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November 29, 2005

The Desire For Hardship


Originally Uploaded here
School is winding down and many other things are winding up. In all of this is a sense of uncertainty, of unknowing of even my own desires. What exactly do I want? For now, precautionary principle reigns supreme, like a benevolent dictator. This was sometimes a paradox, but the time gives it proof. I did love you once. I couldn't do it, couldn't utter the deception to ease my own pain. Hamlet might, and while we share an unfortunate number of characteristics, I rebel against that one.

The truth is I love you so much. So many things sit in there, in the attic of my psyche, alongside it. Pride constricts around almost everything I do, giving it the illusion of a spine made of metal, but really it is just a pragmatic construct. Designed to fulfill the same function. I wish I knew if I wanted you back, I can barely manage to communicate with you, I'm so paralysed by uncertainty. It cascades over to the rest of my life, even though we never see one another.

And yet, there is so much that needs doing. Pull myself together, and stare at the sun. Be awed and striken by its majesty. Look upon the barren earth where humans claw at the dust for subsistance while we priviledged few bemoan our fates of wealth, affluence, and ease. Humans crave a certain amount of suffering, uncertain of their being alive without it. Mine shall come from ambition, not heart-ache.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Death Cab For Cutie - I Will Follow You Into The Dark
Currently Eating: Whole Wheat Wrap w/ Refried Beans, Basmati Rice, Que Pasa Salsa, Clover Sprouts, Cheddar

Posted by Kurrs at 4:57 PM |

November 27, 2005

Wake


Originally Uploaded here
The wake for my immersive theatre troupe was strange. An odd gathering of people connected through time, a string of over twenty large, many who had never met before. I played in 2002, I played in 2005, I started in 2001, I finished in 2003. I joined in the first chronicle, I was only there for the end of the fifth, I was there for the second and third. Some people didn't show that I was expecting, and others I wasn't sure would did. There was a sense of unease in the air, a gathering of people that probably will never happen again, yet still united in their sense of belonging in the myth cycle that we created.


Originally Uploaded here
I didn't cry, I was too wrapped up in making everything work. I talked for hours, trying to explain the whats, the whys and the hows, and even asked for water as my throat began to become hoarse. And, like a good wake, most everyone got pretty drunk. Megali almost passed out on her way home and I think Alex accidentally(?) kicked in my window. That, or he disappeared long enough for the random miscreants to do it. Truth be told, I really have no way of knowing, and Alex isn't even certain how he ended up outside, let alone where he had been. It was pretty scary, the sound of a breaking window bringing you to wakefulness is not something I'd liked to repeat. My landlord suggested that it was probably some drunkard and I resisted snickering.


Originally Uploaded here
The next day I read a few accounts of what people thought, and it brought the tears on again. Bereft of excuses of practicality, it struck me in waves and I can feel it resting at the edge of the shadow of my feet. I never have created anything quite so sublime as this, and in many ways I wonder if I ever will again.

Maybe I'll write...

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Metric - Grow Up And Blow Away
Currently Eating: Whole Wheat Wrap w/ Basmati Rice, Refried Beans, and Blue Cheese

Posted by Kurrs at 10:04 PM | | Comments (2)

November 24, 2005

My Hands Are Shaking


Originally Uploaded here
I look a bit mad, my eyes are glassy, and the title is correct, although far more indicative of anger than is truthful. Instead, its yet another late night (early morning?) writing a Philosophy essay. And this time, gasp, it's actually interesting. The moral validity of killing non-combatants and of terrorism. 'Tis a pity it won't be very good (sleepless unedited shash it shall be) but at least it was fun to write. I'm not quite done, and writing is becoming quite difficult. I feel like it's two years ago, temporarily tranported back to poor class habits in only one class. Whatever, I don't care, my other grades rock.

