Category: Writing

Japan is threatening a huge dollar sell off if the US doesn’t do something about domestic interest rates. Japan lets its currency float against the dollar, which is nasty, because the Chinese renminbi doesn’t float – it’s pegged to the US dollar. So every time the yen strengthens the Japanese have less wiggle room in their two primary markets. The Japanese are also making it clear that they are talking to the Europeans about a coordinated approach to the dollar sell off. This means that not only does the Emperor not have any clothes, everybody knows he’s broke, too, but if everybody rushes in to try to grab 10 cents on the dollar everybody will end up with nothing. Obviously the Americans know this, which is why they are still smiling. However…. The Arab world has been throwing US dollars over the side since 9/11 but apparently it’s been even worse since November 2nd. I wish I could predict which dolt will start the run on the dollar.

Some think tank in California – the only one that predicted the 2001 recession – says that the housing bubble is about to collapse. Building industry spokesmen say, “Can’t collapse – don’t have oversupply”. I laugh in their faces. Once you have higher interest rates, there will be LOTS of oversupply, and that will happen the second the US has to prop up the dollar when the real rush begins. If I wasn’t going to be living on corn meal mush for the rest of my life, I might be entertained by the prospect.

Hear Rumsfeld got roasted by the troops yesterday or the day before. I don’t imagine it helps. After all, he was there shaking hands with Saddam Hussein in the 80’s; nothing abashes that guy.

The former lead guitarist of Pantera was shot dead last night. Heavy metal will kill you, don’t know the precise muzzle velocity.

Eels – Daisies of the Galaxy. This brilliant brilliant album doesn’t have a lame track on it. By turns delicate, kickass, elegiac and in your face, and with arrangements that completely clean the clock of most contemporary rock albums, it is a family fave.

Leonard Cohen – More Best of. Includes Suzanne, Hallelujah, Democracy is coming to the USA and Everybody Knows… and other greats.

Sheryl Crow’s Sheryl Crow. A wonderful singalong album.

Pukka Orchestra – Pukka Orchestra. Anybody who grew up in TO in the 80’s remembers CFNY playing about half a dozen tracks off this album. Apart from Flies there isn’t a lame track and Might as Well be on Mars is a complete classic. And there’s Cherry Beach Express….”52 Division, handcuffed to a chair, joining the lineup, to fall down the stairs…” wonderful album. Oh, and Listen to the Radio, another great great tune.

Steeleye Span – Below the Salt. I have no idea why we love this album so much, but I just get into a wonderful mood when I hear it. It burned up in the truck, lo these two years ago.

David Byrne’s selection of Brazilian tunes which I think is called Beleza Tropical. The first album, anyway. I wish somebody could give me a proper translation of some of the lyrics.

Dead Can Dance – A Passage in Time. Saltarello anyone?

Exchange – Into the Night. Okay, call us sappy for liking what is essentially movie background music, or maybe somewhat more highbrow elevator music, but this is a very soothing thing to have on.

Before some sumbitch stole it, we had Ry Cooder and Ali Farka Toure in Talking Timbuktu. That, friends, is a bloody amazing and wonderful album.

Chumbawama – Tubthumper. Nuff said.

There’s a few more, but you get the idea. It’s a pretty eclectic bunch of tunes we like.

John Hiatt – Walk on. Definitely very high on the ranking.

Bucketing bloody rain and windy. Lil Kate continues to spend half the evening talking on MSN to her non-boyfriend. As we approach the solstice my mood darkens.

Last night Paul pulled out a bunch of LP’s. We listened to Bonnie Raitt’s Give It Up (I had never heard it and frankly was stunned at its utter gorgeousness) and the Stones’ Sticky Fingers all the way through and listened to parts of Roxy Music’s Country Life. Man, Phil Manzanera is one of the best guitarists on the planet. I had scolded Paul the other night for always sitting passively in the living room while other people’s musical taste ruled the roost, so I think he, uh, what’s that phrase, announced his presence with authority. More tonight, I can hardly wait to see what else we’ll hear. And no scratches – he took good care of his LP’s. But holy wtf we need new speakers! Those Advents have frisked their last biscuit.

Remind me to list the albums all five of us can listen to, it’s a very funny list.

Okay, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep but at least I’m awake. Forgot to take my vitamins. Anyway.

Off to have coffee with my dear colleague Mo tonight, as it’s been ages since we had a good chinwag; he is a little more morally advanced than I as he doesn’t eat things with faces anymore.

