Category: Uncategorized

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.

On any walk in St-Henri you will walk past piles of shit. Half of the time you won’t be able to tell if it is human faeces or just large, horse-sized dogs. Some of the time you will watch the excrement dropped from the dog’s body. And the rest of the time it will be a small black plastic bag tied neatly and then promptly stomped on like it was on fire, squirting dog shit in every direction that the bag tore. The process of picking your dog’s crap up with a plastic bag, tying the bag neatly with a bow and then proceeding to two-foot stomp it is new to me, but it is a wide spread phenomenon in St-Henri. I could see it catching on.

My new home has thin walls and thin floors. I was watching hockey while sitting on the floor one day, trying to slide more blanket under my ass because my tailbone was starting to get sore from sitting on the floor for more than half of the day. I heard a guy in the apartment under mine, voice clear as if he was in my room, ‘Ahhh, no. Ohh, man. There is dog shit everywhere. Shit! There’s dog shit all over the bed. Fuck. Nooo!’ Birthing children and raising dogs is a thankless job. Probably because no one wants to thank you for filling the streets and landfills with more shit and shit related merchandise.

My room smelled like a litterbox when I moved in and I’ve been burning incense religiously since. I have a small shrine on my inoperative built-in heater with a family photo, my grandmother’s painting and a stack of books. It smells great, but is colder than the coldest parts of hell. After a few days of renewed cold and incense free room, subtle scents of the ingrained smell of cat excrement returns. It is saturating my pores.

Shit is a delicate subject, and a delicate word. I couldn’t say this word in front of my mother as many times as I’ve typed it here, but psychologically the best way to get someone accustomed to a new song or new word they don’t like is to repeat it over and over. And I couldn’t possibly write an entire article about ‘poop’ and I quickly ran out of politically correct synonyms for ‘stools’.

But the doggy bag stomping still reeks in my mind. How close can we get to completing a positive task before we decide to do exactly the opposite of what we are in the process of doing?
It is like washing your car and then somehow deciding that if you used your own urine it would work better.
Or like cooking a healthy meal of vegetables and rice and proceeding to cover it in ranch dressing or melted butter.
Or like holding the door open for an elderly lady and then deciding to kick out her knees when she walks past.
Or like painting a picture to fundraise for the Defunding of the Arts.
Or like volunteering in a developing country and half way through deciding it would be a great place to open a large bank chain.

The incomprehensibility of human nature is as simple as shit in plastic bags.

This photo is related to the Photo of the Month for October. These are the people that ran Delhi Dhaba. That’s all I am going to say about that.

We are everywhere.