Today I had the most wonderful interaction with two blondes, one dreadlocked and the other Opheliaed. In the middle of my lines at Waterfront, I spotted Elisha, the one who I keep running into that I met at that rave (party? ravette? complete gong show?) at the end of the summer. I stumbled in my lines and she nervously rocked back and forth on her feet. She, uncertain whether to interrupt me. I, undercertain to interject a greeting. Then, like a strand breaking, allowing two magnets to rush together, we hugged and quickly exchanged joy at each other's presence. Come to monday! Phone me, I need your address! Beth described it as a pure, 6 year old reaction, Oh, there's that person, I want to talk to them but I'm not sure I'm allowed. Oh, good, I can, yay. When I got back Genevieve said You cheating bastard, or something equally clever along those lines. Wonderous, that girl is grand.

I got my emo on tonight after the rehearsal, it was good, got alot of stuff off my chest. Ate pretty well into my writing time, or sleeping time, as the case may be, but I don't regret it. Beth is, as always, absolutely wonderful, even though I probably am the cause of a certain amount of loss of sleep with my innane babblings.

I wonder if I should sleep at all tonight...

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: the rushing and dripping of water
Currently Eating: More Wrapalicious goodness, with hot Apple Cider. yum

Posted by Kurrs at 5:12 AM |

November 23, 2005

The Fog Remains

Last night I watched La Ronde, which is a play about sex. Sex in Vienna during the late 1800s, but sex nonetheless. The play is divided into ten scenes, each with only two characters, and each is set around the sex act (before, after, before and after, etc). Only one characer stays from scene to scene, every character only stays for two scenes and the first character (the prostitute) is also the last. Enjoyable and funny, there were only a few points I didn't like (for some reason the Sweets Girl and the Poet scene irritated me something fierce). It was neat, more than anything, setting an entire play around sex.

Lots and lots of period underwear was used.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Death Cab For Cutie - I Will Follow You Into The Dark
Currently Eating: Whole Wheat Wrap w/ Refried Beans, Basmati Rice, Salsa, Avacadoes, Cherry Tomatoes, Clover Sprouts, Cheddar

Posted by Kurrs at 10:05 AM |

Late Night Additions


Originally Uploaded here
The fog thickens with every day, clinging to your skin and condensing along it and in your hair. I keep thinking it's raining before realising that the clouds have come to play and they're wet. It means I get colder and should remember to wear more layers. It's no Winnepeg, but I should remember that it reminds me that Winter is Coming, no matter how west coast that winter is.

I talked to Erin tonight, late, over a phone but both wrapped in heavy blankets. We talked about dissastisfaction, emotional upheaval, and an abiding solid foundation of contentment or happiness, as the case may be. She says we're emotionally entangled without all that other stuff. It's good now, I bring her to family dinners and it feels like she fits, sometimes you meet family and think they're a lover she remembers me saying quite some time ago. The similarities of me and Jhayne's speech patterns even before we had ever met amaze me still.

Written On: Home Computer

Posted by Kurrs at 1:03 AM |

November 22, 2005

Loose Strings


Originally Uploaded here
Spookiliciously, a thin veil of fog rests over the entire city. The girl who I'm not supposed to talk about would approve (no, not that one, the other one). I've been taking pictures, wandering around campus before my classes, giving it a shot (I hope the pun isn't too painful). I complained to Jhayne and Navi about their particularly savant natures when it comes to cameras. That's ok, I have drive, it closes all gaps.

Chunhyang last night was pure distilled joy. Thinking it was a film that merely included p'ansori, it was in fact a p'ansori film. I laid in Beth's lap and writhed in happiness at every onomatopoeia, every growling song, every humourous trope, and every long-winded wandering (yes, wandering!) metaphor. Truly wonderous.

I ran into Jesse, whom I haven't seen in 9 years! He was more built, his face covered in blond facial hair he probably couldn't have grown last time I saw him. He was in Edmonton for 4 years, How was it? It sucked. Last time I saw him he was a bike-courier drop-out, now he's become a construction worker with an ethical slant. He always was my kind of guy. He reminds me of Avery, so much that I can't help but feel a surge of love when I see him, so strongly does he instill rememberance. I'm trying not to have it taint my opinion positively, but I'm failing.


