A PLATE OF SHRIMP

As I continue to contemplate the experience of synchronicity in my life, I am reminded of the fantastic conspiratorial rant made by the character Miller in the cult classic "Repo Man". So next time you are thinking about a "plate of shrimp" and then hear the same words uttered by someone else at that exact moment please take careful note, there are larger forces at work.......

IT'S THE END OF CDS AS WE KNOW IT?

I have been both awe struck and perplexed by the succession of deluxe reissue/ collector's edition CDs that have been coming out lately at a breakneck speed. As a music fan this has been somewhat exhilarating as well as partially frustrating.

On a positive note I have been able to rekindle my relationship with some beloved classic albums that up until recently were only available on inferior CD incarnations (complete with poor sound quality and aesthetically questionable design and packaging to boot!).

Needless to say, the major record companies are well aware of my demographic and are happy to cater to folks like me who are willing to spend some of their dwindling disposable income on tangible music. Ultimately the promise of a few enticing extras to sweeten the deal is an appealing prospect.

Of course part and parcel with this recent reissue frenzy is the underlying sense that this all just one last gasp of air for the CD format as the music industry braces to redefine itself in the new digital landscape.In a recent review of the reissues of Radiohead's first three albums (Pablo Honey, The Bends, OK Computer) Scott Plagenhoef at Pitchfork makes the assertion that "the Beatles' September 9 remaster campaign is, arguably, the end of the CD era" and goes on to expand upon his willingness to scoop up many of the current CD reissues in the meantime, in so far as they are relevant.

This is fitting in some ways if this is indeed the case, as I remember it seeming like a huge paradigm shift the first time you could buy the entire Beatles catalogue on CD. Of course we now know just how incredibly awful and compressed these initial CDs sounded, not to mention the poor presentation of the art work and album concepts.

So if this is indeed close to the end of the CD as we know it, perhaps it is fitting to end it with what are arguably some of the most important and influential recordings of the 20th century (and I humbly beseech the music gods above to ensure that they get it right with these Beatles reissues).

The generational shift away from tangible music hit me a few years ago when I was visiting with my niece and two nephews in the small town where they live. Like any good visiting uncle would do I offered to take them out and let them pick out something from a store they like (in their case it was the local Best Buy).

I suggested they pick out a few CDs and I received a blank look of indifference from all three of them. Of course we ended up buying a few DVDs and a video game instead. It hit me instantly that tangible music wasn't a significant point of reference for them, as it might have been even 5 years earlier if I had made the same offer to kids of a similar age group.

Ultimately what will happen of course is that CDs won’t drop off the face of the earth, but will likely be available on a limited release basis (along with vinyl) at more boutique like places that cater to people who care about this sort of thing. This works for me, as I loathe having to buy my music in places that also sell household appliances.

The other side benefit of this is that as the music biz continues to go mostly digital, the CDs or records that do come out on a limited basis will likely be more interesting. Hopefully there will continue to be more attention paid to some of the more appealing design elements and content as they become less mass produced and more niche oriented.

Anyhow, I will likely be hitting one of my favourite record shops on April 18th to celebrate record store day and participate in the sacred browsing ritual that has been an integral part of my life for a few decades now. I hope to unearth a few musical treasures in the process.

It is one of those strangely comforting rituals that connects me to a part of myself that I need to remain in touch with - a sense of wonder and possibility as I browse the aisles for that one recording that might just change my life.

BEWARE OF THE HOLY HAND GRENADE!

"Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, "O Lord, bless this Thy hand grenade that with it Thou mayest blow Thine enemies to tiny bits, in Thy mercy."

So what is it exactly that inspires me to start blogging again?; the continuing global financial crisis, gang violence plaguing Vancouver, the G20 Summit, rising unemployment and social unrest around the world….

None of the above.

If anything the recent story about the Holy Hand Grenade scare in London will certainly do the trick. It seems that a replica of an iconic Monty Python prop from "Monty Python & The Holy Grail" was suspicious enough to cause the bomb squad to be called in. Apparently caution is warranted when you stumble upon an object that includes a gem encrusted cross on top of golden sphere laden with sacred text on the side.

In a "post 9/11" world defined by real (and fake) terrorism threats, with increasing levels of xenophobia, anxiety and paranoia thrown into the mix, it's not surprising that even a Monty Python gag could inspire such dread. Had someone stumbled upon these same lethal Python props even a decade ago there likely would not have been the same panicked response.

Of course we all know that the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch is completely innocuous without the appropriate instructions from the sacred text in the Book of Armaments (Chapter 2, verses 9-21), which includes the following instructions;

"First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin, then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count... Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it."

Thankfully there is a safe guard in place resulting from the fact that anyone who is numerically challenged will find it near impossible to effectively yield the Holy Hand Grenade.

Of course I do have to wonder what sort of crisis response there had been if someone placed a giant wooden rabbit outside of Parliament, or if The Knights Who Say "Ni" had shown up demanding a "shrubbery" ("one that looks nice and is not too expensive").

