sid and he debated about what we should do and decided it was the best course of action to not only CLEAN the ungodly mess the tornado made, but to clear out some of the trees so that my family can enjoy it in the future. We do and and will not have the time to do so with our work schedule. I am sure that you were unaware of just how much damage there was done to our property and that said damage made it impossible to walk, ride, or enjoy the land we are paying taxes on. I am truly sorry that your daughter is scared of the truck. That is regrettable. You ask where Fill in Blank was during this.. AT WORK, AS USUAL! He leaves for work at 7 and does not come home till 6:30 or 7pm. So if you wonder where he is.. usually working. As for myself .. I am WORKING! I run a group home in Peterborough (for mentally challenged individuals) and make sure they have a valuable and full life. I work in excess of 50 hours a week. Whether you choose to believe it or not Fill in Blank and I work hard to be able to have what we have and to continue a tradition to pass on to our son. You HAVE HARASSED us and it is MY RIGHT to feel that way. You did not attempt any conversation or communication with us, but have said and done things that have had us questioning your intentions toward us. You have further continued to malign my husband and speak badly about him ... even in the letter you sent us in response to mine. You do not know Fill in Blank and have never tried to! You make ASSUMPTIONS and pre-judge and then turn events so that they confirm what you originally thought. That is SO WRONG! Try getting to know people. People and their intentions may surprise you. Please do not feel that I am suddenly writing you to be neighborly or to make amends after the fact. I still do not believe we did that much wrong in this scenario. The only reason I wrote you that letter was because the police advised me to let you know that we are worried about your actions and intentions. Ignorance of the deed and it's specified stipulations can not be used as an excuse to lay claim to your neighbors property. We are not ignorant of the particulars, nor do we seek to covet your property. I simply want to drive out without getting the shakes. I know it is not quiet and there is nothing we can do about the noise, not anything I can do, in the summer, when you crank your music, or dogs annoy me.. or cars drive up my driveway during your studio tour and upset the dogs and put MY SON AT RISK ( but then I never called and told you that a car came raring up the the driveway during the summer and nearly took my son out, who was playing innocently in HIS area.. I did not complain as you were not there and were not driving ) it is what it is! The noise is within bi-law times and will be done soon and then I hope never to have an issue again.
Have a Merry Christmas.. ~ With all due respect paid to Bob and Elaine Lee, someone is lying but as the owl likes to say in the dark of night, who? All I can say for certain is that I haven't noticed Bob or Elaine visiting the neighbors for tea lately. Or ever for that matter. And Bob and Elaine due hold some relevance in this neighborhood drama. When the logging operation began I was more annoyed than angry but when we heard from them and how they felt about it, it was like opening up the dampers and the next thing I knew the chimney was on fire. Hence my use of a dispassionate intermediary, specifically the Police, to voice my concerns to the relevant and responsible parties. Yes, I told the Police I was angry. How sober a decision is that? Curious how I wasn't informed by the Police, the bus company or anyone that the issue I raised concern over was taken care of. Also curious how following that I still had to take responsibility regarding the issue in the future. Any how I grow tired of this game, and don't even want to bother to dissect the truth out of it. At least not enough to continue to reply in this fashion. Logger heads, I believe it is called. And when these things come to fruition it usually ends up becoming a matter for the courts. ~
From: Petrus Boots Ok then. Attached is a note sent to me from a lawyer working on your behalf. If he is a real estate lawyer that is what this has to do with. I will send him the relevant information. Merry Christmas
~ Halfway through the process of dissecting all this, stripping it of emotional baggage and turning it into something which could be translated easily into a court document, I got totally sick from the twistedness of it all. So I stopped. New plan, I quit. And Fill in Blank about informing me that you will be running a commercial logging operation through my property for what is going on four months now, don't bother yourself, I know your time is worth more than mine. Also, I think it is just a little too late and besides I have but two words left to say to you anyway, hardly worth your while.
"This does put a damper on our
relationship." ~ It would seem free speech and the ability to speak freely is being threatened in our world today. So, on advice from my own lawyer I have decided to remove the name of the perpetrator of discontent from my October 31, 2006 journal entry. Having made that choice, in my heart I do not condone or believe in the adage, "the names have been changed to protect the innocent", because more often than not it just allows the guilty to continue to do the deeds of no regard with impunity. Below is an an email I received today from what I can only assume is somebody's lawyer, it pertains to the October 31st entry of this journal. ~
From: Fill in Blank's Lawyer Your musings are bordering on libel. I advise you cease and desist forthwith. Fill in Blank's Lawyer ~ As far as the "cease and desist" advice, I had already ceased long before this email entered my inbox. My anger was purged through my "musings", and since, I've just been waiting patiently looking forward to the day when the skidder crosses my land on the way out. I wait patiently still... ~ Rereading my last entry I see that at the time I still felt safe minding my own business in our little house in the woods, regardless of the Conservative terror breeding government which now runs the show from the big top in Ottawa. A lot can change in four months. ~ Question: What has happened to mutual respect within our world? ~ With a heavy heart and a cluttered mind I begin this journal entry in an effort to find it (respect) but I don't hold out much hope that I shall. The most I can hope for in this entry is to clear my head through sharing some stories of where it isn't. It all began shortly before our third and my last studio tour. Feeling safe and relatively secure within my home, getting the house ready for the tour, I hear the grunts and groans of heavy machinery pulling into my driveway. I go out to investigate and what do I find parked on the land which we pay the taxes on? A dump truck along with a trailer loaded with what is known as a logging skidder blocking my access to the outside world. This is how I first found out that for the next two to three months (just in time for the start of the new school season) fully loaded tandem logging trucks would be driving across my land to haul out the booty. This is how I initially found out that logging trucks would be turning in and out of the driveway where my daughter and two other neighborhood children aged 5 to 6 wait for and depart from the school bus. I don't know about you but in the age where kids are now required to "wear helmets to bed in case their head hits the pillow" * I think loaded logging trucks, school buses and kids should not be in the same picture. But then what would I know I'm just a father trying to keep his six year old daughter safe in a world which seems to be getting more fucked up with each passing minute. At this point one might wonder... how did these events of conflict transpire? Well... with the exception of believing in the concept of mutual respect between humans, I can safely say one thing for certain; through no fault of my own. Regardless, some context to the story needs to be added here to fully illustrate how recent events on 761 Jack Lake Road came to pass. To bring it all together I must start from the beginning. I must travel back to the day when Stefanie and I first drove up the drive leading to the place we have called home for the past ten years. I will try to be as brief as possible. We bought our home in Apsley with the knowledge that it came with two easements in relation to the house next door. For those who don't know what an easement is, it is basically a stipulation on the property deed where one has to share certain elements of the land with a neighbor. With the most respectful of people this kind of arrangement can become tenuous and dubious. Despite what most of us have been taught through Sesame Street and Little Bear on the virtues of sharing and neighborhood community ethics of behavior, there are those who have no other consideration but consideration for themselves. Amazing but true, humans can act in ways that are purely self centered and self serving. Imagine that. Unfortunately one does not have to imagine too hard or in my particular case... too far. So that's an easement, and in my particular case the easements concern the use of the well on my land and the driveway entrance to Jack Lake Road (also my land) to which the neighbor has right of way in order to get to his property. And although the owners of the house and land next door had lived there for the past twenty years or more and previously owned my property as well, there was a level of respect between us and our shared circumstance. I can't say that we always saw eye to eye but after some initial pissing contests on who actually owned the driveway property now and how the driveway would be plowed during the winter, we held on to our respect for each other. If anything, by the time they were ready to sell their house and land the level of mutual respect had grown. Or so I thought. Bob and Elaine Lee after raising their seven kids into adulthood were ready to sell their self-built log home along with the 80 or so acres of well managed wood lot on which it sat. It was beautiful, well managed land and the house was also something to be desired. After living next door for some time Stefanie and I began to consider if perhaps we should buy it, bringing the two properties together again. I had dreams of eventually turning the house we now live in into purely a gallery and moving our home space and studio to the other house. So we told the owners, let us know when you are ready to move because we are interested in buying their property. To which we got a reply of being first on the list. Next thing I hear the house and property have been sold. And this information I did not get from the former owners but by way of the small town grapevine. Like I said, I thought we had a level of mutual respect but perhaps it was just talk; for actions speak volumes where communication is nonexistent. So it's good bye to Bob and Elaine Lee and hello to our new neighbor "who will remain nameless", owner (after having it handed down to him by his father) of a local hardware store. C'est la vie to another dream but at the outset I was optimistic