Freud And Fraser

Watched "Blast From The Past" a couple of nights ago. Scared me more than any horror movie on the show. It's so thick in Oedipal complex that Norman Bates would shudder.

But first, a few side notes before I delve into the darkness and sick sexual journey that is "Blast From The Past".This movie is racist. The only non-white characters are a Pakistani porno shop owner, and a fat black mamma with a lot of "sass".

And on another note, why does Hollywood feel the need to make gay characters omniscient about relationships? A person I know says that gay characters know both masculine and feminine traits, but how does this make them any less knowledgeable? I could know what Geroge Bush is aiming for and what John Kerry is aiming for, but that does not make me a political afficionado. It makes me knowledgeable, yes, but far less knowledgeable than gay characters are presented. They're just as screwed up as we are when it comes to relationships, except they screw members of their own sex.

All right, here's the plot. I urge small children to leave. Adam is born into a bomb shelter, raised there until he's 35. The only female contact he has is with his mother. He is then sent into the world to get supplies for his sick, twisted family.

He has many traits of repressed homosexuality - a reluctance to sexual relations with women, clean cut, awkward manners, cute little phrases, and all the other tell tale signs. He is, by all accounts, a man child. And the shedding of the Oedipal Complex is one of the tell tales signs of entering adolesence and leaving childhood, according to Freud.

He meets up with Eve, a woman that bosses him around, guides him, and tells him what to do in the world. He is his second mother figure.

Then, an interesting juxtaposition happens. Adam sees two attractive girls - the first attractive girls he's seen besides Eve - wave to him. His dark sexual journey begins. In a clever disguising, the director then goes directly to him "noticing" the ocean for the first time. But he was on the beach; surely he must have suspected that there was an ocean there? Because the fact of the matter is that he's not noticing the ocean, he's noticing the wide world of woman. Afterwards, from the script, "Adam tosses off his roller-blades and walks trance-like" towards the ocean. He then "dives in", shouting out for joy. But the true observer can see he's not jumping for joy for being in the ocean first time, but for his sexual awakening. One almost expects Fraser to yell, "Pussy!" Or whatever they called it back in the 50s, which is where he's from.

Then, Adam delves further into his sick sexual journey. He asks Mother/Eve for help, and she directs him to a club. In this club that's very darkly lit, where everybody wears black - representing the dark side of sexuality, the unknown, the forbidden. He picks up a chick that mother/Eve frowns upon, and afterward, begins a three way "dance session". Swing was noticed for its sexualization of dance, as opposed to the staid standards of yesteryear. He begins swing dancing with the two females, a technique he learned from his mother. This whole scene is an obvious expression of the forbidden pleasurable fruits of a subtextual menage a trois. Mother/Eve watches all the while, jealous.

However, after going home with another woman, Adam's impotence shows up - he just can't get it on with that lady, and goes straight home to Mother/Eve. He apologizes when Mother/Eve gets "angry" (or at least, what he perceives to be anger) at his impotence. Afterwards, Fraser and Silverstone admit their love in a kiss. The Oedipal complex has come full circle. He is substituted his real mother for a surrogate one. But the story has not reached its infernal climax, and so I must continue, though I wish I would not have to.

After this, Adam admits his story of living in the bomb shelter. The authorities come to pick him up for the loony he is, although not in the sense that they believe. When Eve insists that he goes, he says, "...All right, Eve [mother], if you say so." Feeling betrayed, he escapes, going back to his original mother.

Basically, everything works out, and Adam and Eve agree to get married. They are left with what one broker calls "The Garden of Eden", the sick sexual universe Adam has created for himself. With his Mother/Eve/wife at his side, he is free to live in his perversity, along with his real mother, who lives within their property.

So...romantic comedy or perverted sexual journey? I urge you to make the judgement for yourself. Just remember, if you spent thirty plus years with just your parents, you'd end up pretty fucked up, too.

Eve - Why would you put a fallout shelter under a porno shop?
Ev - Waarom had u een fallout schuilplaats onder een porno winkel gezet?

Interesting Facts

I'll let you make the connections.

There's been a lot of disasters recently in October. Even old Mount St. Helens is ready to blow: http://www.cnn.com/2004/TECH/science/09/29/mount.st.helens/index.html

Four hurricanes have hit Florida.