It is indeed a strange, absurd and wonderful world that we inhabit today, and thankfully Monty Python still has the ability to illustrate this so clearly.

TIME'S TIDE WILL SMOTHER YOU

"Park the car at the side of the road
You should know
Time's tide will smother you
And I will too"

I am forever perplexed by my mind's ability to retain certain pieces of information, while other thoughts or memories disintegrate like paper through a shredder. I am confident that there are certain well adored song lyrics that will remain readily accessible until the moment of my last breath, whereas some things of seemingly vital importance are treated like disposable ephemera by my rather fickle mind. My mind is a temperamental beast that often resists my futile efforts towards inducing submission.

I was amazed recently by my lyrical recall abilities when I began to dive back into some beloved songs by one of my favourite bands of yore, The Smiths (courtesy of the recent "Sound of the Smiths" compilation - more on this in another post).

Some of the songs I hadn't listened to for a good 7 or 8 years and I was genuinely amazed at the instant familiarity with every lyric. My memory was working in auto pilot as I took in each song and basked in the glorious visceral experience of actively engaging with the music.

I also know that it wasn't simply my mind responding to the obvious prompt of being exposed to something familiar; all of this was so embedded in my mind and I was acutely aware that even during my half decade long Smiths listening drought I would still occasionally run through entire song lyrics in my mind.

To put my "working memory" in context, I usually have to request a password reset on a bi-weekly basis at work for my desktop, as the rather "obvious" passwords I choose are often snubbed by my mind like saltines and cheese whiz at a fancy dinner party. Needless to say, my ability to remember pretty well every lyric to the entire Smiths catalogue is no small accomplishment.

I am fairly confident that I will take pretty well every song by The Smiths to the grave with me. Somehow, if I am blessed enough to live into my 80's I think I'll be humming "Cemetry Gates" or "These Things Take Time" as some hapless care aid wheels me down the hallway and has to hear me rant about the brilliant concert in '86 one more time.

Without a doubt there will be times when I utter these classic lyrics with glee as I stumble about awkwardly (complete with some helpful visuals from Monty Python for good measure);

My totally baseless and unproven scientific theory is that there is a distinct reason why the songs that we listen to during our adolescent years become so embedded in our minds. It is not exclusively the result of nostalgia, but partially connected to the new neural pathways that are opening during this period of intense brain development.

The songs we listen to during this time weave themselves through these new pathways, and perhaps in many ways inspire their growth. Your memory can't help put recall the indelible imprints that first visit these new areas of the brain that are still pliable and less static. Listening to certain songs on a repeated basis in a rather obsessive manner certainly helps as well.

Regardless of how shaky my theory is I am confident that there will always be a firm place for a number of these songs in my otherwise perilous mind. Even if I can't remember the PIN for my ATM card or recall half the birthdays in my family (I have been rescued many times by those wonderful facebook birthday alerts) I will certainly be softly humming "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" up until the time that the lights actually do in fact go out for me.

Are there lyrics or songs that your brain will likely never be able to shake, regardless of what happens to your mental capacity over time?

MEDIOCRITY IN STUNNING HIGH DEFINITION

OK, I have taken a bit of a lengthy blog break, and with the endless amount of significant material to contemplate at this junction in history I must ask for forgiveness for the following indulgence...

Why, in the name of all that is sacred and pure did some studio executive think it was necessary to transfer the movie "Short Circuit" into high definition? More importantly, why did the movie channel recently feel compelled to support this monstrosity and play it recently when I was hoping for a remastered Stanley Kubrick classic instead?

Was it really essential to relive the moment of Number 5's self actualization ("Number Five is alive!") or watch Steve Guttenberg's everyman performance in stunning 108op display resolution? Is there not some bottom line standard of decency or taste to dictate that perhaps something that was so excruciating horrible in the first place need not be upgraded to a new format?

Is it not reasonable to conclude that in some instances it may be a tad superfluous to transfer something to high def that was never intended for it? I mean, I would love a high definition transfer of "My Dinner With Andre" as much as the next person, but perhaps I can find the strength to enjoy Andre Gregory and Wallace Shawn's metaphysical musings and conversations about the New York art scene in simple standard definition. Just a thought.

Anyways, please put a stop to this madness. As a rule of thumb I would like to suggest that any film "starring" Steven Guttenberg (sorry Police Academy fans) not be transferred to high definition. In the standard format it is frightening enough, though in high definition it is glaring monstrosity that I wouldn't wish to inflict on anybody.

DIGGING THROUGH THE CULTURAL LANDSCAPE WITH MAD MEN

I have been watching the first season of the show Mad Men on DVD, and after five episodes I am struck by the sense of silent anguish and the inherent malaise that lies beneath the surface in this portrayal of the Madison Avenue lifestyle in the early 1960's. Everything sure looks "swell", but there is a constant sense of unease that is always lurking in the shadows.