and thought perhaps the easement situation might work out better, considering he had not owned our land previously. Although I was still a bit miffed with how our dream was usurped, at that time I was not fully aware of the level of deception or "untruthyness" ** afoot. For the first year or so it all seemed to go relatively smooth. When it came time to shock the well (purifying the water through the use of chlorine) I informed the new neighbor through gathering information on the process and bringing it to him. Telling him a week in advance when I would be doing it and that he should be prepared with a store of drinking water. The day came, I was ready and the first thing he says is, he's not ready and can we do it another day. One red light of warning goes off in my mind. Regardless of his neglect in preparation, I gave him some time in the day to run some water and he changed his mind. Then as we were working on the well he says this to me, " I'm eventually going to dig my own well and then I'll just use this one to water the plants..." and whatever else. Red light number two. Imagine having the money to drill a new well (because that is all I can do, imagine) while continuing to draw from your neighbor's dug well. This did not sit well with me and I told him as much. Saying that if he does that I will have to force him to dig up the intake hose from his house to the well because it is the major source of the well's contamination. This information made him think twice and he made the smart choice that when he drills a well of his own he will release the easement. I go into some detail regarding that first attempt at working together with my new neighbor to illustrate how obtuse and self-centered his thinking is. Compare this to how I considered his view of my property by not covering my secondary wood shed with an ugly blue tarp he would have been forced to look at. A minor consideration when I look at the situation now but a consideration which shows a level of respect that I now see was totally undeserved. So here we are again, logging skidder unloaded and blocking my driveway with me yelling at loggers telling them to move it because I need to get out. And now is when all five red lights blaze and the whole shit pile is released leaving me with the only one option afforded me. To do my best to shovel it faster out of my head than it was being dumped in. In speaking with the former owners of the property, they told us that their major consideration in selling the property to the new neighbor was that he agreed to a promise of never logging the land. Within a year he is taking out every tree over 12 inches in diameter, or so we heard from a neighbor through a neighbor who found out from the logging company. And here's the real kicker. If they had sold it to us they would not have needed any such broken promise and from having watched how I manage my small lot for eight years or so, they knew that. But wait, there's more to the story and how I have developed a clearer picture of who my new neighbor is and his level of impunity with regard to others. The property was sold to him through the Lee's carrying the mortgage at zero interest. A bit of history on the Lee's situation is in order here. Bob Lee worked most of his life for Ontario Hydro and then retired only to have his pension lost through some pension investment scheme gone wrong. Taking that bad luck into account I can only admire his respect for the land he managed that much more. If anyone could have used the money through logging, it was him. If any one deserved to log that land, it was him. In eight years only once did I see him cut some trees other than to create warmth for the winter. A single truck load which he treated as if they were made out of gold. And when a logging company approached him to use his land to get trees out, he told them it wasn't his driveway so he did not give them permission. I wonder if my new neighbor could be so considerate? Obviously not. For it's been two months and counting and I haven't heard so much as a peep from the responsible party. Although the neighborhood has gotten rather noisy with the sound of the skidder, logging trucks, dump trucks and of course the buzz of chainsaws followed by the inevitable crash of falling trees. Trees that Bob Lee and his family walked by if not a thousand perhaps a million times. So along with the fact that my daughter's and for that matter my dog's safety concerns while walking and playing on our two acres of land has been raised to a new level, I also find out who has truly moved next door. And to think I actually asked him if it was alright that I put up some signs at the end of my driveway because he would have to look at them. Boy do I feel stupid having loyally spent thousands of hard earned dollars at a place where such a person would benefit. And that's where it has come to. After searching out various options I might hold as far as rights in this situation I am left with only one that I have found so far. The right to vote with my dollar. Knowing what you know about a person and having witnessed acts of a total lack of respect by such a person towards anyone in close proximity, how can anyone be expected to continue to support them in any way? Dishonest President, Premier, business man or person living next door, when their actions amount to the same results of poor poorer and rich richer, it all turns into politics. Imagine a person who would, having no discernable financial struggles of their own consciously and with full knowledge of plight, take advantage of one who is working through their retirement. What is wrong with my generation? Or have there always been those privileged few who would pay total disregard to the ones suffering? I suppose so, for history has yet to see a fully enlightened generation of humans make it's mark upon the planet. If that ever had happened in the past I think our present and future outlook would be brighter. If you know that your broken promise and resulting actions are going to break an old mans heart, why not just go over and piss on him directly and honestly? Or better yet, just shoot him and put him out of the misery you are putting him through. Crazy as that may sound, at this point those sort of actions seem more humane, for I have never regretted putting our dog Tasha down to end her suffering. This is what it has come to, I treat my dog with more dignity than most humans do towards each other? And it's one thing to watch this kind of human behavior on the BBC or CNN in far off places but quite another to be reminded of it as it drives up and down your drive, day after day, after day. At least with the box I have the power to turn it off. Even pretend it doesn't exist. No such luxury here, for my eyes keep seeing and my ears keep hearing, I haven't found the off switch for those. Anyone know where it is? So it's one thing to talk about the Bush, Blair, Harper and "all that politics". I even get some subtle criticism at times for keeping track of events on the news but now here it is. There is no luxury of saying, "I'm not into politics", because it came to roost next door. That same arrogant out for oneself screw the rest of the world attitude which at present runs the big top in Washington and countless other World Capitals is at play right here in small town Apsley. It's like a disease that is spreading and crawling into any slight crevice or crack in the foundation of humanity and weakening base values on which we all have to stand. Base values of mutual respect and the small town etiquette of looking out for your neighbors it seems, is on the way out... ... sorry, I just had to step out for a minute to tell a trucker backing his tandem onto my property (to which there is no right of way easement), in no uncertain terms, to find another way to turn his rig around. Now where was I? At yet another sore point I suppose. Having to work at home all these heart wrenching sights and sounds add a new level of distraction from what I should be doing. Even this writing could have been avoided. And there are moments of weird hesitation when I think perhaps I shouldn't write all this and publish it for all who stumble upon it to read. There are those I am sure who would say that I should just go talk to the man but then that was the problem from the start, now wasn't it? He didn't think or consider my family and I relevant in his intrusion on our space or even worthy of notification thereof. Besides, to not bring these truths to light would only leave them in darkness where they feel free to breed with self-justified impertinence. So now it's all too late. The land that is part of the globe we share, which is getter hotter with every Canyonaro *** sold and carbon dioxide converting tree cut down, is altered forever. And like the trees who have fallen and will never see the light of day again, my relationship (if one can call it that) with my new neighbor is forever altered. What began as giving one's new neighbor the benefit of the doubt is now of little doubt. Through his actions he has proven his worth. And on a decency based scale from poor, fair, good to excellent, in my opinion he is somewhere below the dirt floor of the poorest person on the planet. ~ There are none so poor as those who act solely for their own benefit. ~ Justice, ironically portrayed by the image which graces either side of my driveway entrance would seem a distant relative to retribution. I find little solace in holding onto the tenant of universal and eternal karmic balance in a world where the poorest will be the first to feel the effects of global warming perpetrated by those of us richest. And I hate this feeling of impotence in being allowed to do or say anything about it. So under the constant drone of machinery, crashing trees and having to pull the kids out of the way of a logging truck twice, I write it down. Once while waiting for and another time disembarking the bus we had to avoid the logging trucks. Then one day, seeing my daughter waiting for the bus standing in the woods off the drive in fear, I had to do something. So I put a grievance in at the police station, whatever good it did is hard to tell. Taking responsibility into my own hands I put up Children Playing and Watch for Children signs. Something I know how to do. Lastly, I don't and will never shop at the hardware store again. I exercise my right to vote with my dollar, I may not have many but the ones I earn are good ones. As far as driveway maintenance, since we are all out for ourselves I will just take care of it myself, thank you very much. I will shovel it by hand before I let the neighbors plow touch the stones I've laid. Right of way is all the easement states. I am sure part of the hesitation to write this down is in fear of receiving a summons charging me with some sort of slander. But then again it can only be slander if what you say and write is not true. For example, if I said that I feel mutual respect from my neighbor, that would be lying. That would be constituted as slander. This story is true. Besides if you can't talk about the shitty things people do, how will things ever change for the better? It reminds me of something I saw on the news recently. A young high