Random Bull Thoughts

I haven't posted for a while. Not for lack of material - just lazy I guess.

There have been many great news items to discuss lately but hard to find one that deserves a lot of time. However, there are a few honourable mentions:

The US mid term elections and the rise of the Tea Party, which is not a party according to party officials. This is too easy to pick on and way overdone. I do love the "Back to freedom, small government and low taxes" vanguard - just wish it didn't come with bible thumping retards at the controls.

Bull fighting outlawed in Spain! Fantastic. Maybe, as a species, we are slowly starting to realize that there is nothing sporting or pleasurable about animal abuse. I mean seriously, who doesn't cheer for the Bull? We all love it when that emaciated sword wielding satin wearing poser takes a pair of horns in the silk coin purse right? Yaaay Bull! But now, at least, we don't have to watch that spectacle anymore and can sleep better knowing that all bovine slaughter takes place in a factory where God intended it.

There is an election for the Mayor of Toronto featuring a bunch of bald guys. They are all left wing, even though one claims to be leaning right (probably just his jockey shorts preference). They all claim to have a vision for Toronto - but near as I can tell, these opaque visions were formulated in the mid 1960's in a smoke filled room in Budapest.

Speaking of Dope(s), California may legalize pot, and Canada is watching closely to see if this can work for the 4% of Canadians who don't already have access to pot through the normal channels. The concept makes sense, the war on drugs costs Billions in California - legalizing it means goodbye to smugglers and cross boarder drug traffic, gangs, ATF costs, big black helicopters and drug related crime - and hello to a tightly controlled tax windfall. The spread between the savings and new tax revenue is massive. However, up here, the only cross board issues Canada has is undeclared tariffs on shopping sprees at Super Target stores in Buffalo. So our savings may not be as massive as California predicts, but it would still be cool to drop by a convenience store for a pack of weed. Might help increase the decorative hot dog sales too.

Africa is set to emerge as the next big economy, so they say. I hope they are ready! Right now most Africans have a solid sense of self responsibility that most of the world lacks. In the West we have laws and regulations to address any and every situation, activity, product or human interaction. We are forced (for our own good of course) to wear helmets and seat belts, publish the ingredients of a can of peanuts, pay for religious schooling, buy building permits to do work on our own land and drive on highways with maximum speed limits (except those lucky bastards in Germany). If these laws are contravened, we have criminal courts and civil courts where filing law suits is a vocational mainstay of many citizens. We have created a society with the universal luxury of blame. Anyone but ourselves. Somebody MUST pay for my pain and suffering!

But in many parts of Africa you are under your own responsibility to fend for yourself. If you trip and fall, who will you sue? If your beverage is too hot and you burn yourself - well, I guess you're an idiot and that's the end of it. If someone calls you a bad name in public - I guess you deal with it and call him one back. No slander, no negligence, no Big Brother mandating your safety whether you like it or not. Total freedom to mess up any way you wish. All blame is internalized and all damages limited to your own ability to "be careful". Freedom at it's most extreme and dangerous, but freedom none the less.

So as the major corporations prepare their attack on the African continent (and why not, who doesn't need a Dunkin Donut in the morning) their advance scouts of Lawyers are mapping the environment, getting ready to bring civility and justice to the "backwards" lifestyles of the indigenous people. And the poor bastards thought the missionaries were bad! Next up - Mongolia!!

Talk soon

M

Trans - Planting

I performed delicate surgery on an aloe plant that I have had for 5 years in my Montreal condo. His name is Bob (Robert if he has done something wrong) and he is a great companion. When I bought my condo 5 years ago, he was the only thing that came with it. Either a forgotten asset or a nice house warming thought from the previous owner.

Bob was small, about 4 inches across and in desperate need for water and attention.

I nursed him back to health and fed him plant nutrient sticks and lots of water for many months until he regained his shine and vitality.

Now he seems to feel like he has the run of the place. Outgrowing two pots so far, this past weekend I put him in a very large 16 inch ceramic home with three bedrooms. Very nice!