There is a great scene where a suburban housewife who is clearly suffering from depression is being reassured by her hapless husband who is completely bewildered by her condition and has no reference point for dealing with this. He is genuinely perplexed, and while pointing to all their belongings asks innocently "how can you be unhappy with all of this?".

It seems that the post-war prosperity is at it's zenith, and yet we see numerous characters who despite the appearance of having all the trappings of success and material acquisition are clearly unfulfilled. It makes me wonder how our era would be portrayed 50 years from now.

I think that we risk being portrayed like a herd of lemmings being blindly distracted while the world implodes around us, remaining hypnotized and transfixed by the brilliant and glossy images and the endless barrage of information constantly at our disposal.

Although there would be some truth to this type of portrayal, I also believe that there are more people getting switched on, using technology to engage with the larger culture and become agents of change in an increasingly complex world. Hard to say, perhaps those of us who are still around in 50 years can be hired as consultants to provide some nuance to any depiction of early 21st century western society.

Regardless, I appreciate how Mad Men presents a playful portrayal of some of the more acceptable cultural norms of the early 1960's; constant drinking and smoking while at work, the subversive role of the female secretaries in the male dominated ad agency, the sincere conversations about the benefits of smoking and kids playing with pellet guns at birthday parties while their parents get drunk.

It gives us an opportunity to be a little smug about how "far" we have come, though I suppose it is more of a challenge to try and step back and take stock of our own present day absurdities and poke a few holes there. This to me is the role of good art. Whether looking backwards or forward it challenges us to step outside the dominant paradigm and take stock, if even for a moment.

A FEW THOUGHTS RE: GIANT INFLATABLE POOH

Is there anything more compelling than a story about giant inflatable pooh running amok? It certainly captured my imagination. It seems that a piece entitled "Complex Shit" by artist Paul McCarthy created havoc when it was blown away from outside a gallery in Berne, Switzerland. The end result was some broken power lines and a smashed window at a nearby orphanage.

It is actually a great metaphor for our age; large synthetic fecal matter blowing around, just like the deluge of manipulated images, false information and glossy ephemera that clogs our consciousness. After a while it builds up until it eventually becomes one giant glob that is bound to reek havoc in some sort of manner, if even on a psychic or spiritual level.

On a simpler level it's simply just fun to talk about, try discussing "giant inflatable pooh" without cracking a gigantic smile! I don't care who you are, somewhere in the recess of your soul there has to be a soft spot for all things scatological.

In response to the endless barrage of information about events in this world that inspire a sense of dread (or perhaps indifference for some), I think someone should erect a giant fan in a big open field, so that (giant inflatable?) shit can literally "hit the fan" every time something bad happens .

Not only would this be a cathartic exercise, but it would also be a brilliant illustration of how we are impacted by the seamless flow of information and events in an increasingly interconnected world. Regardless, "shit happens", and often it is increasingly difficult to ignore

OBAMA'S iPOD

The current issue of Rolling Stone covers the politically expedient topic of just what exactly the presumptive Democratic Presidential Nominee Barack Obama is grooving to on his iPod during those long flights and journeys on the campaign trail.

Sure, this may not be a big issue for some, though as we all know the type of music one listens to is often a reflection of your personality, values and whether or not you are a complete and utterly clueless moron with bad taste. (I still relish my early 90's days as a record store clerk chiding those hapless Milli Vanilli fans and trying to convince them to buy albums by The Cure instead)

In Obama's case he seems to be fairing well with his musical selections, citing artists such as Bob Dylan, Howlin' Wolf, The Rolling Stones and Stevie Wonder (his 70's era artistic zenith) as essential listening. Of course he name drops Jay-Z and will.i.am, in an attempt to give himself a little cred with the youngsters as well.

He also indicates that "Maggie's Farm" by Dylan is a favourite on the campaign trail, stating “It speaks to me as I listen to some of the political rhetoric". Score two points for the Senator from Illinois for engaging the spirit of vibrant and socially relevant music!

........ meanwhile, back at McCain world headquarters, in an attempt to be "fair & balanced", Rolling Stone tried to profile the Senator from Arizona and give him a chance to show a little musical love with his own portable player;

Apparently Gilbert & Sullivan really kicks ass at 78 rpms, and the Senator was sooo blown away by the sounds coming out of his "magical music box" that he nearly flipped his lid when he was also told about "talkies", and realized that would make an excellent tool to rally the country around his support for a 100 year long Iraq War if needed.

DISCLAIMER - I am essentially a Canuck doing a little meddling here in foreign affairs and I take full responsibility for having a profound influence on the U.S. election process in a completely biased and manipulative manner. For the record, I also promise to be as equally manipulative during the next Canadian election as well.

