de-generation

under the bridge downtown

2010-04-27T00:36:00.000-07:00

spring tents.

Early Normal Drop-out

2010-03-01T19:07:00.000-08:00

Do you remember a time when life was simple? People like to say being a kid is simple, but I think that's bs. Maybe it gets simple in old age, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

Kids have to deal with school, and in my case, public school in a small town... and my parents are, and were bohemians, so I just didn't "get" certain things.

I remember going to school in my pajamas in Kindergarten. I didn't feel like getting dressed, so I wore my nightie to school. It made perfect sense to me. It looked like a dress, except it had a big silkscreened moon on it. Once I got to school I quickly found out that was too "out there" for the rest of the kids. I remember this being my first indication that I didn't think like most kids... and neither did my parents think like most other parents.

Then there were the words the other kids used, like "faggot", and sentences like "I ain't seen...". I found this incredibly facinating. They used combinations of words in ways that sounded poetic, yet obviously crass. I remember studying these combinations so I could try them out... and I chose my mum to start with.

That was the best mistake I ever made. I used the "I ain't seen" combination, or something to that effect. I have to explain that my mum is one of the most easy going people I know... except for certain things like speech, which I found out directly after laying the "I ain't seen" bomb. She lost it like most parents do when kids swear (which I was aloud to do as long as I wasn't swearing at someone). In the quietest yell ever she hissed, "You will NEVER speak like that again, do you understand?"

So much for integration.

I quickly learnt not to fight the differences. They were from the other side of town, and I was from Camp road... where the hippie kids lived.

I was born to be an early normal drop-out.

Julia

2010-03-01T19:01:00.000-08:00

Has incredible fashion sense. This is what she wanted to wear for our walk in the woods.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-07-10T15:55:00.000-07:00

Just a visual image.

A drunk guy with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, in running shoes and shorts, was stretching out his quads like a runner against the wall of the Bourbon.... Ummm, warming up for the drunk guy Olympics?

I'd pay to know what bizarre idea of health runs through that smart guy's head.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-07-08T09:14:00.000-07:00

They're shooting a movie down here today. I'm going to guess it's a new Dawn of the Dead part 666. Or at least what it should be.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-07-07T13:34:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted for a couple days. There's just nothing funny about the downtown east side when it rains. It reminds me of that monologue in Taxi Driver. I can't repeat it. It's too much.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-07-03T13:29:00.000-07:00

If I was to say the police were crackin' down on Hastings, does anyone else visualize them (the police) smoking crack on Hastings? Or is it just me?... ps. they really are though, shaking people down I mean.

nuclear

2009-07-02T16:49:00.000-07:00

As I think I've mentioned with Iboga, you deal with dreams that show you extremes. The basic underlying theme with Iboga is that it tries to teach by showing. With this dream I can only imagine that it was trying to show me what it would look like if I put my energy and power into negative things. Its not literal though. It's not like it was predicting that I would be hanging out with the most powerful men in the Russian and eastern European Mafia's. Obviously.

The dream was incredibly intense and frightening. I was a liason between the two Mafia's who were both in the process of heavily arming themselves with Nuclear weapons. Now, if you can visualize this, they wore their Nuclear weapons on their bodies like light blue glowing armor. They looked like futuristic human transformers who were liable to go nuclear on the world at any moment just to prove that they held the ultimate power.

They weren't concerned or threatened by any governments. They were in the most extreme pissing contest. Both the leader of the Russian Mafia and the Mafia from some eastern European country that I can't remember, were only concerned with beating each other. Who had more nuclear power. Who could blow more of the world up. Who was crazier and wasn't afraid to do it. That's where I came in. I was there to entertain the head of the Russian Mafia (take him to parties, find him drugs and women etc.) while also being a messenger between the two Mafia's.

