Balls of Rice

Category: Uncategorized

  • The Traveling of Material Objects

    I often look at my things and think of where they’ve gone. Where they had been before they arrived at where they are now. The road they traveled to get here in ‘the now’. For example, my waterbottle. I once had a Nalgene bottle, red, the ones that give you cancer, alzheimers, cancer again, and an empty head for believing that crap. Anyways, Jeremy and I won a doubles tennis tournament in Yellowknife and with the gift certificate for an overpriced sporting goods store called Overlanders I bought a red Nalgene. It was one of the new ones with the unbreakable lid.

    I took this from Yellowknife around the world with me twice. It had been to four countries with me, been through a lot of drops and throws, stickers added, stickers scratched off, a Swollen Members sticker that lasted forever and lots of dirty water held within its cancer emanating walls. Then one day at work I filled it with water and set it outside in the snowbank as a refrigerator. I retrieved it an hour later and it was 75% ice. I dropped it on the floor to shatter the ice and avail the water to my thirsty lips. The first drop didn’t do it, so I dropped it again. It broke. It cracked on the bottom and peed out water when I opened the lid, but didn’t pee out water when it was closed. I nursed it (or literally let it nurse me, as I sucked water from the open wound), and now it sits in my room as a trophy. A tribute to all the great waters I drank in the past two years. And I just can’t get rid of it. I think of all the Indian villages that thing has seen. Think of all the Canadian cities that bottle has driven through. Think of all the scars that it had collected through its years of service. That would be like throwing away a very transparent and hip-less girlfriend.
    I also have this pair of underwear. You may have heard of them. The Lucky Reds. They came from Hong Kong at least two years ago from Jeremy. Jeremy, Kris and I all have a pair. Mine have traveled with me to six different countries, swam in two different oceans and won the Riders a Grey Cup. They have literally supported my business in the sweatiest Indian train, in the most uncomfortable floor I’ve slept on. And I think of all the amazing things they have done and all the amazing things they’ve seen. They are better than me and all they do is cup balls.
    I have hundreds of items that I think about and realize how far they’ve traveled. How much they’ve done. A pen. A shirt. A hat. A backpack. These things that mean so much but are worth so little. Even to me, really. 
    When I think about it, I realize how useless these things are. They hold memories that I can hold myself. These things, although they are amazing and well traveled, although they are that much better for seeing what I’ve seen, are worth nothing. Then it makes me think about the things I own that haven’t traveled anywhere. Things that sit in my parent’s house and never get moved but are so important. Things that have never seen the red dirt of another continent, or felt the humidity of somewhere not so far north. If my well traveled possessions are worth so little, then these things that are not well experienced are truly useless. Trash. These things that tickle me when I see them, but then callous me when I realize what they actually are. 
    I have been around the world a bit. But I focus on the things I own that have traveled with me. I tell people of their travels and their adventures, but keep my own a secret. The things you own end up owning you.

  • Late Bloomer.

    I’m here again. Physically and mentally. 

    Physically, I’m back in Yellowknife. A place that I have been before, twice, and after the second time I almost said, “I will never go back there.” I don’t know why I almost said this, probably just so I could add another city to my most hated list. But I like it here. Constant daylight, expensive goods, no easy way out. Somewhat like prison. I went to prison for the first time today. Seems like a nice place to spend 25 to life.
    Mentally, I’m back in the same place. I guess I never left this place, but it feels like I’m just returning back. At times I feel like I’m ten times more ‘mature’ than everyone else, but then I reach this place where I feel like I’m five years behind everyone else. A place where Twitters and books of faces and small pieces of plastic ruin the ways of communication. A place where things are more important than experiences or real good times. A place where planning the unknown future is of utmost importance, even though our ideas of it don’t matter one damn bit. 
    Screw everyone else. I’ll freeload and be homeless until I die, as long as it means I keep my soul. I’ll bloom late as long as I am not the one brutally deflowered by the world’s giant dong of a mindset. But I can’t help but want to give in. 