I am almost to the point where I can start writing comedy again… writing sermons is incompatible with writing comedy, because I have to be in a respectful, consider the implications of what I’m saying kind of mood when I’m writing a sermon and I have to be disrespectful and considering the complete idiocy of the implications of what I’ve said when I’m writing comedy, so it’s quite a challenge to go back and forth. Hopefully that’s the last one I’ll have to write for a while.

Katie insisted that I put on my old albums last night, and AS USUAL I found myself singing along like the world’s largest Karaoke Moron and AS USUAL cursed at all the fluffs, errors, the completely rancid guitar sound and how I really SHOULD record all of them again. The stupid thing is that some of them are classics. I know that sounds really self absorbed, but Artificial Happiness is an amazing song. In three verses it traverses most of the moods and difficulties of having a depressive illness when you’re in a family situation; it does it with neatness and economy and a very good rhyme scheme, and the chorus is catchy. Erica’s Song is just a plain sappy love song, except that the lyrics are really good. And Some Words Before We’re Through, with the incredible pun (that nobody ever gets, that’s all David Dowker’s fault (go check http://members.rogers.com/alterra/content.htm if you’re interested in language poetry)) in the middle and the very puerile but somehow entertaining imitation of Bob Dylan’s songwriting style and the TRUE STORY in the second verse, in which a woman gives somebody all her money, which actually happened to a friend of mine when she was mentally ill, and the street musician she gave the money too had a baby and was about to be evicted, and then they met again in Vancouver, and then I got to meet him too, so the song and the story got to be in the same room, which was extremely cool. Trust me, it’s a good song, and then Paul told me it was too depressing and I should put a better ending on it, so I did, and it’s better. And then there’s I Guess I Never Felt This Way, which the kids helped me write when we were living in Montreal (that’s a funny sad story) and Bela Lugosi is the King Around Here, in which a bunch of people at a party all start telling stories; the first one is true and the rest get com-PLETE-ly out of control. And there’s beer and Plan 9 from Outer Space in it, how could it be better?

The only thing wrong with these songs is that they are basically archival. Only a very fond person would sit still for listening to them, even if they are good tunes; they all need arranging in the worst possible way, and now somebody’s forced me to listen to them again I’m now contemplating spending more money I don’t have to redo them. Pic is some random whatever off the drive.

The customer was from Ste Therese QC, but I swear to God I heard him say Centre Ice, and for a fraction of a second I actually believed such a thing possible. Consensus reality crashed and I had to reboot.

The sermon I gave yesterday which I posted went reasonably well. I handed in my overdue church library books, handed back the Welcoming Congregation materials I got from Mary (and gave her a little Beacon for aesthetics) hung around long enough at the craft fair to sell the two batches of biscotti I made two days ago, and went home.

When am I going to post a cute animal picture? Now. Anyway, I had this really long, really weird dream. Me and Paul and Kate and Keith were walking along a boardwalk in the middle of a swampy, rocky area. Kenora-ish. I see a dirty great grizzly bear coming towards us, partially obscured by what’s covering part of the boardwalk, and I say, let’s hightail it off the boardwalk, so we scoot up to the top of an observation deck that is on top of what looks like a hobbit hole crossed with a beaver dam.

Once at the top, the bear transforms in a matter of two seconds to the biggest damned timber wolf I’ve ever seen, and casually turns around and starts loping the other way. That more than anything else convinced me I had seen a shapeshifter – I could get the colour and the size wrong, but not the gait. It rolled like a bear coming towards me and loped like a wolf running away. My family is laughing at me and telling me I can’t tell the difference. They are looking at all kinds of things from the board walk, but I don’t take my eyes off the wolf. It lollops along for about a quarter k, and then the boardwalk T’s. A man, a very tall man dressed in brown, is waiting for the wolf at the intersection. The wolf does the playful dog thing with the man, running around, its body posture friendly and happy and not at all threatening. Then the wolf rears up on his hind legs, turns into a man, turns around and walks away. I screech – the wolf just turned into a man!!! and my family laughs even harder. First a bear, then a wolf, then a man, they say.

We go into the beaver dam and Doug and LE are cooking us lunch, which is salisbury steak and watermelon. (Let them’s got eyes understand.)