At one point in the negotiations, where they were positioning themselves to have one Mafia gain complete control over the other and it's armaments, things got really tense and they almost attacked the other... aka. go complete nuclear. I was given flashes of life from around the world that was about to be exterminated including ourselves. Not to mention that with cold, mean men, my charm doesn't go very far. I could see the contempt in their eyes when they saw fear or weakness in me. I quickly became a hardened negotiator and criminal. You see, nothing is done without a "favor" in this world, and they obviously had a lot of use for an unassuming young woman.

Somewhere during the negotiations I was suddenly on an airplane, transporting large quantities of drugs and nuclear jewelry. I had become a Mule. I had to wear the jewelry all over my body which I was incredibly frightened of at first, but then became accustomed to. I carried the drugs in my bags, and it was supposedly arranged so that I wouldn't be hassled in customs. I was terrified that it hadn't been arranged properly. Not only was I a walking nuclear bomb that could blow up half the European continent, but I had to be worried about being man-handled by customs in this state of being a major liability.

I remember going through customs in slow motion, and making it through as planned. What I wasn't expecting was the feeling of empowerment this gave me. I remember feeling elated in the dream because I had gotten away with it. On one level it was because I knew I then had leverage with the Mafia, but then on another level, it was because my brain was turning into one of a criminal.

Then the dream ended.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-07-02T14:46:00.000-07:00

The party never ends down here. Ever. Only in the downtown east side do people wear Mardi Gras beads, 'cause they feel like celebrating, mid-day, while sitting on the pavement shirtless, with only the plethora of beads around their neck. I don't know this particular bearded man's name, but I sure wish I did. I now have a NEW hero.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-07-02T08:47:00.000-07:00

"Hunt for an Heiress."

"Luchia Leise has spent years in poverty on Vancouver streets and in welfare hotels. Now she may be lone heir to a family fortune held in a German bank. But where is she?"

This is AMAZING! I love that my local ____ (fill in the blank) is richer than me. Now we just have to bet on how long it lasts (think about it, every jackass who reads the paper down here now knows she's a mark. Her money is fucked before she even has it. Thanks Vancouver Sun).

http://www.vancouversun.com/Hunt+heiress+gone+missing+from+Vancouver+streets/1750323/story.html

ian wiatt

2009-06-30T17:00:00.001-07:00

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-06-29T17:19:00.000-07:00

Man falls / jumps / gets thrown from the balcony of a low income housing unit onto a power box and explode into a burst of flames... dead. Gives a new meaning to going out in a burst of flames.

just thinking

2009-06-28T11:03:00.000-07:00

If I was in a band I would make music to have sex to. Then I would be responsible for a pile of accidental babies. Passive aggressive GOD.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-06-28T09:16:00.000-07:00

"Hows it going," I ask as a nod to a homeless guy I recognize.

He answers with deadpan seriousness, "Well, I'm still breathing, I'm still walking, and I can still wipe my ass, so it's a good day. And it will continue to be a good day until I can't do one of those three things."

Shit! I just need to change my expectations. He's my hero.

netherlands

2009-06-26T22:29:00.001-07:00

belgium

2009-06-26T22:27:00.001-07:00

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-06-26T13:39:00.001-07:00

I love my neighborhood. Between the guy trimming his beard with oversized scissors in the reflection of a storefront window, to the guy riding his bike (loaded with bags) without a tire on the back rim, my neighborhood rocks. Ingenuity is the first ingredient to the downtown east side.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-06-25T13:39:00.000-07:00

I walked past Pigeon Park today and the Listerine drunks were rockin' out on a mini ghetto to the Guns 'n Roses song "Paradise City". So perfect.

rats

2009-06-25T08:50:00.000-07:00

A big part to the Iboga dreams was to give me a sense of understanding. Some of the understanding was to make me feel good or ok about the world or my life, but some was to give me a sense of responsibility or compassion or warning. These lessons aren't direct knowledge, it's more of an organic type of information transfer. Like you live it and then are left to figure it out.

