Discussions Over A Weekend

I had a few conversations over the past few days. After a long lounging day in the park, I stopped by the Wolf on my way home to watch the NBA semi-finals. There was an older gentleman sitting beside me, and towards the end of the game, we started chatting about how much athletes get paid. It was his opinion that athletes deserve their salaries because they are clearly the best at what they do. My argument, which swayed him completely, was that how good they are at what they do is irrelevant because what they do isn't important to society. At the end of the NBA finals, it doesn't matter what team wins. It doesn't affect or benefit the population as a global whole. And that should be the determining factor of someone's salary. Teachers, doctors, farmers; these are the most important positions in society and ought to be revered as such. I also brought up to this man a point that I'd written about earlier, which is that modern sports are absolutely identical to the Roman gladiators. They are a distraction from the real problems of the times.

The following day, sitting out on the steps of the Vancouver Art Gallery, there was a choir of some religion across the street singing. All over the streets, there were members of the group going around handing out brochures and CDs. A gentleman that was sitting next to me took one of the brochures and looked through it, telling me that he hoped to find out to which religion these people belonged. He did not. Somewhere in our chat, we began to compare the effect of religion and advertising and the products that they pushed. How much different the approach was to sell an invisible product, and if the concept of fear was more beneficial than the actual need for a product. In the end, we came to no conclusion. It was much too sunny to think.

Feet Into Ashes

On the edge of a desert cliff, staring down into an endless black, I wonder how I might cross. There is a fountain on the other side. Overflowing. Trickling down into the gorge. As long as I have been here watching it, sun beating me to ash, it's been gathering below me. Years, years, years, it must be a river by now. So thirsty, the water could catch me.

I do not look back. Turn, walk the world around. Feet burn in the sand with every step. Everything is behind me, I know it. And everything I need is on the other side of that canyon. I know this. So I do not look back.

And when I arrive at the other side, when I finally reach the fountain, I drink from it. And I live. And then I look across the emptiness and see myself standing there, staring. Thirsty. Lost in dreams.

When I wake, I wonder which side I am on. If I'm really living or if it just feels that way. And I wonder if maybe, if I'm not willing to dive, if I should at least start walking.

Ups and Downs, Ups and Downs

Yesterday I hurt my hand and I hurt José. I'm bruised and she's scratched. Trying to throw things together for my trip is cumbersome now. I leave in about 5 hours and – although I did just wake up – I'm feeling a wee bit down. I'm definitely not as thrilled as I should be; but all in due time.

I am most excited to see King Khan and the Shrines, Gogol Bordello, Mos Def, and The Knux. And in the between times, I have much to see and much to think about.

José And I Went Camping

Tonight at around six, I threw together what camping gear I have, strapped it all to José, and took off to the unknown. As it turns out, there is some unknown close to home, and that's where I'm writing this now. From somewhere I don't know.

By the time I got to the provincial campground, it was well full. The first night of a long weekend in Canada. I really should have predicted this. But as I was leaving the campground, I found a narrow graveled path blocked off by some rocks. I moved them out of the way, rode my motorcycle through, and moved them back. Scouting out the area, I found that up ahead was an intersection with a mountain bike course. Near there is where I've set up camp for the night.

My tent is about 15 meters from a quiet mountain road, with José resting vigilantly right outside. There is infrequent traffic going to and from the campground, which will stop once the gates close at 11. So until they open again at 6, I will be perfectly alone.

As I lay here in my tent with frogs chirping to my left and distant twigs snapping to my right, being alone isn't as great a benefit as it was before. I'm beginning to become concerned with wildlife. Bears and cougars in particular. I've decided that this is a realistic possibility; fortunately, I have also decided that I've taken adequate precautions. First, I cooked my dinner approximately 30 meters from my tent and left any scented remains there. Second, I am really, really hoping the first thing works.

From the security of my sleeping bag and tent - (comprising literally millimeters of protection!) - I think of ways to improve my camping experience. Things like researching wildlife in the area, a perimeter sensor system of fishing line and bells, and good ol' bear spray. Also, using retrospective common sense, setting up a tent that blocks off a cutline might be inconveniencing something much bigger and meaner than myself.

I doubt I'll sleep well tonight. I know José is right outside and that any wildlife will be immediately deterred if I trigger the alarm. But still, as I clutch the remote control, I think of years of predatory evolution. Savage machines of muscle and claws and fangs.

Thank god for these opposable thumbs.

Midnight, Thursday

Evening: Lost a great game of Ultimate. Played hard. Came home and left again without time to wash the dirt off my arms and legs. Ran to church several blocks away. Missed a few songs, but grinned wildly when he played Unsingable Name. Ran to a bank. Ran back to church. Mike Doughty liked my hat, my feet are bigger, and I finally paid him the money I owed him. Got some falafel, took a shower, wrote this.

Now we're properly caught up.

Change or Refocus

I think somewhere between yesterday and a few months from tomorrow, thetrigger.net will once again change. Less emphasis on writing and with broader purpose. It must.

Last night I started a clearer timeline of events in my Great Big Project. A few things need to be adjusted, like pacing and clarity, and a few other things need to be added to show the main character's misperception of reality. I know I can figure this thing out, I know this. I can't wait to finally get a final draft together that I am satisfied with. Not to forget the two previous final drafts that I was satisfied with.

Finally, I think self-publishing might be fun.

Awaiting an Ending

I keep hitting roadblocks on this Great Big Project. All I want is for it to be done, for it to make sense and come together on its own. And it's nearly there, but a few final bits have to be thought out. It's getting to the point when for a few moments I just want to scrap the entire thing, but stray beliefs in its overall strength prevent that. I have other ideas I could be doing instead. Songs, stories, travels. But - oh, blast - I owe it to these characters to give them an ending. They've been waiting for it for two years now.

Wonderful Weekend Past

Seeds, stems, roots, branches... it's interesting how such great things can grow in an interconnected, layered weave of life. How the course of past interaction is what has built the present. I'd never be where I am today if I'd never met Her, I'd never have met Her if I'd never met Kim, I'd never have met Kim if I'd never met Glenn. The list goes on and on, down Melissa, Erin, Cam.

Spent the weekend in Kelowna at Sunflicker. My team, Möbius Strippers, beat four teams and lost to one. It was great to see my friends from Edmonton again, great to play with them again, and great to meet and play with new ones.

I want reality again. And I'll suffer it as long as I can. Better that than the lie.