Their little house turns into a university professor’s office, and I’m pulling down English Arabic dictionaries and pretending to understand Arabic. Then this guy comes in wanting to rent a room, and right away I know he is a bad ‘un. The university prof, a tubby middle aged fellow sighs and says, well, everything he said on the application is a lie. He’s actually homeless right now. Then I went to a bakery, and Madonna was there buying bread with her youngest kid. Then I’m back on the boardwalk in the middle of the rocks and the swamp and I see this weird looking guy and a couple of other guys, and I say, you look pretty weird and he says that’s because I’m part Labrador and part shepherd and then he and his friends start laughing and I don’t know why, so I ask, and he says, my parents were from Labrador and Germany. I have no idea why this was funny, so I back away and run into brother Jerome. Jerome is like, bald and heading on for being middle aged although he’s still fairly slender (crap, that WAS a shock, seeing him with no hair) and he’s pushing a baby carriage (like wtf?) and has a slender dark little wife who’s very cute and the two of them are looking quite pleased with themselves as I strongly recollect being when Keith was that age, and he shows off the baby and I go “nice”, and then I decide I’m going to jump off the boardwalk and onto the grass on the other side, up a hill, and I look in the water, and lampreys are kissing in the clear water (you know, little sucker mouth to mouth) and just as I’m about to jump, a voice behind me says, “The grass is full of parasites and there’s nothing to see, stay put”. And then I woke up. There was something I missed in there about special multicoloured lightbulbs at Doug and LE’s place, but other than that, that’s about the dream.

Thomas Carlyle was once asked by a young man what he could do to make the world a better place. His answer was, Make of yourself an honest man; then you’ll know the world has one less rascal.

So there is a neat encapsulation of the concept of social justice. In order to become an agent of justice in the world, it all starts with you being honest. But is that enough? Our ancestors cautioned us, and in one of my favourite hymns, it says – But have not love. So there is another layer on the concept. If we do not move in the world with honesty and love, “the profit soon turns strangely thin”.

As the world mutates into an increasingly violent and difficult place, the solace of our church becomes increasingly important. However, a church is a house of prophecy, as well as a house of comfort. If you read the Bible, or any of the great holy works of the world’s religions, you know that prophets are a complete pain in the butt. Who is this loudmouth who comes among us and tells us to clean up our act? But without prophets to point the way, keep us honest and encourage the people actually doing the work, a church is just a social club with really cool architecture.

Social justice is living prophecy. We’ll build a land where we bind up the broken. We’ll build a land where the captives go free. The fulfillment of a world’s dream for peace, redemption, justice, freedom and true cooperation involves work.

Social justice is hard work. Many times it has been compared to working in a field, ploughing, planting, tilling, weeding, watering, and then harvesting. You get a little respite, and then it all starts again. Although nature is neutral – and I would say good, but I’m prejudiced – hunger is not. Ignorance is not neutral. Loneliness, boredom, fear, despair and social breakdown – none of these things are neutral. To counter these things requires a clear purpose, a steady mind, and some method, personal to each of us, to replenish ourselves in the face of both overwhelming human need and apparently limitless human greed.

Let us start with a clear purpose. Our job on earth is to find out why we are here and do it.

I really wish I’d got going on that sooner.

The beauty of making this discovery, though, is that once you figure that part out, it is like a perpetual source of light and energy. The light guides your feet, and the energy keeps you moving. When you have a clear calling, you look back on your life and go, Ah. Everything has led to this. Nothing was really wasted. Some people feel comfortable with the notion that this inner light is the interconnectedness of the universe revealing itself in daily life. Others have a more mechanistic view and figure that it is the way our brains work. Some like thinking that it is God. I have always maintained the view that it’s the works that count.

As a Unitarian Universalist, I am much more interested in how your principles reveal themselves in your daily life than I am in nitpicking about whether you believe the Right Things. The wisdom literature is full of what happens when saints of different religions meet. Do they immediately start whipping out the holy books and lecturing each other? Nope. Uh unh. They laugh, they smile, they give each other the kiss of peace, grin like the holy fools they are, because each saint meets someone inseparable from his or her calling. The saint and the calling are one.

By a show of hands, how many people in this room have a clear sense of what their purpose on earth is? Your honesty is a gift to this room.

Well, I’ll share something with you. I was put on earth to make other people laugh.

Humour allows us to reframe questions, poke holes in pomposity, view our own failings with compassion instead of disgust, share embarrassment, disillusionment and anger in a safe way, and completely and beneficially alter our brainwaves, breathing and blood chemistry. Not bad for something so trivial. I wonder why the halls of power have little room for humour, except the perverse enjoyment that flows from the discomfort of somebody who is Other or an enemy.