So when I was in what I'll call the mala mundo (bad world) I was living with the most heinous junky-crack-addicted prostitutes. It was like mad max meets the dockyards. Everyone was living in these elevated tent cities above the dockyards and log booms. The water was like the ditch water of Hastings and got into everything and everywhere. Blood, semen, urine, shit, garbage and industrial waste mixing just below the surface of the log booms and splashing up threatening to infest me with whatever disease it wanted.

The elevated tents people "lived in" went on into the distance as far as the eye could see. They hung in the skyline like twisted trees of decay and disease. To get up into them was to lifted out of living with the rats. The rats were the drug addicted prostitutes and johns that had lost all sense of self and were wondering around half naked fucking each other without condoms, spreading disease, and using the money made to buy crack and heroin until their bodies collapsed. Once they collapsed from exhausting, malnutrition and disease they would fall through the cracks of the log booms and drown in the filthy water.

Natural selection at it's most grave. To make it up into the tents you had to be sellable. Workable. Or you had to have money to buy drugs and prostitutes. The tents were run by an invisible power, but a power that was obeyed completely. Down at the bottom were the cast offs, and up above were the commodities. The commodities sold their bodies continuously to buy crack rock after crack rock and small amounts of heroin over and over. If they had children they sold their children for sex and used the money for the same things. There was an understanding that it was better in the tent city than down below, but in all actuality it was just the same. The women in the tents were covered in blood, semen, urine and disease. It's not like they could have a shower after fucking thousands of men. Total depravity.

It was all this endless, mindless cycle of fucking and drugging, fucking and drugging that I watched. The John's and the invisible power were in the shadows, unseen, but not disguised. They left their marks in full view on the bodies of the prostitutes. And once the prostitutes became too sick from disease and drugs to work properly, she lost her tent and would be at the mercy of other prostitutes to work in their tent or she would be forced down below, with the rats, to her death.

This world, a mala mundo, was not a world you left once you became a part of. People got lost here and never made it back. I got out, but I was just a voyeur, not a participant.

do easy

2009-06-23T09:59:00.001-07:00

yes. working on it.

things I like to look at

2009-06-23T01:22:00.001-07:00

Photos from art galleries.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-06-23T01:05:00.000-07:00

Cheryl. I went to Junior High with her. I remember her being so sweet, shy and I always suspected abused. She disappeared from school one day and I never saw her again... until recently. On Hastings. She's a toothless drug addicted prostitute with AIDS and Hep C. But she's still the sweet girl I remember from Junior High. Just with a shorter life.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-06-22T21:23:00.000-07:00

The other day I woke up to the roar of an endless procession of motorcycle enthusiasts, obviously out for some big Sunday group ride. I looked out my window onto Hastings street to see one shiny new bike after another cruise towards downtown. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a guy on a janky mountain bike racing down Hastings in the opposite direction holding a shopping cart full of his goods. He held himself high as he rode, no hands (except the one on the cart), past all the motorcyclists. So stylish.

drought

2009-06-22T16:09:00.000-07:00

One of the Iboga dreams was an apocalyptic type scenario. The city was shut down. Total chaos and degradation. Think New Orleans after the hurricane. Think hot and dry. No water, no food. People had somehow foraged out a sketchy type of existence within their very narrow realms. I found myself there after leaving the dockyards where the junkie, crack-addicted prostitutes were selling themselves and their children for sex. I had to trek through dry dusty fields that used to hold crops, but were now just collecting garbage and housing the cities refugees. The roadways were deserted and people travelled through culverts and ditches to get to and from the city. This is where people drank, ate and bathed. It was the saddest, slimiest waterway, but it was what was available.

So I left all the junkie prostitutes who had infested the dockyards like slithering rats to find the city. After I somehow arrived I found an old department store that was almost semi-functional as a housing complex. It was still incredibly dangerous, but I befriended a tough old city worker who showed me the ropes. I was there to organize. Get people functional again, but we lacked water. So that was our first agenda. Food was so ridiculously scarce that people just became used to not eating. Calories came from this kind of mush with salted fish we ate once a day. I have no idea what it was, but it was disgusting. I also don't know where it came from. I seem to remember some kind underground network, so they must've arranged a food program for the people working together to get the city somewhat functional again.