Florida and the mess there were responsible for getting George Bush into office in 2000.

This October is an important month for the Presidential elections.

"The Lord is vengeful".

Allez a Paris, le ville d'amour!
Go to Paris, the city of love!

If Y'All Like To Get Down...

I have no way to complete that title, as magnificent as it is.

Anyway, I think I have completely figured out the difference between high school and college thus far: People get party and drunk at high school, and talk about stupid bullshit. In college, people get party and get drunk, and bullshit about ideas. For example, one guy was drinking, and waxing about freedom and its inherent pessimism. Basically, he thought the desire for freedom was pessimistic - if we were completely satisfied, we wouldn't desire freedom. But because we aren't, then we desire freedom. Again, I could be wrong, and if I am, and if Drunk Guy somehow stumbles upon this website, I want to apologize to Drunk Guy for my mistaken interpretation of his philosophical beliefs.

Anyway, went to an anime showing for the Anime Club. I wanted to win Pocky but didn't. The first half was good, despite the title "Princess Tutu" - dealing with ballerina princesses and sensitive writer boys and gnosticism and the blurring of fiction and reality. I'll leave you to your own conclusions about that one. Two shows were good, but after the break, the last half of the shows really blew it out its hole. I left before the show ended.

Dare no kuruma desu ka?
Whose car is this?

An Abridged Conversation

Here's an abridged conversation I had with my brother on MSN.
Andy says: oh now I remember I forgot you didn't have your own tv

William says: Yeah, because mine's in the basement. You using it? Or is it just being wasted? Andy says: wasted

Andy says: don't know what to do with it

Basically, I told him he should use the television anyway.

William says: What's that expression, Andy..."Better to have a gun and not need it than need a gun and not have it." Replace gun with TV, and you're set.

Andy says: true but I wouldn't compare a gun to a tv

William says: They both knock people out, right? With either emotional content or lead. But still the same thing.

Andy says: also true but a tv does not physically kill someone

William says: What if you use it as a weapon? You could do some damage. Andy says: maybe but thats not its intended purpose

William says: Maybe it was its intended original purpose. Maybe it was all just a fancy way of murdering someone, because the inventor thought that guns were so pedestrian.

Andy says: then why all the trouble for getting reception?

William says: So he could watch something while he was killing a guy.

Andy says: but the tv would probally break when you hit someone with it

William says: Yeah, but the original television had a lot of spikes in it.

William says: In the blank space.

William says: In the tv.

Andy says: to bad that the tv didn't catch on as a murder weapon

William says: Well, they got so hooked on the things that they were going to watch, that they forgot all about murdering the guy.

Andy says: yeah and I guess the spikes clashed with the decor of living rooms

William says: Well, they were inside the television. Nobody knew what was inside. That's what made it such a great murder weapon.

Andy says: are they still there?

William says: In some of the older models, but with models nowadays, with them getting smaller with the plasma screens and the whatnot, they couldn't find them in.

Andy says: damn shame

William says: Indeed.

Andy says: I can't think of anything to talk about!

William says: Nor can I. Want to talk when something interesting happens?

And then he left.

Ima, ikimasu!
Now, go!

Sorry

Sorry for the introduction to the previous blog. It was self-indulgent tripe.

42και ηγαγεν αυτον προς τον ιησουν εμβλεψας δε αυτω ο ιησους ειπεν συ ει σιμων ο υιος ιωνα συ κληθηση κηφας ο ερμηνευεται πετρος

42Andrew brought his brother to Jesus. And when Jesus saw him, he said, "Simon son of John, you will be called Cephas." This name can be translated as "Peter."

Crappy Poetry

I don't know what to write, and yet something compels me to write on this, for all of my fans - I think it's in the single digits now...anyway. It's a poem. It's pretty crappy, and self-indulgent. If you want a good web blog, try Warren Ellis's, at diepunyhumans.com. It's got some pretty good, messed up stuff going down there. Anyway. To my crappy poetry.

From A Young Man Leaving His Name

What did Peter call himself inside his conscious?
In those moments
In his head
"Don't worry, ____"
or
"C'mon, _______, get in the game!"

Simon, the fisherman
Who loved and was loved
Who felt
Who went out wherever he went
Who visited his friends
Perhaps discussed politics
(But not in front of the centurions)
Who perhaps didn't think he was cut out for anything, really
except for fishing
which was who he was?