If any of my fine American brethren are upset about my actions or interference please refer to the wonderful words of Canada's late great Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau to put this in context;

"Living next to you is in some ways like sleeping with an elephant: No matter how friendly and even-tempered the beast, one is affected by every twitch and grunt." - Pierre Trudeau speaking to Americans during a speech at the National Press Club in 1969 -

ENGAGING ALBUM ART & JOYFULLY DEFIANT MUSIC

I recently picked up the latest CD by the band James, "Hey Ma". With the help of Brian Eno they made one of my favourite albums of the 90's ("Laid" - 1993). They dropped off my radar for a number of years, though so far the new album seems engaging enough. Tim Booth appears a little angrier in this incarnation, and on the title track he rages against the war machine;

Now the towers have fallen
So much dust in the air
It affected your vision
Couldn't see yourself clear
From the fall came such choices
Even worse than the fall
There's this chain of consequences...

Hey ma the boy's in body bags
Coming home in pieces



He also includes the obligatory mid-life reassessment on "Waterfall" where he ponders his mortality, "My mirrors laughing at me, says boy are you getting old/There’s so much junk in your life what you’ve got you don’t even know" and takes the necessary assessment of what is important in life; "Of mobile phones and plasma screens/How much junk in my life do I really need?".

Interestingly, in this age of the lowest common denominator reigning supreme via 24/7 YouTube and reality TV, the album cover caused some controversy in the UK, resulting in the cover being banned from being placed on billboards or adverts. Thankfully, the band decided not to change the album cover, and the artist Darren Hughes issued this statement;

"You need only to have a passing acquaintance with the headlines to be aware of the unfolding horror show of gun culture amongst kids in the UK. Whilst the media are quick to show condemnation.... we seem less able, less curious to raise the vital question, as to what has brought our country, our culture our kids to be so taken with guns?"

It made me think of another album cover from a lesser known 90's album, "Delaware" by the Drop Nineteens (1992). Although slightly contrived, the image of an earthy looking indie kid dangling a gun is both engaging and mildly unsettling due to its capacity to hint at the possibility of violence even from the most seemingly innocuous of sources.

Although the Drop Nineteens were not a political band by any stretch of the imagination, the album cover is striking and stands out as one of my favourites. I remember being so engaged by the cover that I picked up the album when it first came out, knowing very little about the band. Such is the power of captivating art.

In many ways I am glad that artists like James are still willing to make bold statements and are blatantly questioning the dominant paradigm. As long as there are artists prepared to do this my faith in the human spirit will remain unfettered. Also, I hope that as music becomes more predominately digital and less tangible, that the album art will somehow remain a vital component of music, adding a another necessary dimension to the dissemination of ideas in our crazy world.

VIVE LES ZOMBIS!

I love Zombie movies. Any film that has reanimated, flesh eating corpses walking around preying on the living is fine by me. Of course the really good zombie movies have some social commentary, and the real horror is often how the survivors of the zombie apocalypse treat each other, with the zombie antics paling in comparison.

Of course the master of this genre is definitely George A Romero, and I am really jazzed because I just picked up his latest film, Diary Of The Dead on DVD, which is an attempt to rejig his Zombie franchise for the YouTube generation. So when the house is still and everyone else is sleeping I am going to scare my self senseless watching this. I'll probably post a review at some point this weekend.

To me the most frightening and compelling aspect of this genre is the way that the Zombies represent how the loss of individuality and free will is itself a form of death, even though we still walk around. This was illustrated most brilliantly in Romero's Dawn Of The Dead, which critiqued mindless consumerism through images of countless Zombies wandering aimlessly in a suburban shopping mall. I often have this image in my mind when I see hoards of people standing in line for bargains on boxing day.

I have a similar experience when I commute to work, and I see thousands of shiny metal cars driven by Zombies, talking on cell phones, drinking their coffee, always looking forward. I assume that if I avoid eye contact with them they won't realize that I am not one of them and hope that they won't come after me. I often listen to audio books in my car to stimulate my higher brain functions and remind myself that I am still alive myself.

Now please excuse me while I fight through the Zombie hoard on my way to work this morning. If I don't make it back, yet somehow you see me later on with a vacant stare, wandering aimlessly around a Best Buy, please proceed with caution!

GROOVY FUTURISTIC LIVING ROOMS

Taken from a book published in 1979 called "Future Cities: Homes and Living into the 21st Century" the above picture shows a fairly accurate portrayal of what many of us have currently at home now , including access to "electronic newspapers", "electronic mail" and very large television screens on the wall. Also, this guy's living quarters looks like it is all of 200 square feet, which is a pretty accurate portrait of what you can buy in Vancouver for $500,000.

Even the solar panels outside reflect where things are heading, at least if we are smart anyways. With the exception of the drink serving robot, everything in this picture seems pretty spot on. Of course I am OK with the absence of robot servants, as I have watched enough sci-fi to know that servile androids always turn on their masters, though I suppose the most harm this one could probably do is pour hot coffee on your lap. There you have it, the groovy future I dreamt about as a kid is finally here, sans the flying cars and jet packs.

Personally, I don't think these kind of books would be possible now, as the world seems to be changing at such an accelerated pace that our imaginations are likely limited to trying to envision what the next few years will look like, let alone decades from now. Also, my gut tells me that our visions of the future are a little less utopian now, as we are more focused on how we will live with dwindling resources and increasing geopolitical pressures in the future.