Water. How do you get clean water when you are in the bottom of a valley that has been industrialized from the base of the mountains all the way to the ocean? That's what we were up against. People were tired and angry so getting help to build rain cisterns was difficult. There were arguments that we should be trying to get the city water running again, but we didn't have the electricity or the expertise to do something like this. We were running on instinct alone. This was a haphazard revolution born out of necessity, not choice. Very different.

flashbacks

2009-06-22T12:36:00.000-07:00

In order to make some sense out of this Iboga trip I've decided to write out the different dreams / memories from the trip. I have to explain that in the trip they felt like they were in real time. So each memory or dream would've been anywhere from a day to a week in a lifetime. It was like getting transported to different lives which were all relevant and important. There were a few occasions where I understood I had been away from another dream and therefore thought I understood linear time. But nothing is linear with Iboga. You only think it is. When I would wake up in the Netherlands in this reality I would think that I had missed great deals of time and be worried that I missed my flight home. When in true time I had just been in the trip for a day in total. Basically time, space and reality melt into the subconscious but the conscious is present to transcribe the experience. Very fucking cool. Very fucking confusing.

in the HASTINGS SHUFFLE

2009-06-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

"Finally got the courage to leave 8 years of abuse. I'm on day 5 out here. Please help." She had a cane and a fucked up face... for a 30 year old. I gave her $5.

ok

2007-10-04T00:43:00.000-07:00

So I've been on a sebatical. Time to start this boring, self absorbed chitter-chatter up again. My inner dialogue is on overdrive. I also just wanted an excuse to post this video. It's pretty much the most amazing ever. I actually thought I died and was reborn in a world where people got "it". So here. I'm sharing (I made it through kindergarten).

it's a sing along. it's an anthem. from birth.

fountain of youth

2007-10-04T00:15:00.000-07:00

Remember when skateboarding and snowboarding was for the bad boys? I fell in love with one. He turned out good, but that was way later on in life.

In grade 8 a boy with long, straight red hair and tight black jeans drew the Metallica logo on my binder in huge black letters. It was pretty much the coolest. I still think tight jeans on boys is hot... (apparently). Maybe they'll grow their hair long again too (that will just be trouble).

My friend Eli and I used to jam in my mum's basement (1 base and 1 set of drums... so bad it was good). We played fugazi over and over. Then one day he kissed me and we didn't jam anymore. It was the summer after grade 7.

LSD

2007-07-21T14:50:00.000-07:00

The first 3 are short and awesome, and the last one is gonna get you edumacated.

things change

2007-07-15T09:55:00.000-07:00

Apparently I've been short of words lately. I haven't felt much like posting or writing. I'm not sure if this has to do with life happening, or with the lack of interest in reading my own internal dialogue on a website. Regardless of the reason, I've decided to change the format to something with a little more substance... and consistency. So apparently I have some work to do (I feel the fire on my ass again). Peacelovenhappiness.

the stars align

2007-07-09T04:24:00.000-07:00

"Now that you're here, you realize how much you wanted this stability. After all, you can be as adventurous and daring as you want -- as long as you know there's a strong and steady base for you back at home."
- yesterdays horoscope

lost in translation

2007-07-08T18:11:00.000-07:00

Or transition. Or both. I'm thinking in a more existential kind of way, but it does apply literally to my current life.

I suddenly realized today that I'm not a kid anymore. I obviously knew it prior to this realization, but it really hadn't sunk in until today. I'm going to get old, get wrinkles, go saggy... my vanity! Maybe I'll invest in some plastic surgery. Get a facelift. Then I'll just lie about my age so I can still get away with my degenerate behavior.

Or... maybe I'll just finally grow up. In the good way.

So here's to me practicing my follow through (glug glug).