  • Let’s Straighten a Few Things Out.


    The first day of the rest of my life has finally arrived. Coming June 18th I’ll no longer be the owner of this monstrous Muppet nose that inhibits fresh air from being cleaned by my nose hairs and entering my lungs. No longer will I wake up with a mouth drier than a camel’s ass, caused by the ever flowing fountain that is my drooling mouth. Nose job, June 18th. If you didn’t know, someday between the age of eight and twenty, I broke my nose, at least once. There is a serious blockade in my left nostril from a large protruding piece of cartilage that has been a friend more than anything for the past ten years. I have picked at it and stroked it over ten million times in my life. 

    I’m at that point where there is really nothing I can say to accurately express where I am. This isn’t a bad place, nor is it a good place. It’s a place, though. Soon to be a noseless place. A place where others don’t really understand because you can’t explain it to them. One reason that it is not possible to explain is because I don’t know where I am either. I feel like I’m in a big empty field that has a few trees in it. In this feeling I look around and see golden grass, a blue sky, then I look to my left and see someone shooting a firework at me telling me to wake up. That actually happened. My shirt was on fire.

    Everything makes less and less sense to me, and my dreams become more and more obscure and unreachable. Buy things, I don’t get it (the senseless). Start a band, impossible (the obscure). Now that I’m back home, it’s great and I actually don’t want to go back (right now), I’m back in this zone. In football it’s called the Red Zone, but when the Rider’s were in their Grey Cup winning season I called it the Green Zone (they were unreal). Within 20 paces of where I want to be, but the three tries just isn’t going to be enough. 

  • February – Present

    Here is India through my finger and my iPod. Easier than words. Better than words. 

    My first drawing. Looking out my window at hundreds of men taking a piss in my direction, with shops in the background. 
    I’d say I spent a good 24hours total looking like this.
    True statement. If you are a real girl, anyways.
    I think my greatest triumph as an artist. Deep societal meaning as well. Deeeeep.
    Bangalore had more stray dogs than I’ve ever seen. The news paper said more than 300,000. That’s more than we have people in Regina. That’s a lot of rabies.

  •  

    They sell everything on the train. Pianos, sexy DVDs, chai, sexy times with eunuchs, all with giant rats crawling at your feet. 

    They said that Kerala was ‘God’s Own Country’.. This is what I thought of that.

    I was on a 45 hour train ride. A man in front of me was wearing a nice pair of acid wash disco jeans with a patch that looked like this on the leg. I figured the hockey gods were sending me some love. Meaning Detroit will not win, nor will Carolina. I’m calling it. Thanks hockey gods.

    This has nothing to do with India, but I drew it while I was there, and I thought it was funny.

    I drew this one in Korea. My friend Seong Bin was joining the Korean Air Force when I was there. He had to do athletic tests and answer questions about Canada. Now he shoots down North Korean rockets.

  • Phenomenon

    There has been a few wild phenomena (plural of phenomenon, is phenomenons or phenomena? hell if i know.) in the past few weeks that I’ve noticed in my travels. Every city I leave, the day I leave, it rains hard. Right now is not really the rainy season of India. Sure it may rain sometimes, but not often.. Something is happening. The country is crying for me, or trying to flush me from it’s veins, or it just knows how badly i need a shower. I dont know, but it’s a phenomenon.

    Also for the past two weeks, my stomach has not been as ironclad as i brought it up to be. It hasn’t been sloppy beyond repair, or really painful at all, but it’s been weird. Anyways, whenever I need to utilize the latrine, my mouth begins to salivate and give a tinny flavour that i’ve never experienced before. This happens just seconds before my stomach turns and gets slightly angry. Soon I’ll hone this skill and be able to tell when other people have stomach issues, then I’ll be able to tell through salivation when danger is going to occur. I’ll be one of the X-men. The crappiest salivating X-man ever. What a phenomenon.