Originally Uploaded
here by seejackrun
I've started having a reoccuring dream again. Its content is nightmarish, but it lacks the irrational sense of fear that accompanies real nightmares, or the paralysing effect of night terrors. Instead, it seems rather matter of fact, bothering me deeply when I'm awake because of the content, not the feeling. In it, I'm struggling with a man on what might be my old livingroom with grey carpets, but might be an endlees expanse of nothingness. We fight, and a bottle rests either in the air or upon my old coffee table. I break it and cut his throat, thinking Now, his lungs will fill with blood and he will die. This time, though, it didn't end there and a thin bladed knife from the same set I used to cut myself with is at hand and I cut his throat a second time, deeper, slicing so much live meat as he chokes on his own blood. I tell him to give up, that it's inevitable, and he doesn't. I wonder if that person is, in fact, me.

I wake up.


Originally Uploaded here
Everything in my life progresses at a nice, steady, leisurely pace right now. Sometimes, so much bad crops up that your being just defers dealing with stuff until later. Then, once a slot opens up in your schedule or baggage handling, no matter if it convinient or not, it crops up again. RCW is going well, I'm putting stupid amounts of work into it. A philosophy paper sits unwritten, but slowly I'm working on it, should write some tonight. My thesis really needs some poking, I'll get around to it soon methinks. I've been reading Neil Gaiman's Sandman, with Tim's pirating help, spurred onto it because of Marshall's lecture. I will read the Metamorphoses next. I bought a copy of Izo, and a stupendously good copy of Ying Xiong sits on my hard drive. I very much want to watch both.

I'm on the 99, near Granville. I should post some of the old night pictures I used to take of the alley that led to my old house.

Written On: Laptop

Posted by Kurrs at 4:12 PM | | Comments (1)

November 21, 2005

A Frightfully Stereotypical Interaction


Originally Uploaded
here by ferahga
What a wonderfully stereotypical student I am. No, wait, even worse. A student activist.

So here I am, once again, having work to do while Beth goes to bed. I'll probably go to sleep before four. Some sort of strange alternative workaholic husband, I almost feel like I belong in some bizarro world set in the 1950s. In the very least the clothing I would have would look nice.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently: working...

Posted by Kurrs at 12:52 AM |

November 19, 2005

Rollercoaster


Originally Uploaded
here by icathing
I haven't seen her in two weeks.

If I went that long without seeing you I'd go crazy.

The last two weeks have been a bit of a rollercoaster. Up down, busy not, happy sad, relaxed stressed. I'm rather glad it's over, the next week looks wonderfully manageable. Well, at least I hope it is.

I went to see the new Harry Potter movie. Unlike pre-purchasing madness leading to burning film, I just leisurely strolled down to the VanEast, half an hour before show-time, bought myself a ticket and sat down. However, on the way there, the strangest thing happened. I got offered marijuana from someone holding a clear tupperware container larger than a shoebox full of pot. The casual nature of his offer while holding enough bud to get himself right proper jailed floored me. The weirdest thing of the event is that none of the other people I was wish, five or so strong, noticed.


Originally Uploaded
here by TwoCrabs
So, the most expensive film ever made didn't disappoint, I enjoyed it rather throughly. However, I couldn't help but wonder where the devil all that money went. Three hundred and twenty million is no small amount (ten million more than it took to make the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, by the by). Tyler joked that they burned Canadian money of the right colour to get the goblet of fire to burn right. That's why, I pointed out, The fire only burned red for a moment. They used fifties.

I haven't been eating nearly well enough, story of my life I suppose. There were days in which I had stuff to do for over 8 hours straight, no pauses, and it meant I just existed off of adrenaline and determination. Which I am good at, but is not good for me.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Beethoven - Symphony No. 5 in C
Currently Eating: Peanut Butter and Pickle Sandwich

PS Go visit www.sockbaby.com and watch episodes 1-3. Where else can you find 70s clothing, aviator glasses, a robot, black and white villains, completely over the top dialogue, martial arts, fighting using bling, all for a sock puppet who is jesus to the sock race? Are you watching it yet?