Ps. If I've flaked out on any of you in the past... I'm... sorry.

demetal your kids

2007-07-05T16:52:00.002-07:00

For real. Also, how the hell did Tipper ever get to be an authority on anything? If you've got the answer I'll send you a beautiful cannibal corpse tape circa 1989.

demetal kids - part 2

2007-07-05T16:52:00.001-07:00

hitler's architect

2007-07-04T16:58:00.000-07:00

Berthold Konrad Hermann Albert Speer, commonly known as Albert Speer (March 19, 1905 – September 1, 1981), was an architect, author and high-ranking Nazi German government official, sometimes called "the first architect of the Third Reich". His two bestselling autobiographical works, detailing his often close personal relationship with German dictator Adolf Hitler, have allowed readers and historians an unequalled personal view inside the workings of the Third Reich. Speer was Hitler's chief architect before becoming his Minister for Armaments during the war. He reformed Germany's war production to the extent that it continued to increase for over a year despite ever more intensive Allied bombing. After the war, he was tried at Nuremberg and was sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment for his role in the Third Reich. As "the Nazi who said sorry", he was the only senior Nazi figure to admit guilt and express remorse. Following his release in 1966, he became an author, writing the two aforementioned autobiographical works, and a third about the Third Reich. He died of natural causes in 1981, in London.
- wikipedia

soko - i'll kill her

2007-07-02T16:30:00.000-07:00

amazing. laughing out loud.

east side

2007-07-02T11:23:00.000-07:00

Martin and I had the most sureal and amazing non-conversation with this man here, in a tiny drinking establishment in east berlin. There were tears and champagne at 3am (he did the crying, something maybe about the communist shroud and his father being Hilters architect... we can only guess because he didn't speak a word of english). The video is comming soon...
I live for this.

boomBoomBOOMberlin

2007-06-27T15:22:00.000-07:00

I'm going for a mental health reasons. Mental health as in notintendingtosleepandpartyallnighteverynightuntilIcantpartyanymore Thank god.

seriously

2007-06-25T16:23:00.000-07:00

I'm actually laughing out loud right now. Giggling like a child. So bad. After this I'm done.
It goes like this

Matt:

I don't think lil likes me any more chato? Do I really look like a fucking loser? cause i'm still getting lots of tail and when you're as shallow as me that's really all that matters in life. The gratification one gets from being inside a vagina........ahhhhhhhhh. Talk to me lil, don't hate appreciate

Me:

I'll rephrase. Matt is a loser. Lots of losers still get to fuck. Nothing new, until they get old, and then they're just old fat drunken losers that can't remember if they paid a man or a woman for sex the night before.
-Chato- I'm done now, sorry for taking up your wall space. Have fun this weekend. xox

sometimes you find things

2007-06-25T16:06:00.000-07:00

Like this photo. I see me. I see me in San Fran. I see me mashed.

L as in Lilith?

2007-06-25T15:33:00.000-07:00

"Hi Lili,
We would love to purchase 'Oregon Coast Summer '06. It is for one of
our characters homes. We could have the printing done or whatever
works best. What is the price? Let me know. The creator of the
show really likes your work."

OOOooooo. Yes, I'm mean definitly, I mean..... what?

i felt like sharing

2007-06-22T15:33:00.000-07:00

First day of summer:
- rode into Amsterdam with my laundry rigged to my bicycle
- witnessed a cycling drug deal
- smiled and winked (i've been practicing) at the dealer
- resisted going back to ask what the day's special was
- got lost in a rainstorm
- got unlost after the rainstorm
- had a beer with Lucky (yes, he's from Cumberland!)
- rode home in a thunder and lightning storm with clean laundry

facebook diaries

2007-06-22T14:33:00.001-07:00

Ok, so here's the deal. Facebook has somehow lured highschool's minus 10 personalities out of hiding. Make that minus infinity. In response to a "friend" request by one of Courtenay's infamous and unapologetic trainwrecks (who happens to owe me a substantial amount of money) I sent back an eloquent response about having a long memory and that I recomended he fuck off and die (apparently living on this floating trailer park is bringing out the... well... you can see). I rarely hold grudges and have such a lingering distaste for people, but he's a "special" case. So when I saw him on a friends facebook page I couldn't resist sending this minus whatever personality a special little message. Hmmm, Facebook is suddenly becoming more interesting to me. Come to think of it, maybe I should send him a link here?