    The final phenomenon that i’ve encountered, is that I’m in Kerala right now. Phenomenal. Mostly this is phenomenal because I’ve already been in India for 3.5 months. Phenomenal.

    I’m going to the beach.

  • Ariel and the Downfall of Mankind

    For some reason I caught myself singing ‘Part of that World’ from the Little Mermaid. Then I listened to what she and I were singing.

    First she lists all the things she owns (thingamabobs, whozits, whatzits, forks).
    Then she begins to complain that she wants more. (something, something else, I want more!) and so on. No, she doesn’t want more from life, she wants legs, so she can marry a prince and get more things. It’s what every woman wants.

    This is what some of the male part of my generation and 100% of the female part of my generation grew up on. I mean, I don’t remember the movie exactly. All I remember is a fat lady, a king with a trident, the priest that got a boner (youtube it), and how hot Ariel was. And this song of course.
    Either way, no matter what happens in this world, the so-called recession was caused by children watching this movie, and basing their lives on these words.

    The train is my new life. Three (at least) more train rides. Rats biting my face, cochroaches eating my food, and so on. The last train was unreal. A very feminine male, dressed very femininely (I don’t know what to call her/him) came and sat next to me. Very close to me, and put his/her hand on my thigh. He/She asked for 10 rupees, showing me with her fingers how many ten was, which comforted my and my inner thigh. I shook my head. He/She said it again. I shook my head again. Then I thought he/she was leaning in towards me for something (we almost made out), but he/she got up and left to grope some Indian men. This train also had large piano keyboard salesmen, dvd salesmen, and everything else you’ve ever wanted salesmen. Amazing.
    The train I rode before this, I met some men that asked me if Canada was a Free Sex country. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I asked what that meant. They thought that in Canada you could go up to any woman and ask for sex, and that they’d say yes. I mean, Canadian girls are trashy, but that might be a little far. I guess that is what we get for having kissing in movies.

    Slutty Canadians.

  • Lyric of the Month: Deathbeds

    Last night I had a dream and in this dream I had discovered the secret of time travel. It was complex but truly simple. If I could remember I’d tell you by showing up at your deathbed to say that there’s still time. You can make up for your wasted life!

    Starting Sunday a journey begins. Google Earth it if you don’t know the places. It’s quite a journey.

    Guwahati to Siliguri.
    Siliguri to Kolkata.
    Kolkata to Chennai.
    Chennai to Pondicherry.
    Chennai to Kerala (Trichir, Cochin, Trivandrum/Thiruvananthapuram. Yeah, what?)
    Kerala to Delhi.
    Delhi to Chandigardh.
    Delhi to Home.

    Lyric: Propagandhi – Last Will and Testament

    Here in the few remaining moments we have left, just what do you propose we say in our defense? That much was decided before any one of us were born. Nothing more than objective observers to the madness, and through up your hands in sadness? We’re powerless to change anything anyways. So just lay back upon your deathbed and gaze idiotically back up the chain of command from which we recieve our directives. I guess it’s just common sense to preach what ought to be but to ensure it never is in the present tense.

  • Impending Doom

    Busy times. I’m in Guwahati. I spent one night at a friends again, sleeping with goats and a Bihu festival. I danced. I ate. I laughed. Then I spent three nights in the heaven that is Kalapani, Guwahati, Assam, India. But this time I did not dance. I did however, eat lots. As well as laugh. I also, nearly died. April 17th, 2009 is my new death birthday. Or Not-Death Birthday. Or Near Death Day. Something. All I know is that myself and a man named Jiten should have died, if it weren’t for an incredible feat of strength, a few long toes, and one single branch. And my lucky Habs hat.

    Remember that time that I said I could feel that I was going to die soon? Well this was it. This was where I was meant to die, impaling myself on a large rock, and being eaten by the local tiger. I called my death a few months ago, predicting that it would come in India. April 17 was the day it was supposed to happen, but something went wrong, and I’m still alive. Here’s what happened.