I only figured out my purpose this past year. Now I must figure out how to harness my life purpose to social justice. I am using myself as an individual and extreme example. What I would like to do right now is stop talking, and give all those of you who don’t know why you’re on earth three minutes to think about it. If you already know, or you find the assignment difficult, just be still for three minutes and lend spiritual aid to the room. I ask the question again, what is your purpose in life?

Three minutes go by.

Slowly return to this room, and to the concept of Social Justice as Spiritual Transformation. Those of you who participated in the meditation can be divided roughly into three groups, people who know why they are here, people who know but are fighting their calling, and people who don’t even know if they’d recognize their calling if they saw it.

As somebody who has been fighting her calling for twenty long and interesting years, I have this to say. The moment of surrender was one of the sweetest of my life. I have watched with amazement as what I need has jumped into my hand, as the support I dreaded to ask for has been freely and lovingly offered, and how the decision was accompanied by an outburst of creativity and personal growth. So if you’re fighting your calling, it’s not as bad as you might think. Amazing things are waiting on the other side.

Social Justice belongs to the people who claim it, who work for it, who challenge themselves with it. This church in the last two years has undertaken four congregational projects to live our principles. We called Katie Stein Sather, in my opinion the smartest thing we’ve done; we did the deep work of examining our prejudices and feelings about the GBLT community; we started our association with SHARE; and we examined our resources and commitment to having a church building, from which we can truly offer a place of refuge through all the days and seasons of the year.

I would like to name the people involved in the food bank, not to shame those of us who have not volunteered � after all, I’m one of them – but to honour those who have. If we don’t take the time to celebrate the foot soldiers in the cause of Social Justice, we may lose sight of ourselves as a group of people committed to making the world a better place.

Names deleted for privacy reasons.

And what of the other things that people in this congregation have worked for? Amnesty International, a Women’s Centre, a Hospice, endless committee work to fight for better schools for all of our children. Child care for International Women’s Day. Marching on Pride Day. Writing letters to the press about the social evil of gambling. Visiting the sick, speaking at funerals. Supporting individuals in the throes of addiction and mental illness; serving in the legislature; shovelling snow for neighbours; walking the pilgrimage road; raising money for a church bell in a far off land. From the very large issues down to the most personal, the members of this congregation have demonstrated over and over a willingness to be engaged, to witness, to work, and to hold themselves accountable to their own personal dream of a better world.

Unitarian Universalists have always been at the forefront of the uncomfortable social changes. Slavery, Women’s Rights, birth control choice, rights for sexual minorities and the extension of marriage rights, reassessment of our draconian drug laws, peace and the rights of indigenous peoples have all been causes that individual UU’s have given their lives to.

And you know what all those UU’s would tell me about the work they did? They’ll tell me it wasnt enough.

As a realist, I have to agree. But the dreaming, visioning, imagining me will answer as well that if you know what your purpose is as an individual, and keep your principles firmly in front of you, whatever you undertake in a group or as an individual will have lasting meaning and value.

If we are to tackle the evils of the world, we’ll need courage, faith, patience, and a lot of hard work. But rather than leave you with a feeling that you now have Save the World on your to do list, I prefer to leave you with a quote from Alan Borovoy, many years the senior counsel of the Canadian Civil Liberties Union. If you really want to make the world a better place, you should find the best people to go make trouble with and have a lot of fun doing it.

So find your calling; put it at the service of your principles; and amazing things will happen. Ours is the everlasting heritage of those uncomfortable prophets. Let us be the best troublemakers that we can, as long as our strength lasts, about the issues that mean the most to us, and leave a legacy of courage and commitment to uplift a troubled world.

Most excellent trip to the sister office. Brother G provided tunes including Little River Band (it’s been ages) and early Van Morrison, most of which I don’t recollect hearing before. Weather was more or less okay both ways and although the traffic was pretty rude in chunks of the I5 that too was mostly okay. Borders both ways were no sweat, although I was interested to see that the ID got checked both ways. Must be something to do with the terror alert in the US. The boy who cried wolf must be sick with laughing.

Very happy to be back in the bosom of my family. Paul and Keith cooked breakfast, being flapjacks and red river cereal (you know, wholesome and nutritious…. unlike the last two days, when it’s been variations on a very greasy theme).