To date, Bob has grown to inhabit the counter and kitchen window area where his advanced scouts control the sunlight into the apartment from the west side.

My only concern with these constant transplants is whether I am being kind in allowing him to expand, or whether I am aiding and abetting his ultimate takeover plans of the planet. Bob is quite formidable now although not reaching Little Shop of Horrors proportions yet.

So I am home in Toronto this weekend and I wonder how he is doing. It was a difficult transplant operation, requiring me to take a hammer to his previous home in order to extradite him safely. My hands shook and my brow was sweating during the 4 minute procedure. I slumped in the corner and stared at the dirt on my hands for several minutes after the arduous task.

His new home is spacious and refilled with quality dirt containing vitamins and lots of shit plants need to grow, but I am worried if he will adjust. Moving to a new neighborhood is difficult at the best of times, but this is like moving from a studio apartment to the Queens summer home (sans the servants).

God speed Bob and see you Wednesday. Hang in there and I will be bringing treats and several toys to amuse you.

Pets are such a responsibility!

M

Give me my money back!

Where does a Canadian go to create his own Tea Party movement? Not that I admire the ignorant sheep like mentality of many of the bible thumping members, but some of their agenda is spot on!

Enough with the socialist state "Big Government" spending spree. What happen to liberty and self sufficiency? Are we all so brain dead that we willingly let the government legislate our every move for a mere 60% of our income in taxes upon taxes upon taxes?

I have been blessed with a successful career, much thanks to my father and good educational choices, so I have the pleasure of paying an even higher PERCENTAGE of my income to support those who are "needy". Where is the incentive? Half of my income is taken from every pay, and then there is sales tax, house tax, gas and liquor taxes, etc.

What happened to the original concept of democracy and capitalism that founded the Americas? Government was needed for defense, infrastructure and supporting the law of the land. The people were in charge - not the government!

In Canada now we have a true example of legislation without representation. Major city centres set the rules, everyone else pays for them.

Welfare, social programs, personal protection program, Health care, Health choices, environments policies and laws, language laws, freedom of speech, etc. are all the domain of the governments now! Why stop there? There is precious little left to control.

In Ontario Canada this week a proposal was tabled to give poor people free gym memberships so they could get healthy! Really!!?? So my money should pay for someone to work off the fat of the food and security I provided? Here's an idea - get off the couch and look for a job!

But wait - the policies and taxation of small businesses (the people who hire the unemployed) are so debilitating and draconian that there are no new jobs to get (unless you want to work for the city at $20 an hour to survey and count homeless people - true story).

The Tea Party folks in the States are a little over the top for my liking, but they are getting attention! The next revolution, they say, is small government, less taxes and self determination! What a concept - taking care of ourselves with our own money!

Their fair tax concept suggests that we abolish all income tax - reduce or eliminate all wasteful programs (that's most of them) and charge a significant tax on goods and services and tolls on infrastructure to create a user pay system - pure capitalism! Love it - let me decide where my money goes. I may even have enough left to give to charities and those in need.

In Canada we never had a Boston Tea Party revolt - so reenacting that moment is impossible - but if enough people get loud about this socialized direction, maybe we can create a visible coffee and donuts revolution in the Great White North.

M

Mexico

Well I just got back from a wonderful vacation in Los Cabos Mexico. For those who don't know, Los Cabos is Spanish for the "Kingdom of Sammy Hagar". Very good tequila by the way. Cabo Wabo rocks - at least from what I remember.

Mexico was quite a departure for me as I usually holiday in the Caribbean this time of year but it was so cold due to global warming, I decided to try the Pacific side.

The hotel I stayed in (Barcello) was new. Brand new, as in they were still building it during my stay. The room I had, which I must say was very nice, had never been used before my arrival. I cracked the seal on that puppy! It may need several repairs now!