school student felt the need to express herself with regard to the leader to which, through no vote of her own, she is subject. She took an image of W, overlaid the universal symbol of a red circle with a line running through the middle, wrote along the top "Kill Bush" and then published it on her Myspace site. I guess you are not allowed to threaten the President of the United States (no matter how bad he is) with death. The Secret Service, CIA or FBI came to her home and finding her not at home went to her school to pick her up. No doubt on terror related charges. A blonde 14 year old American female suburban terrorist, who would have thought? Thank God she was only reprimanded and not tortured for information but she was forced to remove the image from her site. Which leads me to this, it seems words can get you into trouble these days and if it can happen to a down home apple pie eating American hometown girl, it can happen to anyone. Although, if I was her, this is what I would have done. I would have changed the words around, added an s to Kill and we have Bush Kills. Which is not a threat but a true statement, for as Commander in Chief, he chose to go to war and whether you believe it or not, lied to do so. And as anyone with half a brain could tell you the act of war necessitates the need for killing and death. "Inexplicably linked, they are." **** So let me get this, a person can go to war, directly and indirectly killing and affecting the lives of countless people in a negative way but expressing merely the threat of killing through art on the internet is something disallowed. I wonder if that is the same energy which causes my self-censorship warning light to occasionally flicker in my mind as I write. You can cut the trees but don't write about it on the paper they died for. You are allowed to act like a jerk but not allowed to write about one. Well... regardless of the yellow self-censorship light of warning, this time I have to run the lights and hope that no one sideswipes me because more than likely the blame for any collision would be mine. Why I should have any second thoughts on publishing this experience is still beyond my understanding. I mean why not, what have I got to lose, my neighbors respect? ~ What of Bob and Elaine the former neighbors I now miss. Bob still lives in the area and is fully aware of what is going down on the land which he so carefully cared for, not only for himself and his family but for future generations of people he obviously did not know. I imagine, now working at N. H. Wilson Building Supply (rather than at the "other hardware" store) he sees the trucks roll by carrying out his carefully crafted legacy in pieces. For me it would be like someone buying a piece of work which I spent 20 to 30 years producing only to see it cut up in pieces and never exist whole again. It's a crime but not one there is a law against. Elaine being the Good Christian she is, is praying for the perp and all I can think when I hear this is, so am I but most likely wishing for very different results. Then again, maybe not, for the Lord works in mysterious ways and it takes a whole lot of shit to transform a taker into a giver these days. The end result I am sure, that she is praying for. As for me, well... I will do my best to roll with the punches and from what I have witnessed lately I would not be at all surprised to feel the effects of more bumps along the neighborhood road in the future. Along the inevitable bumpy road we all must travel I would ask anyone who has felt the truth of what I have written or experienced unlawful injustice in action firsthand, take action, vote with your dollar. Money is the collective blood of our society on which the vampires among us feed off humanity. Also, if you should find yourself in Apsley Ontario and for whatever unknown reason be in need of building supplies you can find what you need at N. H. Wilson Building Supplies in the Heart of Apsley. Happy Halloween. ~ List of Respects Due: * George Carlin ** Stephen Colbert *** The Simpsons **** Yoda ~ † June 11, 2006 Five months since my last entry... where have I been and where have we gone? Five months down the road of a Conservative government and I am thankful I live in a place within Canada that for the moment is of little interest to people with bombs. And that's where I have been, hunkered down on Jack Lake Road following the prime directive and minding my own business. Pity we couldn't say that for the "morons" who are looking after our "best" interests. So... not much has changed on the world stage in five months. It seems we are still at the mercy of the lowest common human denominators. What was it I heard today? Hmm... oh yeah, three permanent residents of Guantanamo Bay hung themselves using whatever means were available to them. Which, if I was in their shoes or soft souled slippers, I can understand. But what I don't quite get is when U.S. State Department spokeswoman Colleen Graffy said, "it's good PR". Having heard that I had to ask myself, "Good for who?" Good for three more dead people? Somehow I doubt if good PR is of any concern to them anymore. Maybe it's good PR for Camp Gitmo, with the suicides showing how these people have such little regard for life that they would kill themselves. And with that "fact" established they deserved to be there. It's a bit like blaming the raped for the rape but then what can one expect from a professional PR government spokeswoman. I guess it's true, we see who we are and a PR propagandist such as Colleen Graffy would see the desperate act of suicide as good PR. ~
"They don't value their own lives and they certainly don't
value ours. Colleen Graffy ~ U.S. Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Public Diplomacy ~ Interestingly enough, further evidence of reflected reality (seeing only their mirrored image), is presented to us through the military rationalization of the Gantanamo suicides. Sounding much like the infamous phrase "that would depend on what the word is means", this bullshit was spoon fed by our elder brother through comparing the prisoner suicides to suicide bombers. From U.S. Rear Admiral Harry Harris's point of view, military prisoners taking their own lives amounted to and was dispensed for public consumption as an "act of war", much like those who blow up innocents or so called "soft targets". But the only similarity I can see in the comparison given is the word suicide, and possibly that both acts are generally born out of people's desperation. I don't know about you but if I was held by the U.S. Most Powerful for four years without charge or hope, I might be inclined to just want to escape by whatever means possible. I mean... just crossing the U.S. border innocent of all charges but looking otherwise is intimidating enough for me. I can't even imagine how I would feel being incarcerated in an illegal U.S. Military Prison indefinitely. And so called Camp Gitmo is a prison, camps are places you send your kids for summer fun. ~
"They have no regard for life, either ours or their
own. Rear Admiral Harry Harris ~ Gantanamo Camp commander ~ Once again, only a Rear Admiral could twist the act of suicide into an "act of war". So it is... but if I was to make a comparison it would be this. Dead civilians or "collateral damage" through dropping big ol' fucking smart bombs with bad intelligence is something akin to blowing yourself up along with whomever happens to be passing by. That is war and the acts or tactics thereof. No glory, just death and more death. What's next on the propaganda agenda? That the 24 or so Iraqis gunned down by Marines in a Vietnam War-esque fashion of militarized delusional slaughter should be to blame? Low and behold that I should take a break from writing this journal entry only to catch this on CNN... ~
"The lawyer (Neal Puckett)
for the senior Marine at the scene of the killing says Jamie McIntyre ~ CNN Correspondent
Neal Puckett ~ Attorney for Staff Sgt. Frank Wuderich ~ Question is, who put them in that "fog of war" which turned into "the wrong place at the wrong time"? I can imagine that once upon a time they considered where they were to be their home and place where they could keep themselves and their children safe. But not anymore. And now, according to Mr. Puckett, their deaths were their own fault for living in Iraq. The wrong place at the wrong time. And what exactly could be construed as the "wrong time" for a citizen of Iraq? Anytime during the Bush regime's reign of power? Lawyers, Admirals and Presidents, they seem to believe that we will believe any interpretation of events as they see fit to deliver them. But that truth of mirrored self-reflection is one that just won't leave me. Once in a while out of some perverse curiosity I find myself listening to the Bush speak and during the often painful process I flip a switch in my head. I imagine that what he is saying about the war on terror, terrorists, Saddam or whatever... he is actually saying about himself. It's quite interesting because more often than not what he says about terrorists and what not, applies directly to himself. For example and I am paraphrasing but pretty sure he has said this once or a thousand times, "terrorists are cowards who kill innocent civilians". And interestingly enough this might be true, but on the other hand... The propagandist's belief in our ignorance has been slipping a percentage or two, and with hope and heightened public awareness, will fall further as the next U.S. Presidential election draws near. George's popularity is in a bit of a tailspin and progressively more Americans are not buying what's being dished out. I have to believe that one day the world's population will evolve to the point where lies and half truths are instantaneously recognized for what they are. I have to believe that one day the victim will no longer be able to be blamed for the crime. Until that day, I'll listen to what is presented to us through the news by the governing bodies with the filtering question of; who does this serve? I asked that question as I watched the Twin Towers tumble like some planned demolition. Where the question led me, was to a government which now proclaims justification for detaining people without charge, illegal eavesdropping of it's own people, declaring war on oil rich countries and whatever other criminal misconducts known, unknown and yet to come. Perhaps, and I suppose this is my more pessimistic side coming through, only when the majority of the world population find themselves in the role of guilty victim will we stop taking the blame for those who profit while we pay. ~ Well... in spite of world politics, or perhaps because of it, choosing to focus on my own local surroundings, I've managed to get some new things happening. Most significant is cranking the volume under the eaves of the studio, blasting Mike Scott and the Waterboys through my soul while applying pigment to canvas of a new painting. See: Progress section for slideshow. My Love is My Rock in The Weary Land (having lain unheard and dormant since I got it years ago) is one of those Waterboys tunes which feels particularly pertinent in helping the paint flow freely this time round. It does seem to be a weary land we find ourselves inhabiting lately and the next element of the new painting to be worked is the rock which is the central theme of the piece. ~