Well, that's enough future contemplation for now. Please excuse me while I go and enjoy my electronic newspaper and sip martinis in my hermetically sealed relaxation chamber with my faithful pal ROBO 3000, who assures me he holds no contempt or murderous rage towards his human master.

ODE TO FLIPPING THE BIRD

In honour of Dean Wormer's bold confession about flipping the bird to that evil little monkey that currently still holds office in the White House, I wanted to salute this visceral and unambiguous gesture.

The symbolic expletive has a proud history and provides an alternate avenue for self expression when mere words fail to express the utter disdain or rage one holds on any given moment. Even the most articulate and civilized person can find cathartic release through this primal form of communication.

Although the specific gesture of choice varies around the world, utilizing a non verbal variant of "gee I am really irritated" seems to exist as a cross cultural expression of our humanity. In North America the raised middle finger is generally the gesture of choice, guaranteed to get you an equally combative response when yielded effectively.

Of course one can't help but note the phallic nature of this gesture and you have to wonder if its origins lie in the expressions of some pre-verbal cave dweller expressing his opinion towards some other Neanderthal who ran over his foot during a mastodon hunt.

Wikipedia offers some great variations on what this one fingered salute is called in different regions (if anyone knows any other variations I would love to hear about it);

"flipping the birdie"
"the highway salute",
"The New York Hello"
"concert C"
"Showing Off Your Monkey"
"The Canadian Turn Signal"
"flipping someone off"

In terms of popular culture, I would have to say that Johnny Cash takes the prize for effectively utilizing a singular bird flipping incident over the span of a few decades. First of all, during one of his concerts at San Quentin in 1969 an iconic photo of JC emerged with his middle finger featured proportionately larger in the fore front of the photo. When JC played for the convicts his banter with the prison guards (whether rehearsed or genuine) made the crowd go wild, and his middle finger raised upwards only added to the bravado of his performance.

Years later in the 90's the same photo was used in a full paged ad to "thank" the Nashville country music establishment for utterly ignoring the great American Recordings series he did with Rick Rubin because it wasn't "country" enough (I guess they didn't like the Soundgarden cover). The best country Grammy for the "Unchained" album was certainly sweet payback;

If it's good enough for JC, then it is good enough for me. Although I have never had the chance to flip off the "leader" of the most powerful nation on earth I have been known to occasionally wield it as a decisive form of communication when cut off by some kind soul in traffic. Admittedly, it is a therapeutic gesture for someone who is usually so mild mannered and pleasant like myself! Sometimes words just don't cut it.

To those who raise their finger boldly towards the source of their disdain, I salute you! (not just with one finger either)

(If you are so inclined, here is a link for a number of famous flip offs)

UPDATE: dguzman reminded me of adding the directive to "perch and twirl" that often accompanies this finely nuanced gesture.

A BREAK FROM THE BLOGOSPHERE...

Took a little break from the blogosphere for the last week and a half or so, which in the context of our info laden and accelerated culture is probably the equivalent of a few months. I am back now, feeling recharged and ready to ruminate on life, the universe and everything. Here's what's on my radar these days;

In terms of music I am probably the last person in the Western Hemisphere to finally listen to Radiohead's utterly sublime In Rainbows. Yes, it was worth all the hype from a few months a go. This is music for the new century, and for the first time in a while the paranoia meter has been turned down a notch and Thom Yorke and company have crafted a more subtle, and slightly warmer affair than their last few post-millennial offerings. Please carve some time to listen to the album in its entirety, it will change your life. Here's a great clip to hook you in;



In terms of TV I have been watching the series jPod on CBC . Although it is utterly absurd, unbelievable and self consciously quirky at times, I appreciate Douglas Coupland's characterizations of life in the post-industrial West, where everyone is scheming and plotting to make connections in an era defined by rapid and unparalleled change. Also, it's funny as hell and the dysfunctional yearnings of a bunch of video game programmers makes for something a little more refreshing, presenting a very contemporary archetype to play with. Here's clip from YouTube (You can watch full episodes on the CBC site as well).



In terms of life, lots of big decisions on the table right now about how to live sanely in an inflated housing market and balance the need to carve out sacred space for family while keeping things afloat at the same time. I am not planning to drop off the grid or anything like that, though I do want to slow down the hamster wheel of modern life a bit and make room for the things that are most important in my life. Basically, it's one part angst coupled with a scoop of hopefulness right now about the possibility of some big changes. More to come on this for sure....

BUBBLE LESSONS

"Yeah, there’s a bubble but life’s pretty comfortable inside the bubble"


... so says George Bush to Fox News’s Brett Baier, describing how he tells people what life is like as president.

This must be a comforting metaphor for the President. Indeed, life inside the bubble sure is swell, where one is protected against the consequences of the narrow minded ideological zealotry that has reeked havoc during this fledgling century.