In that case I hope you're reading this. Fuckhead.

A Clear Midnight

2007-06-21T15:34:00.000-07:00

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou
lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.
- Walt Whitman

just like the dutchies

2007-06-20T16:17:00.000-07:00

I bought a bicycle yesterday. A Dutch bicycle. I rode as far as I could with my arms stretched out beside me and my hands spred wide open. I felt the wind through my fingers and it reminded me of the delicious feeling I get whenever I swim naked.

just one

2007-06-20T16:11:00.000-07:00

because now that I'm not in art school I can

fastforward / rewind

2007-06-19T02:15:00.000-07:00

Does anyone know where the delete button is? Or at least how to stop the rewind button. I've been hitting play over and over, but I just keep getting rewind functions. Then I get loops. Where the hell in the uninterupted play button?

ass 'n titties

2007-06-18T16:41:00.000-07:00

"All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds." - Richard Brautigan

2007-06-18T16:33:00.000-07:00

I was having a conversation with a close associate one evening when the topic of special powers came up. The question was, would you rather have the ability to fly, or to breath underwater? When pondering this possibility I kept thinking about how drowning is supposed to be the most peaceful and euphoric way to die. So if I could breath underwater that would nullify the possiblity of having the most peaceful and euphoric death. I therefore chose flying as my special power of choice through logical default.

Sentimentaliy at it's finest

2007-06-17T12:08:00.000-07:00

I was having a moment. Or many.

There was a rainbow today

2007-06-16T13:12:00.000-07:00

"The Ice Man's mule is parked
Outside the bar
Where a man with missing fingers
Plays a strange guitar
And the German dwarf
Dances with the buthcer's son
And a little rain never hurt no one
And a little rain never hurt no one"

- Tom Waits

My View

2007-06-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

It's like a bloody trailer park on water...

Keep it simple stupid

2007-06-15T12:35:00.000-07:00

KISS. Like the band, but not.
KISS like I want one, but can't have.
KISS like my dad used to alway say, so here it is.

Keep it simple stupid.

It was an affectionate reminder to not over complicate primarily my writting. In my youth aka. under 15, I adored massive run-on sentences that would last forever as if I had way to much to say before I would ever consider taking a breath because kids are so fucking excited about everything all at once and then they usually forget what their original point was and the whole fucking idea is lost and everything goes to shit.

In my adult life, if that is what I could referr to this as, I prefer the consise sentence. Every idea has a pause. Every nuance gets a moment to breath. This could possibly be due to an adult developement of A.D.D. Or it could be due to a slower brain functioning due to substances ingested. Or, it may just be a poorely developed device to seem like your words are important. Regarless, WORD can KISS my ass because it's not going to change.

Where was I going with this?

Keep it simple stupid. Well aparently I've done just that. I now reside somewhere just outside Amsterdam on a houseboat in a canal. Basically in the middle of fucking nowhere. But everywhere once I get used to it. I have a resident swan that likes to visit me when I'm lounging on my patio, which is actually a dock. I have two horses to talk to behind my place when I'm feeling squirrely. Basically I went from a rockstar/asshole life of decadence and depravity to a very wholesome, cook your own meals and enjoy the day, kind of life.

Lets pause for a moment of adjustment shall we.

But thats not how I do things. I expect total adaptation immediately. Patience is a virtue I struggle with, therefore I have decided to amuse myself with solo activities such as a blog. I'm sure it will be trite and boring at times so bear with me friends, but this is for you. I love you all and think of you often.

KISS