"None of this moves me My Love is my rock in the long low weary land..." Mike Scott ~ The Waterboys ~ † January 24, 2006 I'm not one to get involved in politics to the point of any loyalties to a specific party. My view and interest in how governments are formed and elected stems from a wider global view with regard to how the choices made affect the world as a whole. I've always felt and prefer to think of myself as a universal being enrolled in the schoolroom we all share, planet earth. And from this perspective, when our Canadian government of the time chose not to follow in the lies set forth by the Bush administration regarding war in Iraq, I allowed myself to feel a certain sense of pride in being a Canadian. Well... so much for that. In watching the lead up to the Canadian election I caught a sound bite and this is what Stephen Harper (our new Prime Minister) said with regard to their campaign and the possibility of getting elected. It went something like this, "...we will see if I am a fool or a genius." It only took 36.25% of voting Canadians to turn a follower of George W. Bush (the biggest idiot in world politics) into a genius. So who are the fools then? Well it is not me because I voted Liberal and made that choice long before any of the Liberal campaign ads aired proclaiming Harper and the Conservatives as an extension of the Bush ideology and agenda. The Conservatives must have known this was coming and taking a page out of the Bush play book spun it to the media as Liberal fear mongering, and in the end that is what came through the box. The truth that the Conservatives are "Brokeback Mountain" with the Republicans was all but obliterated by the ads which to me just said it the way it was and is. Imagine that... telling the truth in politics doesn't get you elected. But then we all knew that didn't we? After all, we Canadians had front row seats to the greatest show of deception going, the last U.S. election and their political process. It was shortly following that last U.S. election where I was left (like many others in the world) scratching my head wondering, 'how could this happen after all the shit that had gone down through the first Bush term?' The American people were lied into a war and that war was quickly turning in upon them and still... they re-elected the village idiot. The day following that election I felt confused and could not stop thinking about it. We went on a shopping trip to Peterborough that day (a forty minute drive from where we live) and on the journey, I did my best to attempt to process all this stuff and try to make sense of it. It wasn't until our return trip to Apsley that it dawned on me what might be going on. As we were passing the sign along the 28 highway just before the Apsley turn off proclaiming "Jesus is Alive", I was reminded of how the Christian Right vote made a significant difference in the re-election of George W. With that thought in mind I punched in an internet search on the subject of Christian Fundamentalist Politics and what came up was something called "The Rapture." For those who don't know, it's the Fundamentalist Christian belief in The End, Judgment Day, Armageddon. The day when all good Christians will be pulled up to Heaven leaving their clothes and non-christian neighbors to rot in boils and pestilence. And where is this event to begin? The Middle East of course a.k.a. The Holy Land. Somewhere around and close to oil rich Iraq. So... what were they thinking when, with no good reason they bombed the crap out of a Middle Eastern country, already on it knees, with the end result being more terrorists, hatred, polarization and global destabilization. To anyone with half a brain it doesn't make any sense. Unless of course global destabilization is truly what you were after in the first place. No plan for bringing "the peace" after "the war". Was that just stupidity or was it by conscious "intelligent design"? I don't know, but it does make me wonder. It made me wonder enough to decide back then that come the next Canadian election and if it looked like the friends of Bush, a.k.a. the Harper Conservatives, should stand a chance at getting elected I would vote against them. I felt it as a citizen of the free world to do what I could and try to stop this twisted ideology from spreading across the border we share with the U.S. But of course it was already here. It was too little too late and now here we are. Question is, where are we going from here? My locally elected politician, a Conservative, said the gay marriage issue should be re-examined. Beyond the politically motivated election side step, what does that mean? Well he couldn't come right out during the election process and say gay marriage should be banned but that is all it could possibly mean. Sorry gay Americans, but the underground railway leading to a safe haven free from a prejudiced government has been cancelled. And what does it mean when one of the first priorities of the Conservatives is to repair relations with the U.S.? As far as I was concerned Canadian relations with the Bush administration was one thing which was on the right track. So what now and how? What will make George and the boys happy besides the fact that Conservatives from oil country are now running the show next door? Do you think maybe he will invite us to the party he's throwing in Iraq? Oh boy, won't that be fun! Well, if anything... things could get interesting. Now that Canada is being run by the Reform party, I mean the Republicans, oh no... that's the Conservatives I feel that Canada for all it's cold winters (which I could do without) has gotten a few degrees colder. ~ Oh and by the way I've started smoking tobacco again. I wish I could blame it on the election and Stephen Harper but I can't. Two months without my friend Nick wasn't a bad start though. It showed me the possibility. Someday soon I will have to try it again but for the time being I'm back to not kicking myself for being human. As far as Mary, well we are not going to talk about her anymore, are we? At least not until Bush and Harper are sucked up by the new and improved Rapture vacuum. As the sign on the Apsley Chapel proclaims in bold letters "READY?", I have to answer, YES... I'm looking forward to picking at my boils in the midst of pestilence as long as I can watch the likes of Harper and Bush leave this planet I call home. ~ † November 17, 2005 
How about scapegoats and the secondhand smokescreen? It's been sixteen days since my last cigarette and although quitting began with saving dollars in mind it has moved on to other reasonings. One might think, well... it must be the health issue, right? And I would be inclined to say, no not really. Where giving up smoking has become a benefit is in how this insidious thirty year habit has ingrained itself into my thought patterns. Now you might ask, why would one think that to be a benefit? To understand that, one would also have to have come to an understanding in life how suffering is grace. It's grace because suffering takes you to places you would never have ventured willingly. It may sound ludicrous in our health conscience society but from where I now stand, to have smoked and now by going through withdrawal it is more beneficial to me than never having smoked at all. Through this I get an opportunity to watch my brain do it's thing. I get a chance to see how the tool, which is my mind, seems to think it's running the show. I am given an opportunity to reel it (my mind) in and begin once again to use it instead of being abused by it. Subtle difference in language but vital difference in how life is experienced. Or you could think of it this way, imagine if a tool, like say... a chainsaw, was just running amuck with no one to guide it? What a massacre... what a mess. That's most of our minds, most of the times. Makes one wonder why the world is in such dire straits, doesn't it? So here we are and if we could only stretch to see how the negative as well as the positive serves the Whole. I've come up against these seemingly endless contradictions in more ways than one. And why am I dressed up like it's Halloween? It's the picture I'm talking about. I've always wanted to do that for Halloween, dress up as a Scapegoat but I never got around to it. Now here it is and it was much easier to create in Adobe. Scapegoat... I've been there. And most likely part of the reason I have a quantity of compassion and understanding for some of the most notorious scapegoats or tyrants of our age. Who's the latest... Saddam? You have to admit he may have been bad but as the negative serves the Whole maybe not all bad. And maybe not as bad as all that "shock and awe" or "shake n' bake" would justify. He wasn't the first and he won't be the last scapegoat to be the justification for a massive assault that rivaled any he may have had the opportunity or capability to inflict. Why, even during the first Gulf war there were stories of how the CIA inspired Saddam to invade Kuwait, giving George the elder a reason to get a military foothold in the oil rich middle east. The puppets and the puppeteers and who's running the show? It seems the chainsaw is, without a reason why or what for. So it is important for us all to use the most powerful tool we have at our disposal, our mind. Use it in a conscious and hence an effective way. When mine tells me I need a cigarette I no longer believe it and allow the thought to just go it's way. In time this practice will create new blueprints which can then be applied to other habitual patterns presently controlling my existence. So you see, my friend Nick has and continues to serve me well. Nothing is wasted and all is part of the whole. Do we not live in an age where we need to recycle? Well then, lets do it. Secondhand smoke as a scapegoat has been a handy one to allow everyone to focus on an ever shrinking part of our society (smokers) and lay all blame on them. During my time of tobacco use I certainly felt thus. I mean... what other product could possibly get stuck and laden with a so called "sin tax" creating government profits while laying on the guilt of baby killer on the payer of that tax. I have never been able to get my head around it all, but whatever, eventually it should all implode and those taxes will have to be made through other sinful means. So look out all of you who would judge the huddled few standing outside their workplace door catching a smoke while freezing their buts. All this nonsense, while around and by us all secondhand actions are affecting us and our neighbors in negative ways beyond any a little smoke could cause. I've had trouble sleeping lately and while awake I've thought about them and the list is endless. We could take our number one boy with a dangerous toy... Georgie. What secondhand effects has the actions of the present President of the United States had? In that one alone the ramifications are endless, not to mention what effect the present actions of this influential leader has had on future generations. They say, not a blade of grass moves that it does not affect everything in the