WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES/ YOU’RE THE FIRST THING I SEE

There is no greater motivation to updating the blog than procrastinating on an impending deluge of homework.

School has indeed begun again and it’s busier than Britney Spears’ ___________ at a __________ convention . The only shitty thing is that it has been solely classroom work so far which isn’t all that inspiring. However, after next week we are shooting for most of February, which should be totally rad. I can’t wait for that to start.

The last couple of weeks have treated me well. My pals Jhen and Skip have returned from their drug mule camp abroad and held a swiggity-sweet Justin Timberlake themed party at their place on the 20th. Pictures of said party can be viewed here

It’s awesome; in every picture of me I am standing by myself not talking to anyone. I am a fucking gem.

Most of the weekends, however, have been monopolized by CBC triple-headers of hockey, going to the theatre and getting horribly, horribly addicted to the HBO series Deadwood – see it! I am left shaken and stirred.

As far as major motion pictures are concerned: Blood Diamond and, going back to JT, Alpha Dog are both well done - the former being the better of the two, for sure.

For you right-brained music nerds, I am in love with the Jeremiah Tattlebaum album Woke Up With a Bellyache. “When I Close My Eyes” is the song of the month. I long to say those words to a smiling girl in rain soaked sneakers and a runny nose.

The not drinking and healthy diet have been adhered to since New Years I am proud to say. The diet is fine, I have no problems with it, the drinking I’m not sure will take. It can make you pretty effing grouchy to be surrounded by drunken people when sober. And as odd as it may sound I think drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever your vice of choice might be is not so much as an escape as it is a leveler.

Allow me to explain. When functionally completely sober I am constantly tossed between ecstatic and depressed. I find a comfortable, chewy middle ground impossible to stay on for more than a bus ride. Alcohol always put things in prospective for me. If happy, it killed my inner Momus and allowed me to loudly express it. If sad, it elated me or gave me an (seemingly) appropriate theater in which to vent and get it off my chest. I don’t know why that is and it kind of bothers me that it’s the case. Or maybe boozing stopped me from writing verbose and pedantic blog posts. Shit, maybe I just like getting drunk…but after Christmas break, I don’t think that’s it either. Ah, whatever it’s a moot point. At this juncture I can’t honestly afford to be a regular six-pack of Lucky Lager enjoyer.

I think over things too much.

An Open Letter To All The Angels With Dirty Faces.

Well, Sikhism, you finally made it. In a nation that boasts the birthplace of Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism you were always the odd faith out. Yes, the religion my parents subscribe to and I was brought up in, which only started in the 1400s always appeared to be the Ringo Starr of dogmatic belief. But no longer.

With news of three Sikh priests charged with sexual assault, sexual exploitation, sexual interference and invitation to sexual touching of a young boy you’ve finally joined rank with the big boys. Catholicism ain’t got shit on you, brother. I mean, forget the archaic notion of morality, or the downright fraudulent causes of tolerance and brotherhood, the real common ground between all religions worth their salt is their predilection toward – nay – their love affair with child molestation.

Jeez, what took you so long, Sikhs? Tripped on your turbans on the way to the boy toucher seminar? I will give you credit on one thing, though. Kudos to your bureaucracy on keeping your criminality a secret for over a decade and your sly use of the fear of god and adherence to scripture to keep your child victim doubly scared and ashamed of telling anyone about being your plaything. Good call on that one!

Shock of all shocks, it has been reported on cbc.ca that your particular sect existed outside of mainstream Sikhism and that your priests were sworn to celibacy. Hmmm…just like Catholic vicars. Perhaps this might be a good time for your pal Jesus or Guru Nanak Dev to descended on his blessed Segway made out of virgin skin and suggest that maybe, just maybe, celibacy is the greatest perversion and this denial of a basic and enjoyable human desire can lead to deviant behavior. But, hey, what do I know? I’m just a stupid, sane atheist…you guys have God on your side.