During the week, as I got bored with the hot temperature, sunny sky and beautiful view, my attention was drawn to the construction workers who were applying stucco to one side of a building about 80 feet in the air, supported by something that resembled a scaffold, but I prefer my own description, "scrap wood held together with snot".

The danger of their precarious position seemed lost to these men. Their overall strategy was to wander around long enough until it was siesta time. I then discovered that siesta time had no specific starting point, and seemed to gradually break up after a few hours as workers became stiff and tired of their fetal sleep positions tucked away under the stairs, and wandered back to their standing and shuffling activities.

There seemed to be no stress at all in the indigenous population. This stressed me out!
How can one survive without an anxiety ball in your stomach and shoulders permanently fused to your ears?

The week passed slowly after this revelation and I became fixated on the charmed life of a Mexican construction worker. Surely, I surmised, this is just indicative of this particular trade, and not of the population at large.

My supposition was corrected when I arrived at the airport to depart beautiful Los Cabos. In the departure lounge, where I had 3 hours to kill thanks to the scheduling skills of my tour operator who felt they must whisk me away for a 10 minute bus ride with plenty of extra time in case there was a flat tire, kidnapping or construction strike along the way, I killed the time wandering between stores and questionable restaurants.

Within the many airport shops selling genuine original Aztec fertility symbols made from the actual plastics found at the archaeological sites, I ran across Jorge, one of the security guards for the area. He greeted me with a friendly Ola, and then showed me how he looked in his secret crime fighting disguise - Spiderman. I was impressed! "May I take your picture Spiderman"? I asked, expecting the answer no, as this would be photographic evidence that he was not doing his job of guarding the security of two or three hundred gringos. "Of course my friend!" he replied, and proceeded to pose for half a dozen pics in various Spidy action stances. The proof is clearly displayed above. I was thrilled at this response and wondered what the reaction would have been if I had asked an American customs agent to pose for me as a Webslinger.

Clearly the gentle people of Los Cabos have found the secret to living a stress free life. Perhaps it is in the water? I doubt it because the only secrets I found in the water quickly departed by body along with 12 pounds of much needed fluid. Perhaps it is genetic, or cultural, but their society seems to be operating just fine. Rich or poor, young and old, everyone's taking it easy.

There is a clear lesson to be learned here!
I should vacation in Manhattan! At least the cabbies can still drive during their siestas, and less than 35% wear disguises on the job.

I need a nap!

M

Where does art come from?

Over the holidays there is a lot of time to think, at least in my world. I realize that so many people spend this time running from place to place with various family obligations and celebrations.
I choose to hybernate, watch the winter solstice pass and begin my dreams for Spring.
At the same time, via bordom or ambition, I find my creativity retuning.
I write a lot more of my never ending novel, and I need to paint. Yes NEED.

The paintings attached represent an abstract vision of my emotions during this sequestered period.

"Doesn't Fit" is a teaser. I will leave it up to the viewer to decide if it is beautiful or obscene.

The "Days End" has a twofold meaning. A simplistic sunset, or a truly horrific scene of impending doom. It makes me happy :)

Where do these ideas come from? What makes the choice in colours so important?

I dont know. But I do know that when I need to paint, it is an overwhelming emotion that must be addressed. A physical yearning, like an addict, or a smoker on a 10 hour flight.

Love them or hate them, I hope you have a strong reaction either way.

M

Back to work in Plastic-town

The holiday season is over and I have not managed to relax one minute. Why, I ask myself, can't I just be normal and lay on a couch for a week, or just sleep. I cannot sit still. I tried to watch some mindless daytime TV but it hurt my head to the point that I needed medication. Next I tried to read - I have plenty of books left on my "to be read" shelf, but it doesn't feel right in the middle of a weekday. Like I'm cheating or something. How on earth will I ever handle retirement???

Now that I am back to work - I feel cheated that I didn't get the rest I needed. Cant win!