The bubble is also a great shield against logic, reason, and things some of us refer to as "facts". Such facts include the reality that Bush might very well become the most unpopular two term president in US history. Thankfully these type of facts can just bounce off the bubble and enable him to believe everything is just fine thank you very much.

OK, before I get too ranty, here are some of my favorite non- warmongering bubble boys who perhaps President Bush could learn a thing or two from;

MIKE MUNROE FROM THE TV SERIES NORTHERN EXPOSURE: Referred to as the "bubble man" by the residents of Cicely Alaska, this lawyer suffered from what he believed was multi chemical sensitivity. His chronic fear of toxins and environmental pollutants inspired him to move to the pristine Alaskan wilderness where he could live inside of an air sealed, über hygienic home. With the help of Maggie O'Connell he overcame his germ phobia and ventured outside, eventually joining Greenpeace in Russia to protest toxic waste dumping. Mike realized he could do more by venturing out into the world and facing his fears head on.


JIMMY LIVINGSTON FROM THE MOVIE "BUBBLE BOY"; Jimmy is a young man who was born without an immune system and has lived his life within a plastic bubble. When he finds out that the woman he loves is about to be married at Niagara Falls, he builds a portable bubble suit and ventures into the outside world in order to win her affections. Here you have a classic "carpe diem" theme about overcoming obstacles and taking risks despite the possibility of your bubble being burst.


MOVIE "THE BOY IN THE PLASTIC BUBBLE" - Even this classic 1976 made for TV movie has something to teach us. In this film the main character is born with an improperly functioning immune system and as a result he lives most of his life in a sealed off room. In the end he takes off his space suit and ventures off into the crisp outdoors on horseback. We never know in the end if it kills him, the point being that he would rather live well even if it means shortening his life.


MR BUBBLE - BELOVED BUBBLE BATH MASCOT: Promoting good hygiene and fun times for a few generations of kids, Mr. Bubble is an icon. What does he have to teach us, not much really, but I felt compelled to include him. Perhaps Bush can soak in some hot suds during his post-presidency and engage in a symbolic cleansing. I wonder how long would it take to scrub away years of really bad karma? I bet his skin would be really raw afterwards.

There you have it, a few life lessons from some bubble boys. Of course when it comes to bubbles it is always important to remember;

THE 100,000,000 BLOG UNIVERSE

Recently Sarah Boxer of the New York Times has edited a blog anthology titled "Ultimate Blogs; Masterworks From the Wild Web", where she offers a snapshot of the sublime, the absurd and everything else in between that the blogosphere has to offer. In the recent edition of the New York Times Review of Books she notes;

While I began to contemplate my own minuscule participation in all of this I stumbled upon the latest issue of Paste Magazine , where Charles McNair reviews Boxer's anthology (actually he spends most of his time ruminating on his own ambivalence towards blogging). He closes his review with the following fodder for further contemplation;

"Aldous Huxley wrote in Brave New World of a drug called soma that made society self-satisfied, internalized, indifferent to all cares. I think a case may be made that soma isn't Prozac or some other mood pharmaceutical, but modern technology - TV, iPods, the web all of it ... a symptom of some ailment that separates our 21st century souls instead of connecting them?"

Another way of framing McNair's view of blogging is as follows;

He actually makes a reasonable point on some levels about the role of technology to potentially numb the masses. Having said that, I have read lots of really engaged blog postings now that the U.S. election is gearing up and don't necessarily believe that the vast majority of bloggers are "indifferent to all cares".

If anything, there is some refreshing, playful and dynamic discourse taking place in the blogosphere, the type that is sadly missing from the mainstream media. Perhaps their is a reason why many people are turning off their TVs? And yes, there is some wonderfully inane blogging as well!

As for me, blogging has simply been a vehicle to explore my muse, to develop my writing and expand upon the passing thoughts that cross my mental landscape from time to time. It is actually quite therapeutic on some levels, a logical extension of the traditional journaling I have done from time to time in the past.

One of the pleasing bi-products of this is that I have come across a few fellow bloggers recently who appear to be anything other than "switched off", folks who have inspired me with their words and ideas and have left their mark on me, and have perhaps broadened my perspective a little bit.

It is a dynamic and rapidly changing world, and at times writing or blogging helps me get a small handle on it. There are times at night when accompanied by some good music, I write my ideas and scour for some inspiring words from others who are also trying to make sense of it all. A brave new world indeed.

THE WORLD OF JPOD

A few thoughts on the book, and upcoming television series of Douglas Coupland's "JPod"

Douglas Coupland has had a love affair with Vancouver throughout much of his writing. As conceived in many of his stories, the fact that Vancouver is a young city (almost entirely a product of the 20th century) is a cause for celebration. It is a "city of glass" emerging from it's adolescence and coming of age in the early 21st century, being defined and shaped before our eyes.