Maybe he didn't do anything but fish
At least, we can't learn from
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
Editorial changes prohibited
God's word from talking about a Fisherman
Except to point out that he was a Fisherman
(Simon was inconsequential) until the
Moment
he saw a bearded man calling to him?

Or was it Peter?
The man who did everything?
The man who was remembered?
Who called Jesus by his true name, "Son of God, Messiah"?
The Disciple, The Apostle
Remembered after
(and by)
more powerful fellowships, even the centurions
A Rock that healed
A Rock upon which a Church was founded?
(But that depends on what name you call them by)
Who gave his life just because he would not renounce a name?

Did he use the name given to him by God?

I hope
He used Simon
To build Peter

The World's Quickest And Most Ironic Post Ever

All right, I'm going to see Napoleon Dynamite with this girl Emily and some of her friends, most of whom I haven't even met. But they were there, and they asked nicely, so whatever. Anyway, I overheard:

"So yeah, after seeing that movie, I got really hungry for some McDonalds".
I surmised it was Super Size Me. I interrupted.
"So wait...you got hungry for McDonalds after that?"
"Well, yeah, they feature it in like every shot, and it's so good, and..."
"But...that'd be wanting to put up a Confederate flag after seeing Roots!"
"Yeah, well, it's my choice, so, whatever..."
The conversation sorta died down after that.

Nihongo kattadesu.
I cannot speak Japanese.

Morality And God

Okay, here's a theory that's still in its infancy, made it up during History class, talking about Jesuits and the Natives. Probably preached by someone else, and my subconscious filtered it to say that I made it up. I get the feeling that the teacher was an atheist, and he asked, "Is there a reasonal way to back up God?".

All right, if you believe that without God there is no morality, because it's all just a load of bunch society made to protect itself, all relative to whatever society created it - no difference between cannibals in New Guinea and the Pope. Okay, but the fact remains that there is morality in the world. And the world has been shown that given the chance, it will take the easiest route to anything. A lot of people have said that man's primary status is like a caveman, just wild and stupid and doing whatever they want. So why is there morality? Because God exists.

God would probably be like this - Imagine you lived your entire life near a trainway, with all the windows and doors permanently shut. You'd get so used to the sound, you probably wouldn't even consciously register it any more. That's God.

Unique Porn

Walking past the Red Light block of stores right near Ryerson, I got an idea into my head that has previously popped up in there. As a part time job, I'd like to work at a porn store. I think just waiting for the customer to ask a question would be worth the job.

"Um...excuse me, can you make any recommendations?"
"No, I don't watch that filth."

And then, they'd walk off. That, plus the feeling of moral superiority I'd get every time a customer walked in. "Well, at least I'm not him".

And while some have likened the job to that of a drug dealer, the drug dealer's folly lies in that he tries to get people hooked on this stuff, and helps create this need..."Hey kid, wanna try some? It's good shit." Hence, his wrong doing. However, sexuality is an innate urge, which these lonely freaks can't express, and hence, must relieve through watching "Grand Theft Anal", or something like that.

(Interesting story about truth being stranger than fiction - Friends thought they were being particularly witty and clever when they came up with that one. Until they went perousing a local pornographic shop and found one in there.)

All this, plus the fact that porn-peddling couldn't get sent up to Rykers and be partnered with "Big Horny Bubba", serving five to fifteen for b and e. Unlike, say, drug-dealing.

Before we begin, let me say that I have a somewhat unique taste in music. I can listen to Undertones as easy as Charlie Mingus. If you don't know either, I've done my job. I thought this made me unique. I wanted to be unique; I loathe the top 40, and this way, I wasn't like the herd.

Evidently, there's just a smaller herd. Met another guy, Andrew. He's got a unique taste for music, too - likes to listen to Jazz. There's a feature on iTunes (which he recommended I download) which lets people listen to music other people have downloaded. I checked it out. He listens to jazz, too, and punk, and all the other bands I liked which I thought made me unique and musically nerdly knowledgeable...even Dick Dale, 60s surfer rock king!

That's the problem with trying to be uniquely cool - there's someone just as unique and cool as you.

Yo no puedo hablar español.
I cannot speak Spanish.