    These photos explain it all. The first picture shows our size in comparison to the rocks at the bottom of the second picture. Yes? On the second picture the small blue scale is about six feet, the height of myself or 1.5 Jitens. The thick red line shows our approximate climbing route. The red circle is where we ended up with not much help.
    Firstly I followed Jiten’s words, “Oh, very easy.” and climbed his way instead of the alternate way, which turned out to be much easier. When we arrived at the red circle area, a plane of about 60degrees with nothing to hold on to, we got stuck. Basically we couldn’t go anywhere because there was a lack of things to grab and a lack of places to go. My feet began to slip and I reached up to grab his ankle, and pulled myself up to his area, pulling him down slightly. We both started slipping down the rock and somehow Jiten reached up at a previously unreachable branch, pulled himself up, and offered his foot for me to grab hold of. We ended up at the ridge at the top the circle and tore through piles of thorns to reach a flat rock and a pathway.

    I’m not much for bragging, but I nearly died. Because we were climbing barefoot, the skin of my feet peeled off as I was slipping, reaching for my life. My hands and arms were scraped from the rocks and thorns that we had to rip through. In the end, I’m alive, and to celebrate, I cut my hair very short and ruined my life instead. Biggest mistake of my life. I should have died, then people would have remembered me for my unreal Jesus/Samson/Triple H/Lead singer from the Used hairdo, and not my cowardice.

    In other news, I can now read and write Hindi. Blogger offers Hindi, Kannada, Tamil, Telugu and Malayalam script, so if you have a Mac or a computer that is able to read Hindi, here you go! This means (with likely incorrect spelling), Good night! सुबह रहती !

  • Proverb of the Month

    Short and incredibly wise. No, not Danny Devito. Proverbs, or just famous quotes. Usually those short ones are better (TWSS*) than long drawn out pieces of work. You can find millions of cheeseball and/or wiseball sayings all over the place. In India especially; you can buy really nice 4’x6 posters of Bollywood stars, cricket masters, maps, fruit trays, epic scenery, great architecture, a vase of flowers . Usually with any of these you’ll get a zinger of a proverb to set you straight. For example on a friend’s computer desktop, “Anyone can be at the helm when the sea is calm.”
    Or on a beautiful bouquet poster in the house of a steel worker who doesn’t speak English,
    “When all else fails, the future still remains.”
    Or a poster of a giant city in the desert, “What men call civilization, always ends up as dust”.
    Or in computer store office, “Service without reward is punishment.” This one I had I hard time grasping. Should I have rewarded the man serving us, or was he supposed to reward us…?
    Or on a mans Tshirt in Assam, “Recyclers do it over and over.”
    These all have unknown authors. Think of how famous I could be if I became the unknown author of a poster worthy quote.

    So I want to begin writing these. One daily is bound to produce a few wise as hell proverbs.
    Here’s my first crack at it.

    “If hell exists, then there is nothing wiser than hell. If hell doesn’t exist then there is nothing wiser than the person who invented it.”
    -Nic Olson

    Hell yeah! I literally just made that up. That is amazing. Most famous quotes and proverbs would usually have a few wise words surrounding the famous quote said at the time of the quote. But that’s not for me. I can compact all that 20 year old wisdom in one single contextless proverb.

    I think India loves them so much because they’ve had some of the most quotable people in history in their history. Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Hanuman the monkey boy god, Shah Rukh Khan, and soon enough Nic Olson.
    And apparently, according to the back of some book I saw at the book store, this is what Mark Twain said about India.

    “India is the cradle of the human race, the birthplace of human speech, the mother of history, the grandmother of legend and the great grandmother of tradition.”

    Suck it, Danny Boyle.

    PS I still haven’t seen that movie.

    *that’s what she said.