Tomorrow I embark on a business trip to Las Vegas. I hate it!
Every January the same thing - 5 days of business meetings and dinners while being tortured with the view of a sunny warm day out of a hotel meeting room window. And yes, once again, a Cirque de Sole show that Ive seen before but will still sit through and smile with the client and pretend that my brain isn't sliding out of my left ear and making a run for it.

Vegas is the quintessential plastic village. Nothing is real. As you drive past one casino facade after another you get the feeling that the only thing of any substance in the city is the hard sand that packs every second vacant lot and anchors the ubiquitous "coming soon" signs that have been there for 8 years.

Truthfully, I really like the desert, not that I get to see much of it, but it is a beautiful departure from Canadian scenery in January, which is an unpleasant mixture of white ground and grey trees, buildings, roads, cars, - well you get the picture.

Nobody comes from Las Vegas. Everyone you meet in hotels, restaurants or casinos have a name tag that states their home town - which is anywhere other than Vegas. I get the impression that the city doesn't really exist - it's just a temporal hole in space/time - designed to separate you from your money and cultural sensibilities.

I suppose some might consider me bitter and jaded for complaining like this, where they would love a trip to Nevada this time of year - but after 20+ years of this annual trek I am past the point of apologising as to why my anxiety and BP go up the first week of every January.

This year, I have the added pleasantness of new airport security regulations to look forward to. I believe I am required to arrive two or three days early at security, get naked, and pee in a jar. This is followed by the group cavity search activity and long discussions on the lethal potential of my sneakers.

Anyway - I shall update you all when it's over and my mood improves and the ability to relax returns to me - when the wheels lift off the ground at Macarren airport for the long but pleasant flight home.

M

Do Porcupines Hybernate

I recently went to Toronto to see my favorite band perform at the Princess Margaret Theatre. Porcupine Tree is not well known here in North America. They originate from England (so proud) and play a type of music that most try to label "progressive rock". But labels are deceiving, irritating and itchy (if you don't cut them off properly).

This incredible band is made up of all the elements needed to be monsters of popularity except the desire to produce cheesy pop rock or top 40 radio dung.

Their list of elements include;

• Incredible musicians - with possibly the best drummer on the planet - though some might wish to debate me on that.


• Truly sophisticated music that challenges while it attacks and retreats through long eclectic passages of hard edge cuts and soft soul massages.


• Lyrics that would make a poet cry. An understanding of life and a brilliant ability to encapsulate it in a few short rhymes.
  
• The perfect stage show, with CD quality sound mix and near prefect reenactment of the recorded songs. Floyd would be proud!

Having waited since the Spring to see them, tickets in hand for 5 months, I thought I might have built them up to a place in my mind where I would undoubtedly be disappointed. I attended the evening with a close friend - who originally turned me on to this band during a 2 hour wait in a Japanese airport lounge - and my son who is also inspired by PTree's music.

The first set consisted of tracks from their new CD "The Incident" which is a monster in the making. Despite it's newness to me, it felt like I was listening to music and stories I had known all my life. The second set included tracks from older albums that included two of my all time favorites, "Anesthetize" and "Start of Something Beautiful". Near perfect compositions.

With illuminating sound penetrating the tightest corners of my soul I watched 2 hours disappear in a split second. Never have I been so disappointed to have a concert end. It could have gone on all night as I felt refreshed, invigorated and inspired.

My dear friend soaked up the event in a flurry of air drumming that could have been lethal should anyone wander in the vicinity. I, on the other hand, sat transfixed, not moving a mussel - I couldn't - the music took my mind away, and just left an empty hulk in my seat to tend to my coat and wallet. I was gone! Transported in to a very rare place - a place very few get to experience. I can say that with assurance as I have attended many a great concert in my day, but this was different - this was as close to a religious experience as I would want to get without the required worship and guilt based donations.

I had spent the whole summer waiting for this late September event. The realization that it was over too fast and that the next day was October, left me feeling the night chill and a touch of sadness that often precedes winter and the social hibernation we all go through here in Canada.