Universe. Oops... but it sure is a good thing he doesn't smoke. Yes we as nations and humanity surely have our priorities and ducks in a row. Trouble is those ducks and priorities are waddling across an interstate packed with speeding sixteen wheel transport trucks and gas guzzling Hummers locked n' loaded for bear. C'est la vie and all that, but one does not have to look too far these days to find inconsistencies within our human behavior. It's the kind of stuff which has drawn me to movies such as "Falling Down" with Michael Douglas or more recently, "The Assassination of Richard Nixon" with Sean Penn. As with Saddam there is a part of me which relates to these characters and what befalls them. It's the whole blame it on the scapegoat deal where in the end you are left saying to yourself because there is no one else to say it to, "I'm the bad guy?" Just as an example, there were those who made promises to my little girl. Promises which were not kept. Promises broken not once not twice but more times then I can remember. These promises lead to her sitting, waiting, wondering and crying with backpack packed. The only conciliation I could see for her in this experience was that through it she would learn a valuable lesson. That lesson is... in life there is only one person you can rely upon one hundred percent. When I asked her who she thought that was her first answer was Mama. I shook my head and then she looked at me but again, I shook my head, no not me. When she could not think of anyone else I pointed at her and said, you, you can only ever rely upon yourself. And I believe she got it, and will carry it with her throughout her life's journey. Got to make lemonade out of lemons when the opportunity arises. Beyond that life lesson, I felt it was time that I let the ones responsible for letting her down know how I felt. Adult to adult. And of course, having done that, now I'm the bad guy who has been blacklisted and made to feel bad for trying to put a stop to my daughters disappointment. If that makes sense to you, it doesn't to me, but then again, George Walker Bush was elected President of the most powerful nation on our planet not once but twice. And I don't know if I have or if there are enough juice containers in the whole world for that much lemonade but lets hope so. ~ One more thing before I go. It seems I am not the only artist to find it difficult if not almost impossible to stay true while continuing to produce his work. One of my inspirations Matt Johnson of The The has had problems of his own, here you can check out what he thinks about it all. Statement of Matt Johnson of "The The" on record companies and Digital Audio And lastly... I know that the horns are from a big horn sheep and not a goat, I just preferred the way they looked. It's called artistic license. ~ † November 9, 2005 Frying Fish and the Story of Jill Christie Well... how about those other fish then. The ones I mentioned previous (Nov 7th entry). Who are they? And how shall I fry them? Do I just leave them on the fire, forget them, let them burn to a crisp to be ravaged by the packs of dogs who will eventually come to feed? Excuse me, Jim Morrison sings in the background and I can't help but be influenced. O.K., Jim is quiet now, his song has ended and now I can concentrate on my own words. The ones I speak of, the people who have taken their toll on my beliefs, purpose, determination, pursuits, willpower, resolve, character, integrity, spirit, worth, confidence... yeah, that's the word I was looking for... confidence. Self-confidence. So... who are they? Who are the ones who have undermined my self-confidence and belief in self? Not to name names but just to pin it to a source of some sort. How else do I fight it, resist it, defeat it, if it remains just another abstract concept? Because this whole abstract thing is like pinning down water and only takes shape in those who would use it, although they would be the first to deny it. So in essence they are fish, slimy bottom feeding fish, who when you try to release them slap you in the face leaving their stink upon you. It seems that Jim hasn't gone too far after all. Lets see if I can approach this from another perspective. Even I'm getting myself lost in all this babble and that is just the thing I want to avoid. I've often thought that this Homerism (and that's Simpson, Homer J.) basically states what I suffer. Homer is in some bomb shelter, the With-stand-in-ator to be exact. Within it he finds a calendar and again, to be exact, a Gary Larson Far Side calendar. For those who don't know, Larson is a cartoonist who works in the obscure. Anyway, Homer flips through the months and with every passing monthly cartoon he says, "I don't get it.", flip "I don't get it.", flip "I don't get it"... When he is done the big bomb has gone off, the comic book guy realizes he has wasted his life and most everyone in Springfield is nuclear waste. At least that is the way I used to feel about it. I used to feel, "I don't get it", when looking upon what passes for art these days, but now I see that there is a subtle difference in how I truly view it. And the difference is this, "I don't buy it." Because that is what it is all about these days, isn't it? In every age art has been made to conform. It all depends on what the religion of the age is and you will find it serving within their temples in servitude. Of course even under these constraints there are beautiful and truthful works which transpire, but to a larger extent only bigger versions of the same Stalin statue are erected. So what is the religion of our age? What is the religion of the modern contemporary age of reason? Well despite what the Fundamentalists, Catholics, Jews, Muslims and whatever other configuration of belief system in the Divine might think, it is not theirs. And for that matter even the God of Science takes a back seat to the religion of our age. In fact, even the lesser God of our age, the religion of reason and rational thought, our school system of higher learning and education is subservient to this new religion with ancient roots. A phrase comes to mind which I heard quite often as I watched the last U.S. election (if that's what you can call it ), it was a phrase which won Bill Clinton his first or second term, "It's the economy, stupid." Could it be that simple? In a world, or for that matter a universe of complexities beyond the comprehension of most, is that the one which keeps humanity on its knees floundering? You will have to pardon the pun but I did start this off talking about fish. With the side show of freaks in the form of religious terrorists, fundamentalists, political thieves, buggering priests, art and artists offering only more confusion and doubt, are we missing the point? Blow yourselves and everyone else up but its not about Allah, Jesus, Mohammed or whatever other prophet who has walked this earth. It's just about profit. So how do we get free and stop worshiping the big E with everything we do while pretending otherwise? How do we get art out of its clutches and bring it back to its original purpose? How do we get a level playing field for all, while still remaining true to humanities drive for excellence and the eternal strive for higher purpose? Of course, some may disagree with me and that is their prerogative but I have always thought art was here to serve a purpose. And that I as an artist had a part to play in its purpose. The purpose I speak of is specific and not just some vague abstract concept designed to befuddle the consumer into buying shit that stinks while convincing them it's coming up roses. Basically, the post modern contemporary abstract neo-whatever art world to me just smells of a very old fish market. I suppose some like that smell... I don't. But having trudged through it, I can't seem to get the stench of my shoes. Nonetheless, I will try. I have to, because if I don't my life until now is all for naught. I refuse to accept that. So what is this purpose I hint at? Hey, to say art is about anything these days is dangerous and generally leaves one on the side lines commercially marginalized. But hey, I smoked for thirty odd years and one day I took that leap and said no more. None of this, lets do the patch, or miles of nicorette gum thing, trading one addiction for the other... just a simple no. Seven days now and although the first day was filled with fear of what will happen now, it's O.K. Nick still knocks at the door every once in a while but like the song says, "you keep a knockin' but you can't come in". But I digress, what was it again? Oh yeah, purpose, specific, art, why. The best way I can get this across is to tell a story. It's a story within a story and it begins shortly following our arrival here in the land of fishers and forests, Jack's Lake Apsley Ontario Canada. ~ We had just moved into our new home from having spent the last three or so years traveling the Southwestern United States, and our new neighbors invited us over for dinner and whatever else is offered in the neighborly way. I guess we were all curious because they had heard we were artists and they worked in the same field of our society, or so we all thought. But it wasn't long before I realized that we and our new neighbors were perhaps in the same field but playing on opposing ends. It was following dinner when excited about an artists new book of photographs our new neighbor wished to show me, that I realized I may as well have moved to Mars for all the company we would share in the future. He showed me the book and there was one photograph in particular which I recall. It was a photo of a stream, an ordinary stream as far as nature can be determined ordinary, but there was something unusual about it. Unusual in that it was not found in nature. In the center of the stream there was a rock painted black. That was it. That was the art. I suppose I was supposed to use the word "genius". In those days and how I behaved in mixed company I kept my thoughts to myself and thought, I don't get it. But the worst thing was that I almost felt stupid and ignorant because I didn't get it. These days I just don't buy it, and most likely with the benefit of hindsight would have said so on the spot placing a boundary where one belonged. I didn't. What I did instead was share a story, a condensed version not to tax the listener, of what I thought art was here for. You could say it was a story told on my defense as an artist who just didn't get that black rock in the stream photo. Back then the story was condensed, but here within my personal journal I feel it is time to tell the whole story filled with all the detail I can muster because (if you haven't noticed) that is just the way I work. It's the story of a woman I once knew. It's a story of what one could call a high priestess within the economic religion of our modern age. It's the story of a powerful woman who broke down barriers and succeeded where others did not. It's the story of a woman who broke the mold to the benefit of all women. In fact, she broke the mold of reality not only for women but for the people whom she held close and I am grateful to be able to count myself among them. She was just one of those people... and her name was Jill Christie. 
