Worried

Perspective

Coffee stains

Confusion over ice

Crimson sky

Guitar

Infinity

Worlds Collide

Stand up straight

I recently spent a long weekend in Florida, God's waiting room, where I was soothed by the hot sun and excited by the hot prices for booze. You see, living in Canada we get conned into believing that our state run liquor stores are exercising their buying power to bring us the best deals from the world of alcohol. We ignore the obligatory 100% mark up in taxes that fund useless and unneeded social fluff, and settle into our Canadian winters secure in the knowledge that we are a beer drinking nation well served by a presumably beer drinking government.

One trip to Total Wine and Liquor in Fort Myers popped that illusion like a champagne cork- I left armed with $18 cases of beer and $20 jugs of Rum. But I digress.

So I sat at the pool, ice cooler by my side, and contemplated life. My Blackberry continued to buzz as the office never stopped, but I still managed some quiet reflection and mass liquid consumption. Important to stay hydrated!!

As usual, the pool was sparsely used by the locals and my mere attendance brought the average age down to 90.

I overheard chatter about how Obama was destroying the American way of life, insane and unmanageable debt was being passed on to many generations by a federal government hell bent on controlling every aspect of our lives.

Then I heard how gas was outrageously over priced now (still half the price of Canada), how golfing on the local Bermuda grass was impossible, and how the government should step in and do something about it (the grass, not the gas).

After a while I realized that one person, sitting apart from the other senior pundits, had not said a word, nor moved an inch since I got there. There was a little chest movement so I assumed the reaper had not dropped by for a swim.

Then it struck me. I had seen this face before. So dark, commanding and yes, evil. Could it be possible? Surely this character was the fictional stuff of movies.

But no, there I sat, directly across the pool from the Imperial Emperor from Star Wars.

Now you may mock me for such an observation, after all, what would the Emperor, who apparently met his demise in episode six, be doing at a condo swimming pool in southern Florida? But it was him!

I hastily grabbed my blackberry and positioned it to take a picture. Knowing the quality would be terrible, I had no choice but to chance it.

Here you see the fruits of my photographic labor. Resolution is bad but you can clearly see him there, alone, unattended - not an imperial guard in sight.

I sat there thinking of the irony - all those republican candidates out there debating and campaigning for the right to face Obama in this year's federal elections, when the perfect man for the job lay right in front of me. What a lost opportunity! Obama wouldn't stand a chance!

Anyway - at that point I was out of Rum and beer so I had to decide between engaging the Emperor in political discussion, or going back to the condo for refills.

God that beer was good!

Long live the Empire!

Goodbye my friend

Its been a while since my last post. I have not really felt inspired to write about anything. Life has been busy with endless hours of uneventful filler, and my creative juices have been bottled by a need for rest and reflection after my 50th birthday has passed.

Today, when opening my ipad for the morning news, I was impacted by the announcement of Author Christopher Hitchen's death.

Christopher had been suffering from cancer for some time now and the end was inevitable - however this was still received with shock and surreal confusion.

I have often stated that I have no heroes, worship nobody, but if I were to be forced to compile a list of heroic contenders, Mr. Hitchens would be challenging for the top position.

How do you explain to someone that the passing of a man I have never met, strikes me as hard as the loss of a close friend?

I have repeatedly scoured his books and articles for comfort, smiles and support for my own position and ideology. I have watched him interviewed and experienced his extraordinary orating skills in the Munk debates with Tony Blair. I have marvelled at his humanity, generosity, love, morality and ethics for us humans and our world while never needing a belief system as a crutch. And most delightfully, I have watched Hitch fight against hypocritical and destructive religious dogmas at every opportunity, even as his body broke down from the cancer and his god loving enemies prayed for his demise.

Once in a while a person comes along that has such purpose, such intellect and such impact, that the mere consideration of them as replaceable is laughable and the world as a whole diminishes in their passing.

I never met you Hitch, but you were indeed my friend.

As your cancer consumed you, you asked for no pity and jokingly accepted your fate as being the same as everyone else, just a little accelerated.

Despite our collective disbelief in the afterlife, I cant help grin at the thought of you standing at the pearly gates as I write this, in a deep and colourful argument with St Peter, debating God's very existence.

If they let you in Christopher, go easy on the big guy!!

Thank you for being my friend.

Martin

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