The leaves on my trees are changing, the Maple Leafs are dropping, the P Trees have left and soon the white stuff will appear. Not heart warming signs.

As they departed the stage, PTree promised to be back in the Spring with a new show. Perhaps this promise will get me through winter with a smile and a memory of a night that is now tattooed into my soul.

Until then - it's hibernation time. Time to dream of new leaves and the Trees returning.

Paris Hilton owes me!

Vacation week is over as fast as it arrived. I love my job - sometimes - but the lack of good weather this summer in Canada makes me feel cheated, thus I do not want to return just yet. I feel I am owed something.
Maybe that is the nature of all of us. Entitlement. I certainly see it in the young people today - oh god I sound like a senior citizen.
The Facebook generation seems to believe that the rest of their connected world (their so called friends) actually want to hear about their every move from "I'm eating lunch now" to "my hair looks tremendous".
This self centered approach to life, oblivious or impartial to the world around them, has resulted in a shift in culture that will sadly permeate our society once this generation is middle aged. One need look no further than celebrity culture where Paris needs a show to select a new Best Friend, and a playboy bunny can have her own show about the trials and tribulations of marrying a millionaire athlete.
Our culture is imploding into 5 billion little black holes where everyone feels entitled to receive but not to give.
Once we socialized by going "out" with a friend, or sitting with hundreds at a movie, or listening to a music album in our living rooms with actual friends. Now, the "personal" generation prefers human isolation - happily provided in their personal music systems (ipods) and online virtual friends.
Kids don't bike over to a friends house to play - they text each other to meet online and play video games (becoming characters who replace all their imagination burdens for them).
Anyone who can step back, take a breath and look at this world from a distance can see whats coming. This cultural isolationism has been predicted in many a science fiction story - but here it is on our doorstep.
My oldest and dearest friend just joined Facebook and Twitter today at age 47. It saddens me in a way, as we were always the last holdouts in resisting the Fads. But somewhere deep inside we instinctively know that this is not a fad. The vehicles (like Facebook) my come and go, but the path has been set for this culture. Perhaps he and I are of a dying generation and simply waxing nostalgic at the notion of finding your BFF the old fashioned way (without the need of a TV show). Of course, back then, we never felt entitled to this privilege, nor did we envision collecting hundreds of "friends" like we collected hockey cards. We were not entitled to the things we saw on TV - we knew we would have to work for everything that we received and very little would simply be given to us (Liberal governments not withstanding).
So I didn't get the summer I wanted! Alas somebody must be to blame. After all, I am owed some relaxation, and sunshine, and fun right?
Back to work on Monday - Damn that Paris Hilton

M

Retirement

This painting is about simplicity. Both the way it was painted, with simple knife and brush strokes, and the message, which reflects my desire for an uncomplicated slide into old age.
The irony remains in the years I have spent pushing myself so hard to achieve my dreams, when all I want now is alone time, warmth, and an uncomplicated schedule of late breakfasts followed by early cocktails.

Cheers to Retirement

Polute the Yellow Brick Road

This is a piece I love dearly. My intention was never to make an environmental statement, far from it. It is intended to point out how us humans consistently strive for more as - the perfect car, home, life, etc. yet we are never satiated when we finally arrive at that place. So the trip continues.
It's a trip of pain and sadness since we can never reach the end and can only add to our growing list of desires and wishes.
Some say this is the human spirit and drives all of our innovations. Others see the sadness and incomplete nature of our emotional condition.
Follow your dreams, but have a look out the side window at the garbage piling up along the way.

Western Therapy

Last week, on my way back from Vancouver, I stopped for the weekend in Saskatchewan to see an old friend. More like an older Brother, or Yoda as I once called him. We have survived life's ups and downs by connecting at a deep level that I can only surmise would be possible among siblings. Alas I have no Brother or Sister so my same sex equivalent of a soul mate holds that honor.

Landing in Regina is a pleasure. A fine airport in its own right, it does not have all those things that irritate the traveller in hubs like Toronto and Montreal - like planes, people and quality shops that should have the motto "no mark up it too big for us"!