Staples or Ryerson

So, being a film geek (along with many others - I'm a Renaissance geek of some sort, and also, humble) I wanted to check out the Rogers near me. They were all pretty far from my university, but I picked the one nearest me. However, when I got to the street it was on, that was too far, so I went back.

Anyway, on the way back, I stopped into pick up a duotang and a pencil. Ended up buying that plus highlighters, a map, and a dictionary. I needed them all, but still, I don't like unintended purchases. Shows me what a consumer whore I am. But I came to the first step of Consumers Anonymous: admitting I have a problem. At first, I was glancing around at all the products in Staples, thinking about how nice it would be to have these at my desk. How organized my life would be, how professional, how in control. Carpe productum, instead of a day. But then I realized that that was exactly how they wanted to make me feel; instead of it being about the way I wanted to live, with all the niceties of Staples, it was about purchasing something else.

The pens section was brutal. 124.60 for a pen. Unless you're the President and you're signing a treaty, nobody needs a pen like that.

Also, another note to this story (and the reason for the title) is that I refused to shop at the Ryerson University Book Store. I wanted to shop at the monolithic corporation I knew instead of the monotholic corporation I didn't. It was also against the university - they're expensive, and everyone (including the universities) agrees that it's a problem. But who sets the cost for these books? The universities. You won't find the Canadian Press Caps and Spelling book in Chapters; and since these university students need them to pass, why not charge extravagant prices for them? And really, in terms of strictly school supplies, the only advantage the Ryerson University Book Store itself had was that it sold candy.

I won't write much else. I'm hungry.

Это - моя дорогая ручка.
This is my expensive pen.

Double Patty, Hold The Sesame Seed Bun

So here I am in Toronto, trying to keep off the Freshman 15. I'm already overweight as it is, and I want to keep it at the nice stable flab it is right now. So, I skipped both breakfast and lunch due to various circumstances at the day, but I didn't really care, because I'm trying to keep some weight off. All I had was two donuts and some water during that time. So far, so good - I wasn't gonna be a fatty, oh no.

Then, came the late supper. (Wow, this is trivial). I strolled down to Harvey's - good old home style burgers.

Harvey's calls its burger "The Original Burger", but on whose terms? Is it their original burger? Because that doesn't really lend an air of authenticity to it; I could create a burger, and call it the Original Burger, but that doesn't neccesarily mean that it would be good or original, in any sense. Like Adam was the first man, is this the First Burger Among Burgers? Did the original Harvey get the bright idea to put a hamburger patty in between slices of a bun? Did hamburgers exist before 1959, when Harvey's was created? What is "Original"? I resolved to find this out by eating one of their Original Burgers. But there was a problem.

The dilemma was thus...the Original Burger, or the Original Double Burger? On the one hand, I was hungry; on the other, the spector of the Freshman 15 loomed, ready to consume me by filling me up. Would it make a difference if I got that extra patty? Could I have gone for another option? Did my not eating breakfast and lunch entitle me to getting that double patty? Do I go for double portions of fun or a single serving of healthiness? Did it matter either way? I was still asking myself these questions right up until the guy took my order. Finally, the moment of truth.

"I'll have...uh...let's see...I'll have the Original Burger".

And so that was that. Self-constraint had won. I would no longer be subject to my epicurean whims. I was my own man.

After that, I was still hungry, so I went to the convenience store across the street and got a chocolate bar. Twix. You know, the one with two bars.

Watashi wa Nihon-jin desu.
I am Japanese.

Funky Fun in T.O.

For all of you who don't know, T.O. is how the "cool" people and/or tourist board calls Toronto, Ontario.

I had a pretty meaningful experience about individuality, the consumer economy, the artist, and art this Friday. As part of frosh, we got to see the Matthew Good Band. They played songs from their new album - a new genre I like to call "Whine rock" -not emo, but just top 40 rock, about how tough life is, but not artistically, musically, or lyrically inventive. Examples: Nickelback, Creed, other bands. As of now, the top 40 is divided as such - rap, Britney Spears pop, whine rock, and pop punk. Being on the top 40, I'm betting the school had to pay quite a bit to get him there. Not much, but a bit.