Posted by Kurrs at 3:47 PM | | Comments (4)

Today, Go Vote

Tell your friends.

You can vote if you:

* are 18 years of age or older
* are a Canadian citizen
* have lived in B.C. for at least six months
* have lived in Vancouver for at least 30 days

So bring ID with an address and some back-up ID. Stamped letters and parcel-wrappers are good.

to find out where to vote, click here.

for descriptions of all candidates in their own words, click here.

Posted by Kurrs at 8:09 AM |

November 16, 2005

Poverty in Sub-Saharan Africa

While doing research* for my thesis, I ran into some numbers that I remember shocking me when I read them the first time. Sometimes I wonder if people realise stuff like this:

Currently, over 50% of people in sub saharan Africa live under the extreme poverty line as defined by the World Bank. This means that, after adjusting for both currency differences and puchasing power parity (some things are cheaper in other places than others), they live off less than $200 a year.

To get a sense of what that means, try living off less than a dollar a day. Because the number is represented in US dollars and already adjusted for pricing differences, this should be about accurate. Heck, let's make you a bit wealthier or assume that Canadians pay a bit higher prices for stuff, you get a toonie a day. Buy yourself all the clothing, shelter (read: rent and utilities), food, and entertainment for that day with just a twoonie. Congradulations, you're now living wealthier than 1 in 2 Africans living south of the Saharan desert.

Doesn't that just fuck with your brain? That's why I get pissed off when people say they're poor. No one in Canada is that hard done by, no-one.

Written On: Home Computer

* If you feel like reading an excellent paper on the topic, read "The Economic Tragedy of the XXth Century: Growth in African" by Elsa V. Artadi and Xavier Sala-i-Martin.

Posted by Kurrs at 9:31 PM | | Comments (1)

After A Midterm


Originally Uploaded here
There's that weird feeling again, that sense of blankness. A feeling that percolates through me like coffee, not imbibing but infusing. Why would anyone want to read this? I want to say that my life lacks any poetry, but that's wrong, a romantic throwback that says that meaning goes here but not there. Even I, who have been accused of being that melodramatic romantic, still can't help but realise that everything is a matter of perspective. Things have meaning because you give them meaning. It's impossible to escape, eventually you deconstruct until there's nothing left, just a field of molecules that is a collection of atoms that is a collection of particles, that maybe is a collection of strings. Within a context, things can have meaning, but without context, nothing does.

I ran into a kindly little irish boy who shares my brother's name today. It was nice, we wandered around looking for a computer for him to use. He reminds me of how I was when I first got in, he's even got that wonderfully incongruous mix of youth and wear. A mop of hair that covers up the face of a twelve year old (his words, not mine) with visible facial scarring. How delightfully Canadian that it came from a hockey puck.

Written On: Laptop
Currently Listening: the chatting of young academics upon a canvas of a faint whirr

PS Man, that midterm was really easy.

PPS Today I attended a lecture on the similarities between Neil Gaiman's Sandman and Ovid's Metamorphosis, isn't that cool?

Posted by Kurrs at 3:43 PM |

November 14, 2005

Insecurity


Originally Uploaded here by Rosina

Rising in my throat and up through to my head to rest behind my eyes is a sense of panic. So many things that I need to get done on a short time-frame, trying to figure out how to juggle them all. The real trick is not having enough time but using that time to most efficient. Sometimes half an hour worth of walking makes for increased productivity that more than makes up for the lost time. But these things are capricious, and I'll still figuring my way about.

But this sense of panic is causing havoc on one of those areas I still don't have a very good grasp on. Insecurity. Somehow I have to trust that the you that I saw last will be the you I see next. That Re-evaluations Of Our Relationship Without Your Input won't happen. My fear of that occuring is placed alongside similarly crippling things like phobias, bordering on a sense I might call terror. I try to hold onto the kiss on the cheek, the smile accompanied by beautiful eyes over the rims of glasses. Because that is real, and the rest, fabrications.

My largest difficulty is that my fabrications have been proven right in the past. Not entirely fair, or proper. Irrational beliefs shouldn't be supported by empirical fact, it merely makes letting go of them all the more difficult.