Leaving the airport I remembered my dear friends comments that "whatever you need in Regina it's only 15 minutes away". Promising, but a lie! I didn't pass one Starbucks on the way to their place. Maybe Starbucks had not attacked Regina yet. Maybe they have and were beaten back by pitchfork wielding locals with Tim Horton's mugs.

30 minutes north east of Regina is the town of Beuna Vista (once called Regina Beach but I gather there was some sort of feudal incident and lines were drawn), a beautiful piece of country that literally indents the flat lands and refills it with lakes, flora, fawna, and a slightly slower rotation of the planet.

I settled right in, checking my Blackberry only bi-hourly, rather than every 10 minutes. Ahh relaxation!!

I was met with a huge hug and a kiss, followed by the same from my friends wife, a woman who I dearly love, and at the same time deeply respect for her strong presence and ability to accept me on my own terms without ever trying to change me.

My friend, lets call him Big H, was ready with the drinks and sunshine. We sat on the flat roof of his garage where you can see the lake, and covered all of the "catch up" topics necessary to get us up to speed.

I've known Big H only 15 years, but it seem like a lifetime. He knows what to say when advice is needed, but more importantly, he knows what not to say when you just need to pour your soul (which his wife, lets call her Bev because that is her name, believes I still have possession of).

We covered business and how the company was doing since I fired him (a story for another day), and I got the goods on his family - a son's happy marriage, and a beautiful daughter's sad divorce. Many a tear welled up in the corner of our eyes, but Big H and I don't cry. That's for the weak! Haa

Finally the invitation came to go down to the dock and take a boat ride at sunset. On arrival I did nothing to prepare the boat because that would be like me bringing a cup of water to the Hindenburg disaster, pointless and ineffectual. So I watched. Interested in the process, I had many questions, most related to the odds of me drowning.

Pulling out of the marina a sense of peace slipped over me. The conversation stopped and we just observed. An orange sky was burning over the horizon where the sun had recently crashed. The waves made choppy sounds against the hull and the brisk spray refreshed my face and arms.

Water birds with babies on their back bobbed by the boat as we drifted for a while. I don't know the names of birds so I called them Charlie and Rebbecca. Seemed right!

It was the shortest 90 minutes of the year. Too dark to continue I reluctantly climbed out on to the floating dock and found my land legs (not immediately).

Leaving for the airport the next morning I embraced Big H and Bev. Two of the best people on the planet. They gave me so much in two days and they will never know what it means to me. My emotional tank refilled, I drove to Regina, past the suicidal Prairie Dogs that line the highway, into the city and returned the rental car (in two minutes - please take note you Boneheads at Pearson in Toronto).

I was happy to get on board the plane (minus a business class - what the Hell?) but sad that I could not take Big H, Bev and Regina Beach with me. But then, If I did, it wouldn't be the same. Soul mates and refills are a gift - and I am willing to travel for that gift.

Thank you Big H

Vancouver

Business took me to Vancouver this week. A confusing town for visitors to navigate and a slow paced mega city to say the least. A real lack of highways adds to the slow grind, stress and frustration. Add some west coast rain and stir briskly and you have a wonderful recipe for communal anger.

I was once in Regina and someone told me that everything you need to find is 15 minutes away. Sadly this is not the case in Vancouver - poorly timed lights and Olympic sized construction projects make 15 minute drives an impossibility. Figure an hour wherever you are going unless it's real important, then figure two.

My temporary home was the Red Rock Casino resort in Richmond. Interesting name as there are no red rocks to be seen anywhere, just fake grey ones, however, the stay was a pleasure starting with a wonderful front desk greeting and capped off by a great room, great service and a stunning view of the clouds surrounding the mountains giving a look of purple cherries on top of a whipped cream sundae.

The view also included a yacht club of beautiful boats ranging from little outboard runabouts to large second mortgages.