In the case of JPod it is populated by an assortment individuals who themselves are shaped by this reality. They are caricatures that mirror this accelerated and globalized world; video game programmers, smugglers of Chinese goods, corporate marketing executives and suburban "empty nesters" all seeking fulfillment in the context of a world where the rules are being redefined on a daily basis.In usual Couplandesque fashion there is a super-sized portion of pop culture references and enough irony to keep you going for a while. There is also implicitly a keenly observed understanding of how our early 21st century global economy is radically reshaping how people's personal and work lives are formed. No one actually "makes" something in the traditional sense, rather we see time spent with the mostly intangible; lines of code entered on a computer, pyramid schemes, imported goods and marijuana grow-ops hidden away in suburban basements.

For better or worse, it reflects a very contemporary reality, and I am curious to see if the spirit of this is captured by the show in the same way it was in the novel. Hopefully it will be a fine and humorous little slice of this manic and strange time we live in. From my vantage point the book was about renegotiating and understanding our humanity in a completely unparalleled new context defined by rapid social change. Needless to say, the journey will have strange outcomes.

The TV show begins airing in Canada on Tuesday, January 8th on the CBC, and I am looking forward to seeing my wonderful little Pacific Northwest glass city finally featured as itself for a change (rather than Vancouver disguised as some other place as it is with over 90% of all film or TV shows that are filmed here). Besides, with the writer's strike in full swing in the U.S. this will be a welcome respite from the glut of reality shows dominating the airwaves, and that's a version of "reality" I can live without.

DREAMING IN TECHNICOLOUR

Yesterday Norval Morrisseau passed away, leaving behind some of the most colourful and spiritual art of the mid to late 20th century. Admittedly I didn't know much about him and didn't follow the details of his life too closely, however, some of his vibrant paintings are familiar to me and have left an permanent mark on my imagination. To me his paintings are a physical manifestations of the world of dreams, where our bodies, minds and souls are inseparable from the rest of the universe.

What struck me most when learning more about Morrisseau was that he professed quite matter of factly that he has often dreamed in technicolour. Looking at his painting it is hard not to believe this . Like a Shaman gifted with true sight, he saw magnificent colour in his dreams that revealed new possibilities. All of this despite having endured the degradation of the Catholic residential school system as a young boy, and battling other demons throughout this life.

To me this is a wonderful metaphor for the type of vision we need more of in this century; the ability to see endless shades of vibrant colour and bold new textures despite of, and perhaps in defiance of the pain and suffering that accompanies this life. Too many of us retreat into the safety of a black and white landscape as the world around us becomes increasing more confusing and troubling.

To be gifted with technicolour dreams in this context is a true blessing. This gift may not be bestowed upon all of us, though sometimes when we squint and look closely at the beauty around us wild colours will momentarily drip onto our own canvass.

Morrisseau didn't have to squint though, the colours were an inseparable part of his spirit and imagination. For those of us cursed to dwell in a black and white world he fulfilled his destiny as the wild shaman, showing us bold new landscapes, bright possibilities and the importance of wild and fantastic dreams. This was his gift, offering us a glimpse of his own colourful universe.

FORGING A BOLD NEW LANGUAGE

SOME THOUGHTS ON TODD HAYNES'S UPCOMING NEW FILM ABOUT DYLAN

In the New York Times Magazine Robert Sullivan recently explored the illusive nature of Dylan's identity and sees Todd Haynes's new film I'm Not There as capturing "what Dylan is all about...which is changing, transforming, killing off one Dylan and moving to the next, shedding his artistic skin to stay alive." In this context a non-linear, multiple actor portrayal makes perfect "sense", if such a word can be used.

Having recently read Dylan's own Chronicles Vol.1, it is evident that Dylan himself is an illusive character who felt little connection to his own history, and was constantly finding his muse through a diverse range of sources. Once certain expectations of him were established (i.e folk music purist, protest singer) he would reject such conventions and find fertile new ground, seek out a new muse for his often hard to pin down artistic vision.

His shifting persona is captured brilliantly (and satirically) in this description from the Buffalo News in 2001, that Dylan later appropriated and had played at the beginning of his own concerts;

Ladies & Gentlemen please welcome the poet laureate of rock 'n' roll. The voice of promise for the sixties counterculture. The guy who forced folk into bed with rock, who donned makeup in the seventies and disappeared into a haze of substance abuse, who emerged to find Jay-sus, who was written off as a has-been in the late eighties - and who suddenly shifted gears, releasing some of the strongest music of his career beginning in the late nineties"

(Read the excellent "Like A Rolling Stone" by Greil Marcus for this and a fantastic contextual analysis of Dylan's music)

When you read his own reflections on his work you get a sense that he was very consciously charting new territory and felt that he was creating a bold new language. Although he was adept at melding an infinite number of influences into his art, it always seemed to take on a dynamic new form through his own unique and ever changing voice. There is a lengthy passage in his book where Dylan describes in great detail his attempts to develop new vocal techniques that would literally alter his voice and make his songs come alive again in a new way.