The team building exercise at the sister office consisted of building the tallest structure possible with dried spaghetti and marshmallows. My team won, mostly because Brother A got on the floor and started working right away. We swiftly switched from squares to triangles as being an inherently more stable structure, and between the five of us got to a little higher than waist high in 15 minutes. It was very entertaining, especially when we went to inspect the other contestants’ designs. The first one unstuck from the wall and collapsed as we walked up to it (I have to admit I was more than necessarily gleeful about this). The second did a very slo mo collapse – gracefully. Then we did the “how do you solve a problem like Maria” exercise and what completely blew EVERYBODY away at the end of it was how everybody more or less agreed on what should happen to make things better in the department. There were variations, and more or less creativity, but the basic ideas were all there in all the breakout sessions. I was impressed as hell, frankly. My teammates are all pretty nice people, and they all collectively are pretty smart, too. So I guess I am justified in calling it an excellent trip.

 

2019 sez do you not find it amusing that I nowhere mention I played the CD I recorded with Gord for Garlen, my commute-mate?  La la.

My mother is obviously worrying about my mental health, else she would not have gone to the extreme of sending me CUTE ANIMAL PICTURES.

Please understand, I have been corresponding via email with my mother for some 15 years and she has never, to my recollection, sent me CUTE ANIMAL PICTURES. She has commented to some point about people she both admires and despairs of; she has attempted to describe her own mental state, or provide successive approximations of her own mental state. She has described her health, and then, having given a delicate shudder, gone on to more interesting subjects, like how many nights straight my father has worked.

My parents run on a steadily combusting blend of justice and genealogy, with Fred Astaire and giant insect fear films thrown in on the side.

Perhaps I malign them.

Michael Ruppert has issued a warning that the balloon is about to go up on the American economy. He says the rush to unload American dollars will happen so fast that the pundits will be left gasping like codfish. Nothing would surprise me at this point. He said something I didn’t know, though. On September 9th this past year the US Govt held it’s normal Tbill auction… and nobody showed up to buy. The US is currently importing about 2.6 billion a day just to keep its economy afloat. Given that American consumers are at the highest level of personal indebtedness in history and the credit card companies have already started jacking the rates, what will happen when the interest rates go up? The consumers will get pinned on housing and debt servicing charges, and bankruptcy will ripple through the economy like a tidal wave viewed from space. It’s time to get closer to your food supply, folks.

 

2019 says: Michael Ruppert’s dead. None of this shit came to pass.

A home computer as envisioned 50 years ago… Peggy sent me this.

I light a candle for Tom L’s father, who passed away in hospital yesterday. We are all pretty relieved it was so fast; lingering deaths are dreadful.

Almost forgot to blog this am, which probably would have annoyed my mother. I’m off to rent a car and pick up a coworker to drive to the sister office in the US. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I still feel like I’m a smuggler when I cross the border. It’s so dumb, and I can’t help it.

Anyway, I am really looking forward to it. I’m going to have a fairly long day today but the results should be worth it. The car better have a cd player, I told my coworker to bring the tunes…. more later.

Hi Pater!

Thoroughly nasty nightmare last night, woke Paul up for a change. Won’t describe it except to say that there was a lot of violence and insanity.

Came home and found Katie out cold on the sofa. She woke up just long enough to tell me what to cook her for supper. I know I don’t miss being a teenager, but maybe it’s because if I’d tried to order my mother around in quite that fashion my pater would have given me what fer.

Off to the sister office tomorrow so will be blogging from the road again.

Spoke to Jan (previously referred to as Vampire Mamma in this blog) this am, in my frantic efforts to locate bed space for my family for my visit to Toronto. Then Paul called and told me we’ll just buy bedding and foamies for Tammy and then we can all stay in the same place. If she’ll have us! We won’t be there for the whole time, thank god. Must remember to show up with massive groceries, it’s quite the undertaking to have that many people over. The worst thing about the visit is that subgroups of the people I want to see loathe each other (in that icy, cordial Canadian way – ie I wouldn’t refuse to loan you jumper cables, but you’d better say thanks and mess off when you’re done kinda thing.)

This means that a lot of my visiting will be rather truncated, because Paul doesn’t feel welcomed by some people, and various of people’s spouses loathe me, and the kids can’t deal with some people, and this next phrase deleted even if the person it’s aimed at never reads it. Of course, will I see the people I really want to? For long enough? Unlikely. But I have a list.

I have lots of other stuff to say, but it’s time to run away to work.

I am posting this for no reason whatsoever. It’s just a cool picture.