Author: Nic Olson

I watch several movies a week. There are some amazing websites that have revolutionized how movies are distributed, and I plan to take full advantage of them so that millionaire filmmakers and actors get only my minimal amount of tax dollars that is inevitably filtered unto them because we should know by now that the difference between any sort of media and the government and companies that produce your daily ‘essentials’ like toothbrushes and deodorant, is none.

I watched ‘Antichrist‘ last night. If you are into semi-pornographic obscure-as-hell horror movies, and Willem Dafoe, I would recommend it highly.

I watched ‘Exit Through The Gift Shop‘ tonight. If you are into documentaries, street art, mystery and weird people, I would recommend it highly. If you don’t like British men with concealed faces and altered voices, or huge mutton chops on men with French accents, I would not recommend it at all.

I watched ‘Curling‘ last week, but I paid for this one in theatres. If you are into Quebecois men with moustaches in the winter who work at bowling alleys and motels, I would recommend it highly.

I didn’t understand these movies, two of them at least, and the other I understood to be a story of art, which I also don’t understand.

In French class today I had to express the devastation of half a million Riders fans, in a language I suck at more than this one. No one understood, and it wasn’t my French that was the cause.

A friend was telling me how he missed his family, and how he moved here from really far away for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. I said, like anyone would say when someone is pining, that I understood. He assured me that I didn’t.

I will likely never understand art, all the forms of it, the inspirations behind it, and the business side of it, and who decides what is good.
I will never understand economics or markets, nor will I ever want to.
My classmates will never understand a real football team, no matter how hard I try to explain in broken French.
I will never understand human beings, and their nature, and the things they do, and the reasons behind the things they do.

Rule. The things we don’t understand are not stupid, and nor are we for not understanding them. We are stupid when we hate the things we don’t understand. Enjoying things we don’t understand makes us better, less ignorant people. And we should do it more often.

It is possible to enjoy something you don’t understand. All it takes is patience, tolerance and open eyes. I enjoyed writing this, for example.

I hate this man.
Last year’s reflections.

Just spent an hour and a half writing a something I’d been meaning to write for a while but it came off more opinionated than I wanted it to. I feel that people somehow return to this URL to feel better about themselves and their lives and their decision making skills and their living situations, and to hear opinions on trivial matters like throwing out bread, and showering, and spending money and about how I sleep on the floor and get eye diseases from things laying eggs in my eyes. But when it comes to real life matters they read real life texts, like the Leader Post or Robert Munsch. While I mull it all over angrily in my mind, sweeping dirt off my floor/bed with my hand and eating carrots for lunch.

So here is my dose of real life for you:

Tolerance. The ashram believes that the principal faiths of the world constitute a revelation of Truth, but as they have all been outlined by imperfect man they  have been affected by imperfections and alloyed with untruth. One must therefore entertain the same respect for the religious faiths of others as one accords to one’s own. Where such tolerance becomes a law of life, conflict between different faiths becomes impossible, and so does all effort to convert other people to one’s own faith. One can only pray that the defects in the various faiths may be overcome, and that they may advance, side by side, towards perfection.    -M.K. Gandhi

Tolerance is more than religious. It is human responsibility. Love is hard to do. I find it hard to love people because I find most of them unlovable, self-involved, brain dead beings, like myself. But tolerance is, should be, easy. And when tolerance becomes a law of life, conflict becomes impossible. Whoa. Easier than love and maybe more effective.

I dreamt that I was in a Rider related riot during the Western Finals, throwing cans of beer at the professional sports’ worst referees, when an old grey haired man threw me to the ground and told me that I was destined for the Brotherhood. I haven’t read 1984 in several months, but if Winston Smith has taught me anything, it is that torture and brainwash starts with the Brotherhood contacting you in your dreams. Soooo, it should be a good winter.

And finally, a photo of my room, complete with my handiwork of stolen dumpster insulation in between the constantly rattling windows. The caveman discovers fire.

Don’t know where you want to raise your family? What about the family after that one? Is the city too filled with bedbugs and ethnic food, but most small towns not exclusive enough? We understand. Dave welcomes you! (if you pass the screening process).

Dave is a small heart-filled town in the northwest of Manitoba. Founded in November 2010 by several revolutionaries who envisioned a new sustainable place to call home, chin-deep in culture and character.

I invite you to consider purchasing a prestigious piece of land in the growing community, but do so quickly, as there are very limited properties and a very strict application process. We want to start a brand new community based on the principles of veganism, carnivorism, and hockey.

Town updates, law changes, cultural events and photos will be posted often on the Dave, Manitoba Website.

Thus far the City Council is composed of the following people:

Eric Goud – Architectural Design, Artistic Direction, Advertising and Word Play
Pat Rota – Treasurer, Factory Owner
Nicholas Olson – Journalist, Soy-Milkman
Courtney Boe – Mayor, Barmaid
Jacynthe Vaillancourt – International Relations, Crepe Chef

See you in Dave!

Sunday. Grice-Mullen dropped the ball. Jim lifted his eyes from his New York Times Sunday crossword and asked rhetorically, ‘What the hell was that?’ I responded by pulling my jersey over my head and sighing in relief that Freeman landed on the ball. Louie snickered and said something about how the Alouettes are amazing. I shook my head. We won the game. We will win the game.
Nic versus Louie, Saskatchewan versus Montreal, Good versus Evil, next Sunday. Revenge: Part 3, coming soon.

Saturday. A dream since I was a child. Habs vs Leafs in Montreal on a Saturday night. Knowing he was in the building, I could hear Bob Cole in my head, frantically manipulating the language to make an exciting game even more exciting. Couldn’t have gone much better than it did. Dreams do come true. And sometimes they fit in better than you thought they could.

We woke up thinking crepes were a good idea. They were. We walked the entire day, seeing Habitat 67, river surfing, and things that should be seen.

Friday. Got to Montreal at 6pm on Friday night from a day at a house in Kanata, just in time to run home, get the tickets to the Tim Barry, Cavaliers, Northcote show, and just in time to have an impromptu street meet with two Gouds and a slice of pizza. The show was perfect.

Thursday. Left school at 12:45 and went to play soccer. Scored a goal. Left soccer early to catch a bus. Arrived in Ottawa for Tim Barry, Cavaliers, Northcote. Perfect show. Great talks. New things.

This weekend was too good. I can never complain again.