Anyhow, I have stuff to do. KMM is tonight, see those of you there that I will.

Written On: Laptop
Currently Listening: swish swish of a laundry machine, thumk thumk of a dryer
Currently Eating: Mom's Chicken Cannelloni & Pumpkin Pie with Whipped Cream

Posted by Kurrs at 11:53 AM |

November 13, 2005

Like A Crab


Originally Uploaded
here by yancs
Dancing. Dancing to mediocre music. An event of strangely dull nature. A series of moments lacking the normal intensity. This is the first Sin City I've attended while emotionally stable. No great elation, no great release. Just dancing, random girls commenting on my hair, seeing people I wasn't expecting to see.

Waiting. Waiting while actually good music played. Combichrist. Bastard. Discussing the roots of my supposed madness. Triggers and moments lost, perception.

Filling out my alphabet, seeing Amanda. Being unable to find Tyler. Leaving on a SkyTrain. Don't tell me how to run my fucking relationships. Getting ready, realising that Eugene takes a surprisingly long time to get ready. Leaving.

Les Belles Soeurs, proof positive that the opposite of a sausage party is just as bad, although possibly funnier. Laughing, footbag, Jay. A superbly cute couple.

Meghan, whose name somehow sums up the daylit hours. Toss in words of food, pasta salad, pakoras. Spice to taste with window shopping. Serves 1.

Written On: Home Computer

Posted by Kurrs at 3:41 AM | | Comments (2)

November 12, 2005

Maybe It's Best I'm Alone Tonight


Originally Uploaded here by extrapolar
The last two days were really nice. Wednesday night was (as my readership probably noticed) less than fun, leading to less than 4 hours worth of sleep. However, Beth dropped by after Deirdre's performance at around midnight and that was a welcome break (even though she went to sleep and I worked on the essay for another four hours). The next day was korean drumming, Philosophy, RCW meeting, the orientation I ran for my volunteers, and then an adventure of mistaken time. Top it off with a viewing of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (which, like every single other time I've watched it, I sobbed afterwards), and we're done.

Today was sleeping in (11am feels like the day is gone when you wake up at it), then a bed-based viewing of House of Flying Daggers. Other than some french toast and general breakfast gorging, I don't think I got anything else done before rehearsal. [edit]No, I did play some Zertz.[/edit] Which was pretty cool.

However, the rehearsal threw me totally out of whack, in a few ways. Tim and Erin hung out with me afterwards, making marvelously tasty burritos, but I felt totally discombobulated, couldn't even sit and read or write. Just generally uncomfortable. I've tried going to sleep, that didn't work for some reason.

It may be for the best I'm alone right now, I probably wouldn't be very good company.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: La Bottine Souriante - Le Rossignol Sauvage

PS I didn't write about Remembrance Day, even though it is by far my favourite holiday of the year. This is weird.

PPS I've been uploading a preposterous amount of music recently, feel free to have a look a a few lists here.

Posted by Kurrs at 12:50 AM |

November 10, 2005

Plants


Originally Uploaded here by bokchoyboy

An onion. A strange metaphor I've used more than once to describe myself. I like it, unflattering and to the point. Layers upon layers, so surprisingly different yet similar, and it's entirely likely I'll make you cry.

You peel enough layers off this root, it starts to break down. And bits of truth I've covered with layers of strength start to wear me down, like burning rust cascading downwards like a waterfall. Erosion of metal in some strange firery reversal of gravity, or perhaps gravitas.

I'm guilty, for I am so very much like you. You came to me with want in your eyes and this time I did not mistake it. I did this came the report, aren't you proud of me? And I should have been. Too much sexuality and love wrapped up in that fruit though, soft tender insides grounded by a sharp seed. Every time I try to devour you I cut myself.

And that's the truth of it, your plum for my lychee. Beth pegged me, and maybe my onion is a little bit too much perfect emo-symbolism to actually be true, like the drug addiction paradigm of the existing pharmacracy. A sharp, bony shell, like being wrapped in rose thorns like a thin-wristed girl. But soft and easily broken translucent layers underneath, thin skinned yet complex, like webbing forming a glass sculpture. And last, but not least, the core, the nut, my actuality, the last point of pragmatism that I cannot escape.