In many ways language is rarely static and evolves considerably over time. In this context when you think of Dylan as creating a new language, it is feasible that Todd Haynes would capture his constant evolution by using bold snapshots and impressionistic character studies, rather than crafting a traditional linear biopic to tell his story.

Needless to say I am really jazzed about seeing this film, and be warned, I will probably write about it incessantly afterwards. Admittedly I am a late convert to Dylan and in the last few years I have grown to be deeply inspired by his pioneering spirit. More to come on this without a doubt!

If you want to share more of my giddy excitement, check out this clip from YouTube- a scene with Cate Blanchett playing a mid-sixties era Dylan meeting the poet Allen Ginsberg for the first time.

"GO TERRY GO" - A Sign Post To Follow

I was driving my kids home from school the other day and I saw a young girl on the street walking with her mother, holding hands, skipping and carrying a home made sign that in large crayon block letters said "Go Terry Go". It was evident that this young girl, like thousands of other school children that day, had learned about the legacy of Terry Fox.

My six year old son had also finished the Terry Fox Run that day as well and he proudly announced what he had learned , that Terry Fox was "a man with a robot leg who helped lots of people" and that "he died a long time a go". He burned bright in my son's imagination as a new hero to discover, someone who did something so amazing as to warrant not only a class room discussion and video, but a school wide run done in his name.

I momentarily flash back to my own childhood. I remembered that my older sister and her friends flocked with 100's of other folks to go see Terry Fox run by our community during his Marathon of Hope. People screamed and cried when they saw him, as if he was a pop star or a famous actor. But no, he was something better.

Terry Fox permeated my young consciousness as well, though I wasn't old enough to appreciate what he was trying to accomplish at the time. I remember playing with a friend, and upon finding a one legged action figure in my collection, we made him run circles around the front lawn, complete with an improvised theme song that we made to accompany his journey.

So flash forward 27 years and here I am with my own children on a brilliant Fall day, the windows open in the car so I can breath in deeply the crisp and cool air. Just like the low hanging Autumn sun on the horizon, the multi-coloured words "Go Terry Go" written by a child burn brightly in my mind as I drive past, like a sign post that holds so many wonderful associations and points to something that is inherently good and worthy of admiration.

It reminds me that as humans, despite our stupidity, brokenness, and self-centeredness we can shine brightly as well, especially when we let go of our own pain, and run directly into the blazing horizon, blinded but filled with hope.

Thank you Terry!

DOUGLAS COUPLAND'S "50 BOOKS I HAVE READ MORE THAN ONCE"

I have always loved the physical sensation of leafing through a new book. The smell, the crackling of new binding, the texture of the over leaf are all an essential experience before I even begin to read. For me there is a physical relationship with books that is inextricably linked to their enjoyment.

No one knows this better than Douglas Coupland, whose background as a visual artist has made many of his own novels have their own unique design elements that are not superfluous in any way to the written content. With his latest installation "50 Books I have Read More Than Once" Coupland has taken his enjoyment of books and transformed them into a concrete entity that explores the physical manifestation of his love of good books.

The covers of these beloved books have been pasted to the end of wooden blocks, all of varying length and size. There is also a direct correlation between the books that impacted him the most, and the size of the block they are attached to. The completed pieces placed together form a larger structure that provides a physical form to his own reading history and how his imagination has been shaped.

According to Coupland, the piece provides "a methodology that would allow viewers to visualize the structure of their own bibliographic histories - no two of which are ever identical". He has also commented that asking which books one has read repeatedly is often a more honest indicator than the "desert island" question of essential books, which usually just becomes a method for establishing one's intellectual credibility.

Douglas Coupland's installation is on display at the Simon Fraser University Gallery until October 20, 2007.

ONE OF MY PICKS

One of the books that would place a high ranking in my sculpture would be "The Dictionary of Imaginary Places", a collection edited by Alberto Manguel & Gianna Guadalupi, originally published in 1980. My first edition hardcover commands a place of prominence in my library and has a strong physical presence; it is large, thick, and weighs a fair bit. Its not a book you lug around, and bringing it out is an event that requires the appropriate setting for perusal, as well as a certain degree of reverence when doing so.

It is full of fantastic maps, drawings and factual descriptions of various imaginary places as taken from many famous pieces of literature. It is wonderful because you can just flip through it and read a few entries as desired, or simply explore many of the maps or drawings of various imaginary kingdoms, countries or buildings. The map of the land of Oz is particularly delightful and well researched.

The smell, shape and texture of this book has become an old friend. I couldn't conceive of reading another edition of this book, as it just wouldn't be the same. Even when it sits idly on my shelf it is a physical reminder of the many other books that have shaped my imagination, a key that can open doors to many magical places.

I would mount it on a massive block and put it in a place of high prominence on my equivalent sculpture, alongside many other books, filled with poems, art, wild stories, polemics, biographies, all forming a rich and textured landscape of my always evolving and expanding imagination. It would form a map in its own right, never static and always growing.