Prior to my morning departure I walked the piers and admired the many ducks and geese making nests by the water, oblivious to the jumbo jets that scraped the hotel roof in their approach to the nearby airport.

Walking down the street I'm passed by several blond Asian women in mini skirts on their way to gamble or work - who knows, maybe it's the same thing.

Construction everywhere, dotted with "Help Wanted" signs making a liar out of the recession.

Friday morning the card tables are still full in the casino - seriously, who gambles at 8 am on a Friday?

At 10 AM I head further down the street to the ubiquitous Starbucks, past the rear loading doors of the casino and the pungent smell of garbage emanating from the Red Rock loading bays. Everything feels fake and the smell of decay is in the air. Social or physical, I'm not sure!

I feel strange surrounded by the beauty of BC, yet so much seems exploitative. Progress I guess!

The ducks don't care. Maybe I don't either.

My latte is too hot to drink so I sit in my rental car and watch the world pass by. It's surreal, I feel no connection to this place, it could be a TV show for all I feel. Time to fly.



M

Wine and Cheese

This week I experienced a moment of true happiness when, in the middle of a crazy work week of mind numbing strategic meetings, I escaped for a few hours of wine and cheese tasting at Bistro Champlain in the Quebec countryside.

My view stretched across a lake dotted with a few boaters while the dock was near empty but for a few dogs walking their humans and enjoying the pre "schools out" madness of cottage country.

In the Bistro I am surrounded by amazing works of art by Carson, and below me is a cellar of 18,000 bottles of wine. Far to many for me to drink in one sitting, but I was eager to try.

The wine steward and host was a wonderful man of great humor and hidden knowledge tucked away in folds of his wrinkled eyes. He delivered a centrepiece of cheeses and apples that looked too fine to eat. Cheeses my anglophone mouth could not pronounce but had no issue devouring,

the highlight being a 5 year old Gouda that activated taste buds that I thought long dead.

Champagne arrived, followed quickly by a 9 year old Chardonnay. Brilliant tastes of oak and apply danced across my pallet and flowed into my stomach, replacing the tension and stress that had sat there for days.

Then the reds arrived. Pinot Noir first - an aroma to lift your head off. Can we stop the world at this point because it just cant get better? But it did! 5 more wines followed, each one distinctly different and interacting with the cheeses in a most unexpected and creative manner. Dusty and mildewed labels revealed no hint of the pleasures they were protecting.

After a quick visit to the wine cellar, I settled back in my chair to finish off my new found liquid obsessions along with two wonderful colleagues who shared this surreal experience.

All talk of work was gone. Only mutual confusion as to why our lives are so regimented and stressed when paradise is all around us.

I didn't want to leave. It was upsetting, like being yanked back into existence after a near death experience, inches from Nirvana.

The drive back was filled with laughter and good natured opinions surrounding the wines and cheeses we experienced. But sadly, I surmise we all felt like something was left behind.

Maybe I will go back one day and look for it. Or maybe it was a moment never to be repeated beyond the retelling in stories and a knowledge that there is a different world of sights, sounds and tastes out there if we have the desire to seek it out.

M

Kicking and Screaming

Technology and I do not get along!

I am an painter and a writer, with an artistic soul and a well hidden emotional side that most who know my alter ego - corporate President - would never guess or suspect, or even want to associate.

So why a Blog?

I need an outlet, that most who blog or twitter seem to have found. Painting and writing is a fantastic emotional outlet, but on occasion, nothing beats a good political rant - posted for all to see. Though why anyone would care, is a mystery!

Since western society is obsessed with the narcissistic need to inform facebookers of their every mundane move, why can't I drop a comment or two about the futility and absurdity of it all?

So I plan to use this space to show some paintings, write a few lines of dribble, or just rant about the World, Politics, Business, Music, or anything else that pops into this 40ish brain. Running a business is stressful, with hundreds of lives depending on your decisions - I trust running a blog will be a little less taxing.

Let's see where this goes.





Cheers!







M