What is it about kids that appeals to you guys, anyway? It is just that they're easier to manipulate and control? Or maybe you think its keeping them pure or your illusion of them pure at least? By killing everything that makes them kids, by raping the innocence out of them and destroying who they are as people before the world really gets to know them you get to keep them perfect. You were privy to the wonder-lust and gregariousness of them, and yes, you stole it from them and everyone else who will meet them, but you can keep the memory of this person (before and after you’ve ruined them) with you. Like a picture of Marilyn Monroe – forever falsely portrayed as a one dimensional sex object. No real person there to worry about, right fellas of the cloth? I wonder how you reconcile that with your belief in some fantastic, invisible deity you’ve pledged to represent and serve. Kinda hypocritical ain’t it?

But, hey, I suppose hypocrisy (unlike fucking little kids) is something we're all guilty of sometimes. Myself, included. For, before my head hits pillow tonight, I will, on bended knee, say a little prayer. A wistful little entreaty that, for one glorious instant, I am wrong. That there is actually a hell and you and your ersatz sacrosanct cronies burn in it forever and ever and that justice is served. Justice that myself and my fellow non-believers, in our dreamless sleep, feel is a more and more spurious notion.

Bending a Wrench With His Bare Hands

Well, I am safely ensconced in my tiny bedroom nestled between Burrard Inlet and Grouse Mountain. It was hard leaving the comforts of Ma and Pa’s, but this is where I belong and playing video games with Davis and Dylan last night confirmed this.

The first class back today was less encouraging. It seemed to go glacially slow and desert dry. I should have expected as much after a three-week hiatus. It’ll take a couple days for the cobwebs to clear and get the machine rolling again – man, I’m going to miss sleeping.

I wrote a 5-minute script that I was hoping to shoot in Edmonton, but in never came to fruition, but I think if I can get the actors together I will shoot it this weekend with the boys.

For some reason I had some paralyzing fears last night that kept me up. They mostly involved me being ineffectual. That I’ll never make it movies. That I’m one of those people who never work and never leave their parent’s house. It was irrational and weird, but still vexatious. Do you ever feel that way? That you’re not that close to the person who you want to be? I don’t know – the best remedy is keeping busy, I guess. I think there’s a danger in having too much time for reflection. You know? All the spurious woes have time to germinate and breed.

Anyways, in closing, here’s the greatest thing I have ever seen in the whole wide world:

Falafel Pussy

I’m very tired as I write this, but I haven’t updated the bloggio in a while so I thought I should type up some shit. I have just watched and read a lot about the late comedian Mitch Hedberg and it has put me in a somber mood. However, my life – of late – has been most joyous.

Went to Don and Sarah’s for New Years and much food was eaten, many words spelled and hand hockey opponents vanquished (well, one out of three opponents anyway). It was a breath of fresh air listening to the conversations and the witty one-upmanship in most of the guests’ clever jokes and impressive breadth of knowledge…and the comments about boobs were good too. Seriously though, spending a lot of time around nineteen year old film students has precluded a lot of growing and challenging and learning on my weekend socializing sojourns which is not a good thing at all. Not that 19 year olds can’t be intelligent, but I pride myself on the friends I have in Edmonton and I feel they are some of the smartest, kindest and probing (in a good way) people around. It was refreshing, is what I’m saying.

I have decided to begin a purification of sorts for 2007. I’m going to continue my debauchery for the last few days in Alberta, but getting back to Vancouver will mean an end to some of the bad habits of first semester. Eating a lot of vegetables, no more drinking, no more eating out, and walking more around downtown and other areas as well shall be the new doctrine. That should help the body but I want to also focus on my mind and my job intensely right now. I have made the difficult conclusion that I’m not particularly smart so I have resolved to work my bag off to try and make a career out of movies.

2006 was an eventful year of ups and downs. I moved, I had the worst luck with girls since high school, I started school, I became a vegetarian, I found out what I should do with my life, I got a crush on a lesbian (this ties in with the second point), and Saddam Hussein’s hanging has ended all the problems of the Middle East! Whoo! I’m thinking of spending reading week in Iraq – you know, one of those all-inclusive deals. Cody, my man, I shall see you at the shooter table at Shah Frog’s for the Wet Hijab Contest! YEAH! WHOO!