Nor do I wish to.

Goodnight.

Written On: Home Computer

Posted by Kurrs at 3:33 AM |

November 9, 2005

LJ-style whining

This topic is boring and I don't care, this topic is boring and I don't care...

Discuss the moral validity of Vancouver's safe injection sites. Fuck, could we do something at least slightly morally contentious? Maybe the legalisation of drugs, hummm? But nooooooo, we had to do an issue that very carefully avoided any issues other than purely medical.

ARG, I've done all the reading but I've written nothing. Not. One. Word. And I don't want to. You know why? Because I don't care. Wasting time and brain power on this issue is just that, waste. If anyone were to bring this issue up to me verbally, I would casually dismiss it because of it's inherently simplicity. If the person were to really push, I'd address any of their concerns quickly and succiently so that we could get off this boring and easy issue. It's not even a dilemma, why are we doing this?

It's my fault for taking a basic moral issues class. But guess what? There IS NO ADVANCED ONE. How am I supposed to have respect for a field in which I think almost the entirety of an undergraduate in Philosophy should have been learned in HIGH SCHOOL. I mean, our public education system blows so that doesn't happen, but it easily could have. I don't believe there is a single undergraduate Philosophy class - with the possible exception of a history of philosphy class (which would be hard just because of the impossibility of actually knowing all of history) - that would challenge me.

Therefore I get low grades, because I don't care. I'm getting over 90% in all my other classes, yet this is the easiest. This happens every term, maybe eventually I'll learn to not take easy courses...

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: the low grumbling of my own frustration

Posted by Kurrs at 11:25 PM |

What I Want...

...Is to be at Dee's performance at Lamplighter with Beth. Then, we could come back here, make portabella mushroom burgers (I even have everything necessary), play Zertz, fool around on the Cello, and then go to sleep.

Then, tomorrow, after school, I would go to Tyler's and play Shadow of the Colossus and then see Tim's play.

However, what I want more is to do well at school. Or, more appropriately, not fuck up big time. So instead, I'm here, writing my philosophy essay on a topic so basic that I can hardly give a flying fuck, and then tomorrow I'll work on my research proposal due Friday.

sigh

Work. Ethic.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: clackety clack, drip, clack, drip drip, clackty clack, clack, drip...
Currently Eating: something soon...

Posted by Kurrs at 8:47 PM |

November 8, 2005

While Listening To Korean Music


Originally Uploaded
here by EL Groovy
P'ansori is really neat. It's what if chain-smoking blues vocalists developped in Korea. Probably not everyone's cup of tea, but I really dig it.

I've been a bit out of balance lately, thrown a bit off of equilibrium by my weekend of doing nothing. No, not the last one, the one before that. Ever since I've been a bit... off. A series of events led to this, my LARP's end, my uncle's death, my brother's leaving. I'm just a bit more emotionally unstable. Unstable compared to now, Erin reminds me. If this is emotional unstability, this I can handle. Productivity has been way down, but no huge mood swings... I could get used to this.

The memory of her scent lingers, smelling like the feeling of curling into the indent between neck and jaw, where the jaw turns slightly to point towards the ear. That's what she smells like. The evening wasn't enough, an exhausted curling of limbs, barely any words were said, all our interaction blunted by the dim glow of a television or the constraints of exhaustion and company. I suppose it is possible that we ran out of words the previous day, arguing for hours in a discussion that got lost behind whether or not you could use the term human nature. But it wasn't enough. I wouldn't take it back, but gods... am I tired.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: The South Korea CD from MUSC328 (if you d/l, be warned, it's not for everyone. If you do, check out the Sanjo track and then the P'ansori track before discarding it because of the first few.)