It was in that infamous year of 1984 when I first had the pleasure and providence of meeting Jill. Introduced by my friend who was her cousin, our initial meeting took place in her Toronto office where she commissioned me to do her portrait. I don't recall how I priced it, if it was on the spot but at $600.00 it was definitely an under estimate which I realized not long after I started it. At the time I lived as a pauper in Toronto on Strachan Ave. just off Queen St., and upon one visit where she came to see how the portrait was progressing I told her I had under priced it, but even though it would have meant little loss to her pocketbook she held me to it. That's the way she was and it left an impression on me to try and avoid undercutting myself in the future. This has proven to be a larger task than most would assume. I have always thought less of myself than not. The financial aspect of this portrait job, as I found out in the not too distant future, turned out not to be the relevant benefit of this commission. Upon it's completion I gave it a title which I don't normally do with a commissioned portrait. I called it "Mind, Heart and Soul" in that order, representing the different aspects of Jill. I shared this with her when she accepted the finished piece and as far as I know she never shared this information with anyone. My paupers existence in the big city did not last long. I think I may have stuck it out for about a year until trying to hold the various tenants together in order to pay the rent proved impossible. So I left Toronto and moved, as many of us twentieth century kids do from time to time, back home with my parents. It was there that Jill contacted me once more to do another and as it turned out her last commission. Along with other homes she owned a penthouse apartment in Yorkville, what used to be hippy-ville in the day, but is now an upper class Toronto neighborhood. I took the train to the city and after meeting her at her office she took me to her apartment so she could show what it was she wanted done. The penthouse was made up of three floors with a skylight encircled by the two upper floors. Within this passageway which reached up to the skylight, there was a large wall approximately 16 feet high by 8 feet wide. It was here that she wanted a mural of Fish Boys and Water Babies. But in case she decided to move she wanted it done on something she could take with her. It took me three attempts before I got the idea she wanted. One of them, the second I believe, I turned into a pencil drawing called "Divine Union" because I personally liked it and didn't want it to be relegated to the sketch pile. On the third try, just like baseball, I connected with her vision. I wish I could show some pictures here of the finished piece but of the pictures I took I lent the negatives and prints out and they have never been returned. I can describe it. It was about ten feet high by four to six feet wide and in the center reaching up to the skylight I painted a vortex of swirling water. Within this scene are Fish Boys and Water Babies bearing the resemblance of many of her dear friends and God children. This commission was quite an ordeal from beginning to end. After building the frame from 2 by 6 inch redwood and stretching the canvas, I had nowhere else to paint it but in my parent's basement, my old bedroom which I had once shared with my brother growing up. Needless to say my parents basement was not ten feet high so the only option was to paint it sideways. Against the wall which still carries layers of wall murals my brother and I had painted on it, I produced Jill's vision. Upon completion and with the help of my brother we loaded it on a truck and took it to Jill's apartment and once there took it up while riding on top of the elevator. You see it wouldn't fit inside the box. The first time I saw it in the upright position was when I hung it, and after some nerve racking moments Jill told me she loved it. That part of the story having been told, now I must share a side of my relationship with Jill which to this day fills me with regret. In her desire to help me make a living at doing the art, she would at times find commission work for me to do. One such commission would spell the end of my communication with her. It was one of those jobs where I misquoted my estimate and this time by a long shot. As the work progressed I could see myself making three dollars, then two dollars, and so on an hour by the time it was finished. I called the client and informed him of what was happening and he was in no way sympathetic to my situation. Furthermore he laid into me on how the work was his, and so on, although he had not even paid a cent as a down payment. The part of my conversation with this man which stuck in my brain was "it's mine". If it happened today I would most likely find humor in this mine attitude for it would remind me of the seagulls from the movie Finding Nemo. If you haven't seen it that is their permanent chant, call and mantra, "mine, mine, mine..." But back then I found no humor in it at all and with that word mine, mine, mine... going through my head I saw only one option left to me. I took the piece of work which I had worked on for who knows how long a month maybe two or three, and destroyed it until there was not a shred left. What's mine is mine so there you go. That wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that I felt I had let my good friend Jill down and I could not find the courage to call her and tell her my side of the story. All I could think of was how I had under estimated her portrait, and that I had done it again and I should pay the price. And the price this time was that I lost contact with a good friend and one of the best patrons I have had to this date, Jill. The next time I would hear of Jill was through a phone call from my brother telling me she had been killed in a car accident not far from where I lived. ~ The manner in which she died is not exactly relevant except to say that she did have visions of dying in a violent car crash, or so I was told by people she shared this information with. At the time of her death I lived in a small town, Pontypool Ontario, and the spot where her car hit a patch of ice and skidded off the road was not ten minutes away along highway 115 heading towards Peterborough Ontario. The reason I had the call from my brother was; number one, I had lost contact with her and two because her family wanted my presence at the funeral. Now shortly before meeting Jill for the first time I had gone through what could be called, for lack of a better term, a spiritual awakening. Strange that I should feel apologetic for finding purpose for my life and art but that is what I am trying to get across here isn't it? What I feel art is here for and what purpose it serves humanity. Anyway, in my recent realization that energy is energy and with the ending of a certain configuration of matter this energy is released, I said to the one I once knew as Jill Christie, "You have to let me know that you are O.K." Call me crazy and deluded if you must but one day we will all see what happens when we enter the big sleep. If there are no other certified guarantees in life this one is secure, you are going to die. The day of the funeral had arrived and from my home in Pontypool I drove off with the thought that perhaps I would look into the coffin, see Jill and she would give me a wink. Just stupid thoughts, not really serious, and to tell you the truth I didn't really expect any kind of message from beyond the grave. I walked through the front door of the funeral home and as I peered in I notice that hanging over the closed coffin was Jill's portrait "Mind, Heart and Soul". And from my right I heard Jill's aunt greeting me, telling me Jill had requested it be hung there and that her coffin be closed. Naturally, being a soul ensnared within the seemingly limited confines of mortal existence, I thought she must have included this information in something she wrote down, like a will or something. Of course she had all this figured out and set up before she was killed suddenly in a tragically unexpected car accident. Shortly following my truly deluded perceptions I was taken into one of the back rooms of the funeral home and told the whole story. Here is how the story was told to me and you be the judge of truth or fiction. You be the judge of what purpose art may serve in a world where the spiritual reality of our existence has been extorted out of our powers of perception. Imagine a world where this knowledge I am about to share with you was common and known without doubt by all. Imagine a world without the main fear we all fear... the fear of death. Who would have the ability to control us through fear? No one, including some who practice this form of mass manipulation in our present day like Bush, The Pope or any number of individuals who would threaten us with death if we don't comply. Gandhi said he was willing to die but not to kill for a cause. Perhaps he knew without a doubt something most of us have forgotten. Yes... something, back to the story. One night shortly following her death a number of people felt the need to gather at Jill's Yorkville apartment. What the people in the back room of that funeral home told me was that it was highly unusual and strange because people who none of them knew were even drawn to this location. I heard mention of some strange Indian man being there, but the relevant person who was at that gathering where they were wondering how to proceed with the funeral was Jill's sister Caroline. No one knew quite what to do because Jill's death was so unexpected and sudden. Hence, nothing of how to proceed had been arranged as I had thought when I entered the funeral home on that day. As I was told in that darkened back room things began to get very strange. Especially with regard to Jill's sister and how she was behaving. Gradually she began to change, not only in her speech but also in her movements. In fact, she began to move and sound more like her sister Jill than herself. And that's when the strangeness truly began. Jill, this woman who was a dynamo in life and who's presence made you feel high like some magical potion, began to dictate her own funeral arrangements. Believe it or not but the truth of it does not require your acceptance of it. This really happened and I believe it beyond a shadow of a doubt. These were her requests. First, that her