They had a few songs I could stand, and Matthew Good himself seemed like a good guy, urging the crowd to donate to Amnesty International. But I'm betting a lot more people went over to his merchandise booth, with CDs, shirts, stickers, and other stuff to show how cool and individual they are by supporting a band that's on the top 40. No Amnesty International stand. (Maybe if they sold more t-shirts and were on the top 40. )

For his Amnesty work, I can forgive him naming the band after himself, which is the biggest case of ego fellation I've seen since the days of the Pharoahs and their big ass Pyramids. (Let's celebrate my leadership by working on a big ass triangle building! Better get cracking, I just turned ten!) I mean, there's still plenty of names out there besides your own, Matthew. I can imagine this on his gravestone:
"I am Matthew Good, rocker of rockers, /Look upon my tunes, ye funky, and despair!" (Read Ozymandias by Shelley, you'll get it in context).

By the way, the other members of the Matthew Good Band are Dave Genn on keyboards and guitar, Ian Browne as the drummer, and Rich Priske as bassist.

(P.S. - I didn't like the concert).

Now, normally people require near-death experiences to see Heaven on Earth. All I had to do to see something that was darn close was to go to a little square on Yonge and Dundas on Friday, and unlike a Good band that was bad, this musical masterpiece was free. They featured God Made Me Funky, a band that proves a finer world can be reached. First off, it proved that equality can be reached. They had an equal number of black guys to white guys, I think they had a hispanic guy, and an Asian woman singing with them. They also had this one fat black guy who rapped, and he should be praised for very seldomly used fashion statement - the cape. He had a big red cape on with his Adidas jogging suit. If rocking was measured on the Richter Scale, that fashion choice would ensure San Fransico wouldn't exist. GMMF re-did old songs, such as Jungle Boogie and Let's Get It On, which were better than anything on the top 40 today. They did it for free. They didn't sell any CDs afterwards. They just advised people to go to their website: http://www.godmademefunky.com/. (The Internet is free, too) Their music was good; unlike Matthew Good, whose primary motive was probably to get this done and get people to buy his T-shirts and CDs, these guys primary motive was to make you dance. And a bunch of students from Ryerson actually got up and did that. They were distinctive, well-done, and got down. It was a great experience, and it really affirmed for me why I went to Toronto in the first place. Because back home in Regina, you couldn't really hear that, you could just hear about it.

So yeah, check out God Made Me Funky. It's divine.

C'est l'amour qui flotte dans l'air à ronde.
This is the love that floats in the air to round.

Blog Update

Blog Update
Sorry I haven’t written anything in a while, but I’ve been moving into college, plus, guess what the title of this website implies?

Learning a lot about big cities, as compared to Regina, where I’ve lived since I first came into this world, bloody and screaming.

Basically, Regina is McDonald’s, and Toronto is a foreign restaurant of some sort. Regina is stable and bland. Regina has two types of people – white people, and native people. And if you’re rich, like I was, fortunately and unfortunately, you don’t see much native people. There are other races, but they’re about as common as a full set of teeth in the Deep South. Downtown Toronto has Sikhs, blacks, Indians (Gandhi, not Sitting Bull), Chinese, and other types, around every corner. From the type of environment I was raised, it was crazy. The good kind of crazy.

It has also a bad kind of crazy. Homelessness is a real problem. I saw a black woman, lying face down, in the doorway of The Royal York Hotel, one of the more premier hotels in Toronto. Another guy started muttering something at me, something “goddamn” and/or “kill”.

Apparently, my great uncle tells me that the homeless can sniff out people who don’t live in Toronto. Maybe it’s because tourists acknowledge them.

My orientation day is basically just like high school. Except while the first couple days of high school, they say, “Be nice, get involved, don’t cheat”, they add, “Study too, because college is f----ing difficult”.

Also, college is just like high school too, except while high school put the fear into you that “If you don’t do well, you’re not gonna get into a good college, you won’t get a good job, and then you’ll be poor”. They just took out the good college part, now instead of teaching you to write S.A.T.s and get good grades and join a lot of clubs, now they’re teaching you how to write professional resumes and, in the case of my journalism program, encouraging you to join a lot of school newspapers so that employers can have evidence of your work.

Writing from my laptop. Hope my dorm room will have decent internet.

Peace.

Hitler ist ein furchtbare Mann.
Hitler is a terrible man.