Posted by Kurrs at 3:00 PM | | Comments (1)

November 6, 2005

Fond Farewells


Originally Uploaded
here by flybaby
Today I got dread maintenance done. Always a rather religious experience, Hedy is also wonderful company for the three hours it tends to take. I only go every 10 months or so, I should go more often but... meh. I guess it's a manifestation of my traditional sense of masculinity rearing it's face... or something.

I went to a seafood restaurant and ate organic chicken with my family minus the east coast sister. It was Pat's going away dinner, it was strangely courteous and unconfrontational (we tend to argue). Patrick's clothing and belongings are strewn about the basement of the parents'. I was worried about the trip across Canada in the winter until I realised he has survived in conditions like the ones in the prairies right now only without shelter or much else. Having taught survival training, he tells me - rightly so - that he'd be find almost no matter what.

I drank a fair amount of white wine, it's effects swirl slightly about my head. I said goodbye, strangely, in some bizzare uncharacteristic machismo. As if to start to say I'm a guy, I don't mind you're gone, I'm no woman about all this and for once it was Pat who seemed less full of Italian male-stupidity syndrome. I must admit, when we hugged, it had the weight of planets. He might be right back... but... what if things work out, what if you/I don't come back? was the unspoken words upon the air.

I'm proud of him, but the truth of the matter is, I've hardly been able to think about much else since I realised he might not be coming back. It's that time of year it seems, that time of my life more appropriately.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Death Cab For Cutie - Transatlanticism (full album)

Posted by Kurrs at 8:52 PM | | Comments (1)

November 5, 2005

Stalled


Originally Uploaded here by mrcraige

Last night I intended to go home and write a report I had to write after rehersal. Several hours later, I noticed that Beth had had just about as much luck as I had doing her schoolwork. We should have just eaten french toast instead. And, an hour later, we were. Better late than never, I wish we had figured that out earlier; it would have been better for my sleep schedule. However, these things are hard to predict.

The next morning I was again staring uselessly at some work that needed to be done. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other. My mother's words remind me that I just need to start and these things will finish themselves. I touch base briefly with a continued lover's spat that spans two people who are very dear to me. I reach out again, this time through telephone wires to my beloved faux sibling, and we decide that some quality "family time" is in order. Sweet Cherubim, Zertz, cat sitting, and hours of transit later, we part ways.

Alone again, I miss Dominique. I know it's only been a week, but Halloween already feels like ages ago and when I saw her was before that. My brother is to leave, perhaps indefinitely, to Winterpeg early Monday morning, having just finished his float-plane rating. The word of the day is balls. He's not travelling to employment, or perspective employment, but instead the possibility of getting a job that leads to the possibility of a pilot's job. After two years or some such madness.

I'm going to try and make the family go away din din on Sunday night, after the religious experience that is dreadlock maintenance. Hopefully between now and then I'll get all the school work I need to get done done.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Wolf Parade - Modern World
Currently Eating: Cucumber and Cream Cheese

Posted by Kurrs at 7:50 PM |

November 4, 2005

Like Oaken Barrels Full Of Wine


Originally Uploaded here
I almost have yet to have a fourth year prof who doesn't think I should be doing masters work. Not should apply for graduate school but instead you should be doing masters work right now instead of this. After expressing my frustration at the beginner nature of the Natural Resources class, Munro said to me sounds like you should be doing graduate classes. I still can't wrap my brain around the time Neary asked for my opinion on an issue because he didn't have the answer and thought I might. Etc. I'm not sure I agree, I don't know if my math is strong enough (otherwise I'm sure I'd be fine), but it certainly is flattering.


Originally Uploaded here
I'm doing badly in my Philosophy class, mostly out of a lack of trying. It's hard to write essays when you think the person grading them is decidedly less intelligent than you are. It's hard to become enthused about topics when you spent most of the class time curbing your tongue due to the fact that I've already thought of the issues being presented in class. Every... single... one. My prof has even specifically apologised to me afterwards because I'm operating at a level higher than the class. Instead, I act like some sort of rationality gestapo, jumping down anyone's throat if and only if their arguments are inconsistent.