coffin be a closed one because of the nature of her accident and how it had disfigured her face. I guess vanity will follow us wherever we go. Secondly, that the portrait done by Petrus Boots called "Mind, Heart and Soul" be displayed over the coffin. Along with that, that a Fish Boy statue she had purchased in Mexico and which was the initial inspiration for the mural I did be placed next to it. Also, that a particular bible passage be read. I can hear the skeptics already and if they want to "argue for their limitations" to quote Richard Bach then they can go right ahead. But don't include me in your dark limited interpretations of what is real and what is not. There is always more than one side to a coin and we live in a universe with multidimensional possibilities. I asked Jill to let me know if she was O.K. ...did that spark her transcendental feat? I don't know and frankly I don't care. All I care is that this event took place. No one but her and I knew the title of her portrait. As I've said, I don't normally give commissioned portraits titles. This was an exception and she seemed specific in mentioning the title in her channeled transmission. She could have simply said the portrait by Petrus Boots, because as far as I know she had never had another one done. Least of all, not by me. And then there was the bible passage she wanted read. Again, the request was specific and went something like this. She said they would find the bible in the night stand beside her bed in her Newcastle home. Within this bible they would find the passage marked. I was told no one, not even her mother who lived in the house even knew that she had a bible, let alone one in that spot with a passage clearly marked. But low and behold when they went to find it, there it was. As far as funerals go, and I would hazard to guess that there's not one which can possibly be considered normal, this was the strangest one I have ever been to. Because along with the grief of a family losing a daughter there was the other side of it. The thoughts in everyone's mind that perhaps death wasn't the end and that there was more to come for all of us. Now... if I could capture that eternal truth, translate it through pigment, stone, or whatever medium, and have all who view the work know it to be true within their heart of hearts, well... that would be something. Even if it lasted for just a moment, I would accept that. The portrait Mind, Heart and Soul of my friend Jill Christie will always be a reminder of what is true and possible. That is what I feel the purpose of true art is. Art is here to remind us of who we truly are. Art is here to connect us and remind us of our Divine Humanity. For some reason, a picture of a rock painted black in a stream does not do it for me. Not even a whole book filled with numerous pictures of rocks painted black in streams can do it for me. And if I recall that first visit with the neighbors with any accuracy that was the case. It was one of those books or shows where there are variations of a theme and instead of titles they get numbered. You know, black rock in stream # 1, black rock in stream # 2 and so on, until the next book or show, where it's red rock in puddle #1, red rock in puddle # 2 and so on. I guess I must be stupid not to get it. Perhaps it is because I have never gone to any art school worth mentioning within a curriculum vitae. But then short of this journal and my biography page on this site I have no curriculum vitae to include my art school history in, if I should ever acquire it. Then again, at 45 going on 46 I guess my time for schooling is over and if I am to buy into that world, my life as an artist never began or was and never will be. Which brings me back once again to that self-portrait idea I've had in my darker hours. The one where I stand in front of a canvas put a gun to my head pull the trigger splattering my brains and scull in an array of textures and colors in various intensities. To hell with it and them, somehow I will persist. When educated people criticize me for whatever or using photos as reference in order to produce my work I will say, what about that rock guy, did he not use photographs in order to show his work? Or if working from photographs is not to be allowed then why and how can galleries have showings of photography, digitally altered or not. What and who decides what technology can and should be used where and when? Is it the art critics, the art professors, the art jurors, the gallery owners, the museum directors, the art grant granters? Who? Who makes these decisions? I'm beginning to sound like a owl which is not bad for they do have a way of seeing through the darkness. If producing something realistic and true is taboo then I will just say fuck you. Because I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling less because I do more. If that makes any sense. I mean come on. What does it take to get noticed for doing something that's time consuming, meticulous and carries with it some meaning and purpose. Do I have to blow my head off and if I did would I be guaranteed anyone would notice? Probably not. Anyway, after that night at the neighbors I came to the conclusion that there really wasn't much point in sharing company. And until we were questioned as to why we didn't come around, I didn't give it too much thought. Out of some feeling of guilt or neighborly duty we hung out some more until eventually the one who questioned my reasons for keeping my distance became the one who now avoids and never comes round. And this really pisses me off because hey... you can't fire me. I quit. I'm bound to run into more troubles for expressing my opinions here but what else can one do. My most recent run in with the modern cash crop art police was at a meeting of various artists which I am bound to attend. In it, we gathered around the table had to share how our sales and numbers compared to the year previous. Ours were down but I said that it really didn't bother me. My reasons why are personal and of no one else's concern but I have mentioned it here in this journal how I feel about selling out my art. And furthermore, I'm at the point in my art career where to get caught up in worrying about how much money I am making or not will only lead me down suicide road. But never mind that, one of the more zealous members at the table decided it was his duty to lay into me about being professional, like I was not. And perhaps I'm not if being professional equates with how many billions are served or sold. Or here is another one I heard lately with regard to the well schooled lot of artists. Someone who works with found objects creating collages uses this line," I don't create the art, I let the art create itself." My reply to that, "Well why don't you fuck off then and leave art alone." It's a joke folks... and a funny one at that, makes me chuckle every time I say it and that's got to be healthier than feeling like the comic book guy when he said as the missile flew over head, "ooh, I've wasted my life." Thanks Jill ~ † November 7, 2005 With my latest journal entry of November 3rd I noticed that I have been at this experiment with truth (to coin a phrase and book title from Gandhi) for about a year now. It all began so long ago with the infamous pics of George digging for gold and proving how literate he can be by magically being able to read the book titled "America" upside down. Now with Cheney's dog Scooter in the dog house and George's pooch Rove still being investigated, I would hope that the picture of George reading could be turned upside down ... putting America right and the criminals on their heads. But I dare not hope, for I have done so in the past, only to run into that old snare of disappointment. So instead of hope, here are some new unflattering pictures of George, there just can't be enough of them. 
This is one of my creations borrowing from one of my favorite characters of the past, the weasel from the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons. Stefanie has said it a number of times when seeing George on TV (if she doesn't storm out of the room in protest) that Dubya's snickery laugh reminds her of the "yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah... yeah, slurp, slurp", sound that old weasel used to make. And you have to admit, it all does fit. Just have a close look at Bush Jr. sometime, that's if you can stomach it. Study those beady, shifty little eyes, the snickering little laugh, (usually at his own jokes) and while you're doing that, take a look around the world asking this question. Who has their greedy little paws in most everyone else's hen house? The answer requires no great stretch of the imagination. I searched the net for some sound bites of the weasel and Bush's laugh so one could make the comparison for themselves but I gave up looking. I don't have time for that nonsense. In fact, some who may have kept up on reading my journal entries would have noticed that George and the boys (and that includes Condy) have drifted out of range lately. The simple answer as to why this is, is because I have just grown bored of him and his antics. Besides, the dicks of the world just seem to get too much of the air time already and why should I contribute what little I have? I have other fish to fry. They are closer to home and affect me at my core. That core, being my ability to create and believe in my art. This journal is the last thread which keeps my expression primed, in hopes that one day I will once again feel justified in producing another painting. In my youth I never thought I would drift this low. 
Well... fry those fish I will, and if you don't appreciate the smell there is not much I can do about it. I'm just hanging on. But before I get to that ... some info, and another picture I found on the net of our favorite son. This one I found funny, disturbing and slightly sickening all at once. George as Golem, how fitting. Also... if you would like the one I did for download just click on the image and a new window will open with a larger version. Right click, save as. For those who have no idea of who the weasel of my youth was, below is a picture of the original, created for Warner Brothers by Robert McKimson. I seem to recall, that back then, I liked this little critter so much I even painted him on one of my many soapbox-go-kart creations. Sooo... was my misspent youth, racing cars, cartoons, art and dreaming of one day driving faster then most.
~ † November 3, 2005 Satellite, Cigarettes and Other Smokables Satellite, cigarettes and other smokables; the title I give this entry. Now you might ask, what do these seemingly varied elements of consumption have in common? Number one on the list of similarities is... they all cost. They all cost in more ways than one but for now I want to concentrate on the money element of their expenditure. This is what it has come down to in my world, the time has come to make some choices which I have done my best to avoid for too long. You see, with a long cold winter ahead of us and no foreseeable income coming in to support the way of life I have grown accustomed to, changes have to be made. Number one on the list of things to go is our media connection via satellite. Eighty dollars a month, and I ask you, for what? So I can get frustrated scanning through the guide finding nothing I want to devote my limited life energy too but watching it anyway? "Because you love TV." the slogan used by Star Choice. Who do they think they're fooling? Me I guess, at least for the last few years or so. But I will tell you, not with that slogan, if anything being told that "I love TV" only made me want to turn it off. There are some weird twists of irony in the new age of media delivery. Having to pay to have it brought to your door you better watch it because if you don't you're wasting your money. So what you end up doing is wasting your time instead. And you waste your time in more ways than one. There is time wasted in order to make the money to pay for it and time wasted watching something you normally would not because you have paid for it. Good God, sometimes it feels like the salesmen of shit have me by the balls and they're just twisting tighter with every dollar I give them. So with my balls in a vice there was nothing left to do but look down and manually turn that lever to the loosen position, undoing what had been done. I phoned Star Choice and after another half hour or so of time wasted pressing buttons and being put on hold, I told the customer representative to disconnect us. With that said, I was asked why and my answer was, "because I can no longer justify the cost." I could have gone further berating them over their ad slogan and the money they waste (my money by the way) advertising at me but why bother, it would just be a waste of my time and energy. She offered to cut the cost by five to ten dollars a month I said no thank you. Which raises the question, if they could afford to cut the cost by five to ten dollars why was I paying it in the first place? I have to admit I kind of miss Anderson Pooper, Lucifer Dobbs and the rest of the CNN cast of characters but what can you do? I'm sure they will get along without me and I know for sure they won't miss me. And to be honest, CNN was the default choice when all other viewing options where ruled out. So that's it then, will we survive the winter in Apsley Ontario with perhaps three or so channels to choose from via aerial? I don't know. All I know is, I love my daughter and I love my family, not TV. A nice irony is... the one channel that Samsara watched most when we had satellite comes in the clearest via aerial. TV Ontario, our local public television channel offers kids programming commercial free. My only fear in a world geared toward the bottom line is, for how long? Man... could I use a cigarette! There is something about writing and smoking that go together like, well... cigarettes and coffee. You type and write, then you sit back, having a puff and sip while going over what you've written. As of November 1st, that is no more. After, lets see... I started smoking tobacco at age 14, continued smoking until two days ago, I'm now 45, 46 at the end of November, so that's 32 years where my friend Nick and I have hung out together, inseparable. He has outlasted every other friend I have ever known. And to tell you the truth I will miss him more than any other friend I have known. For unlike most friends he has never lied to me, I knew from the start he was from the wrong side of the tracks. He's never left me hanging in thought, walking away without explanation on why he left, like some people I've known. In short, he has never deceived me, treated me unkind or judged me but now with an uncertain winter season ahead it's time to go our separate ways. With a pack of Drum tobacco (my preferred smoke) costing about $12.00 following taxes and that lasting the two of us approximately a day or three, we will save about $180.00 a month. And that they say is the poor man's pleasure, hardly. How long can this separation anxiety last anyway? I don't know because I have never felt the real need to quit before. Most of the government ads and health related propaganda material has only added to my desire in keeping my dubious friendship. You have to remember this friendship is one of a rebellious nature and big brother telling me not to, only inspires the opposite. Despite having said, "so long", I continue to believe that tobacco remains the scapegoat for a wider second hand pollution problem. I've thought it often and said it once in a while, "You think second hand smoke is causing cancer and killing people? Ok then, I'll smoke this cigarette while you suck on that exhaust pipe and we'll see who's dead first." No one has ever tried to commit suicide by way of cigarette, the same cannot be said for car exhaust. And while I'm at it, the list of killer commodities within our society is endless, oil, coal, meat, prescription drugs, you name it, eventually they will kill us all. But who wants to look at that, because we all have to get somewhere and eat something and if we can do it fast in the biggest gas guzzling "Canyonaro" truck, all the better. My question is, why don't they put nasty old pictures (like they do on tobacco here in Canada) on all this other stuff? For example: MacDonald's hamburger packages could have close-ups of cirrhosis affected livers and cholesterol coated hearts or maybe a thousand pound Ronald in desperate need of a good diet. On the big honking trucks where there is plenty of room for some nice murals, perhaps we could see oil coated wildlife, a human lung after prolonged exposure to fuel exhaust or perhaps the shattered remains of an Iraqi child's head. As far as meat in general, (which I gave up twenty or so years ago, thank God) just a picture of a feed lot where cows stand shoulder to shoulder knee deep in their own shit for most of their lives eating cannibalized antibiotic-laced renderings... that should do the trick. I would hope that that would be enough to turn anyone off eating contaminated meat and meat by-products. Lastly, pharmaceuticals, what a grand industry we have here. Just listening to the list of possible side effects should give anyone pause. But if your erection lasts longer than four hours perhaps you should not have gone to the doctor in the first place to get that prescription filled, never mind going to see one after it's too late. Speaking of pharmaceuticals leads me to the other friend which I have decided to part company with because the cost has out weighed the benefit. With the thought of not being able to buy the wood necessary to build my daughter the tree house I have promised her, how can I justify laying out $200.00 or more for a bag of weed. Mary like her partner in crime Nick has been with me since I was 14 but unlike Nick she has come and gone over the years. This sporadic nature of our friendship more than likely has to do with the social illegality of her presence and that I could not go to the corner store to pick her up when the need arose. Why this should be, has always and will forever confound me. And despite having said good-bye to Mary, I still feel the need to defend the character of an old friend who has served me over the years. It amazes me what the stamp of illegality can do to define to the wider population what is right and what is wrong. As I look at it, it does not really have anything to do with reality or even health issues for that matter. Let's see, we have Nick and Al (alcohol) two elements of the society which have acquired and retained legal status for existence. Meanwhile poor old Mary the least dangerous of these elements remains the illegal alien with no hope of ever acquiring a visa? Does this make any sense? Mary remains illegal, Nick is on the way out, but not before we squeeze the last remaining tax dollar out of the poorest pockets of our society, meanwhile the worst of the bunch Al is still open for advertising. All this brings to mind the story of an old friend of mine and this one is real, a human friend. I had known him since the days when all my addictions introduced themselves to me. We shared all these, drinking, smoking, toking and miscellaneous other mind altering experimentals. You could say we had fun and you would be right. But like all good times these ones came to an end and there came a day when I looked around and decided enough. With that choice we drifted apart and went down separate roads of discovery. I awakened to a spiritual trip and he took the high road of heroin. But you know what, with all the stuff he put his body through, from cigarettes, to pot, to heroin, the thing that finally killed him in the end was that totally legal almost glorified substance, alcohol. He screwed up his liver and although he gave up and kicked most everything else including heroin, a painfully addictive drug, he could never stop himself from drinking. That's a true story and that's reality. So please, don't judge things on whether they carry a legal stamp or not... it doesn't define good from bad. If it is one thing I have noticed when I have walked divergent paths from my old friend Mary, is that the world has a way of crashing in when she's not around. That is to say, I become clear and see with greater definition what is going on. Now... this can be good and it can be bad, depending upon your point of view. I mean the truth is nice but does anyone really want to see it on a regular basis? This is how marijuana has had it's effect on me. If I haven't seen Mary for a while and I have a toke I get high and for an hour or so I see things clearer then if I hadn't smoked. For example: if I am working on something artistic, technically I see things I didn't when I was straight. I've always enjoyed this part of her presence. The trouble is, it doesn't last and when the effect wears off, consciously I'm somewhere a little lower then when I started. And that is when the negative cycle of our relationship starts, where you need to smoke more and more and end up feeling this positive effect less and less. I don't care what the Rastas say, this is the truth. In the end, the effect which was positive is now somewhere along the lines of an anti-depressant like Prozac. The world is covered in a haze of smoky rainbows and facing the truth of things becomes more or less irrelevant. Nice place to stay these days, if one can afford it. But if that is the desired effect, then you might as well go see the family doctor tell him you are depressed because the world is depressing and have a legal prescription filled. Hey... if you live in a country with mental health insurance you may not even have to pay for it. A brave new world. So come on folks, who's keeping Mary in prison? It could only be Merck, Pfizer and all the rest of the various so called legal drug dealing agencies who make it their business to keep the population happily hard and numb. But if my ultimate goal was to become comfortably numb I would have to say marijuana would be my choice of anti-depressant. If I had a choice, which because of financial constraints I no longer have, I would choose to help the local neighborhood grower pay his rent, rather than line the pockets of pharmaceuticals who's major share holders are war mongers such as Cheney, Rumsfeld and no doubt countless other criminals. Drugs are drugs, the legal stamp of governmental approval does not mean a thing. So that's the end of that. As I mentioned, marijuana is the least harmful or addictive but because of it's illegality it's the most dollar costly friend that I now say good-bye to. I suppose the latest run of hanging out with her began in earnest when my partner Stefanie was diagnosed with cancer a few years back. Mary helped to ease the pain of chemo. She is now clear of it, but again, who would be against medical marijuana as a means to ease the pain of people who suffer? It could only be the people who make drug dealing and peoples pain their business. It could only be the ones making profits beyond which I will ever see in my lifetime at the expense of other peoples pain. And that reality is depressing but from this moment on I choose to face it head on undiluted by my preferred medications and unaided by crutches. I just pray I don't fall too far. Two days and man could I use a cigarette... ~ Note: To reach other entries of the past just use the Index on the right by choosing the date, a flyout title will also appear to help in your inquiry. Or click here for Page 2 of the Journal. ~
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