Originally Uploaded here
I'm surrounded by statements about how I've grown up about how I've become more mature. Perhpas I should chafe under this, but I feel colder now, more reasonable, more acutely aware of the things that make myself and others tick. More responsible with my actions and words. I agree, I didn't have my shit together, and now I do. Echoes of that still haunt me, but I will live with them, as everyone should.

There's still some things under my skin, frustrations at the immaturities and irresponsibilites of some of those who have taken up residence in my heart. I should be more careful with that doorway, but I certainly havene't been so far. I shouldn't judge others for their spoiled brat nature, but I do. Don't be surprised when a useless twat acts in accordance with its revealed inclination.


Oh, and I'm infatuated again. You could lose mountains in those eyes. I can practically hear Megali's voice in reply Just how many women do you need Christopher?

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Wolf Parade I'm not sure I like it, too ruddy pretentious, reminds me of The Smiths...
Currently Eating: Big Don's Vegitarian Antipasto oh my gods this stuff is good

Posted by Kurrs at 3:19 PM | | Comments (1)

November 3, 2005

Who Would Fardels Bear?


Originally Uploaded here
I cannot quite grasp the expressions to describe just how thankful I am for the changes that have occurred in me. I'm actually, honestly, emotionally stable and it passes through me like shattering glass raising goosebumps along my skin, up my spine, and causing my hair to stand on end. Love is still the most important thing to me, it wraps around everything I do, everything I see, just... everything. Instead of distilling it, squandering it, wasting it on individuals, it wraps through me and outwards from there. Love without self-love is hardly love at all but a jealous expression of worthlessness, an expression of cursed possession. You hold on so hard it hurts them.

Every word I speak, every action I undertake, is a manifestation of my will. I have said this before, and still mean it. Now, though, it is clearer, the purpose better understood. I wish my lips spoke only truth, because truth matters so very much to me. Not the opposite of a lie, but a statement of what is. But my words being my will, this I know. Sometimes I speak lies, mostly by accident, but always a manifestation of what I want.

I told the other organisers of Responsible Consumption Week that I was proud, glad, and impressed by what we accomplished. I also told them that I was naturally terse, rough around the edges, maybe even mean. I don't think you're mean. I don't fear honesty, I'm just afraid of what it will do to others. Well, I'm abrasive at least.

Last time I was struck down by the incompatability of me and an Ilana, a dysjunction of being. So diametrically opposite, but similar enough in certain fundamentals to grate on each other in a manner hard to describe. Last time, it beat me, not the person mind you, but the interaction defeated me. It hurt, it felt like I was being judged, and I didn't stand up, and fix it, or at least endure it while I let the problem fix itself.

This time, even though it was so similar, I weathered it, I stood firm. I said that I was this way and that I expect no one else to be or react that way, and I allowed the other to be different, accepted the differences and waiting for them to reciprocate.

And you know what? They did. My gods, the things I might accomplish in this new being. It blinds me, like the sun.

Written On: Laptop on the 99S bus blogging yo

Posted by Kurrs at 8:13 PM | | Comments (1)

November 1, 2005

Active Uselessness


Originally Uploaded here
I don't think I really accomplished anything terribly productive this weekend. And I can't be bothered to care.

Saturday was walking around the drive, dinner with Patti, Saw II (oh yes, there will be blood), and then the evening with Dominique.

Sunday was wandering around getting all the neccesary cello pieces, making home-made pasta sauce, and then an early night with Beth.

Monday was Halloween silliness. I barely spent any time on campus at all, I don't think I even said one word to anyone there or even was there longer than 60 minutes total. Arrive, school, leave. Then a quick viewing of A Series of Unfortunate Events (very pretty, lots of good ideas, the pacing felt a bit off, not a bad kid's movie though), followed by... well, look at the picture. Then pumpkin carving, questions, and a quiet little Korean movie with friends.

My brother's going away soon, possibly only for a month, possibly for good, so I'm spending a fair amount of time with him. I think I may end up seeing Saw II with him again tonight.

My life is pretty damn fine these days.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Sugar Ray - Every Morning
Currently Eating: nothing, should fix that...

Posted by Kurrs at 2:47 PM | | Comments (2)