daily ruzz

2 days left, so let me ask a stupid question

i like stupid questions. i'm overly fond of them, actually. sometimes the stupidest questions reveal our own ignorance, or the ignorance of our culture.  the first person who said, but aren't slaves people too probably seemed stupid to his (or more likely her) time. The first person who said aren't women peolpe too? the person who said is there another way than capitalist democracy? wait.. has anyone asked that now that we really know the face of capitalist democracy? capitalist facism.

so my question is: when you are barely making enough to eat your daily bread, and living by your labour, how are you ever supposed to get yourself ahead.

every single thing in this country is set up for those people safely on the other side of the poverty line. every single thing. I know, i spent a lot of time there.

And i ask you, where is justice in our time? where are people's hearts? where did the infatigable human spirit go? is this the best world all our brains could create?

or do we just not care enough.

I used to think the evolution of the human (in non-physical terms) was inevitable. how could we not, with our love and our hope, and our untiring taste for a better life, how could we not evolve. how could we not bring the dregs and unwashed with us when we went?

but that was before i understood how deeply fear rules the lives of most. how deeply we've allowed our own isolation. how thuroughly we've been processed by the powers that be.

i guess it must be true, and it's certainly supported by history, that the only thing that moves humans is outright oppression.

which i guess is why we cycle from fear and pulling back (which increases the extent of the oppression quite naturally) to rebellion (once it gets too great).  but none of this is progress. a world fascinated by productivity and not having a single thought on progress.

pathetic.

i want to know where all the people who dare to ask "how can we improve this world?" have gone? i guess they probably gave up when they realized, what i realize, that people don't give a flying fuck about "the world" because there is no collective spirit on any level. they care about themselves, they have class-self interest and that's the end of it.

sad.

amazing the things that happen inside you when you do try to dream of a better world. try it sometime, maybe between commercial breaks, eh?

sequestered

in moments i leave this place. this comfortable bum shaped divet in my rollie office chair and piss off to spend the day buried in paper. meh.

the taxman cometh and he sayeth doeth your damneth taxeseth.

hi taxman. (he reads my blog, btw.)

so i blew out like 3 hours gathering papers last night and today i get to go make them turn into other papers which somehow please the people who are pleased by that sort of thing. i think the entire process is ridiculous.

i think taxes are criminal. a violation of liberty. and unjustly foisted on the canadian public.

i'm not saying i object to taxation in principal. but, i do think it's wrong we are born into effectual slavery. born with a social insurance number waiting and contributions expected.

so comepletely devoid of imagination.

so i go, in protest. my mom is dragging my by my ear because shes also an accountant and has developed some sort of understanding on these matters. I'm comforted to be around someone who has resolved, for themselves, the importance of this stuff. because i don't get it.

and if it were left to me, i would never file, nor pay taxes again.

and i wouldn't even feel bad about it.
but, you pick your fights if you're smart.
and i have bigger fish to fry than an unjust government.

mostly because there isn't any other kind of governement.

can you tell how happy i am to be pulled from the code i've been crafting to go piss around with the mundane reality of the "grown up" world. and yes, i use that expression insultingly.

grownups are a waste of the air they breath.
but man are they productive.
and they sure consume and pay taxes.

which is good because it gives the mega-corps customers, and prevents the corporations from having to pay taxes themselves.

yay systematic indoctrination. you rock.

now and then

no time to talk, but i wanted my current disposition to be recorded so when i get distracted from it in a few minutes that i can recall my anger and frustration and use them.

it seems, for developers who work project work that your constantly conceeding this or that to survive, and so it goes that you never really get to disperse any notable energy towards what you care about, you end up, to quote an old phrase, "making your living by your labour."

this is fine, most people do. but good programmers and developers, and problems solvers should be making their living by their minds. by their creativity, ability to bring disparate ideas and models into new and interesting manifestations.

in short, you can get any old hack to write code, but if you have a gift for conceptualization and imaging new solutions that should be the heart of your work, and code is an enabler.

i don't live like that, though i should.

lets see if i can fuel this anger into anything meaningful.

promise?

if someone could promise me a full night of sleep, i would do anything they asked. smother jesus. restore hitler. eat my own testicles.

quote.

ive been thinking about this tagline/quote lately.
but i'm quite happy with "nothing special, just blogging"

so i'm just going to lay it out for you because i think it's the sort of thing some people will dig.

"you can hate me if you want, but fuck if i'm doing the leg work for you"

which, is to say that people are always putting shit on us and it's up to us to make it part of our lives. Approve of me, or don't. Love me, or dont. and even hate me (cuz i know i'm entirely hateable because i don't cow to you bitches) but don't expect me to do the leg work of internalizing those things and making them matter.

you wanna hate me, make the effort and hate me all the way.

i'm super busy people.

i'm super busy folks. trying oh so fucking trying to get it all back in shape. trying to get it all in line, you know, ducks and rows and dwarfs with pink bows and all that shit. That whole getting sick thing, not so smart after all.

oh sure, it felt like a vacation (aside from the pain, the suffering and the cost of meds) but what it really was was

the beginning of hell.

part two. motherfucker.
part two.

and yeah.

so i would love to spend my time entertaining your asses, would love it more than anything actually, because you kids, you kids you hear me, but i can't.

and you don't really, anyways.

i have a billion things i want to do.
time for only two.
maybe one.

so, sit back, enjoy the summer. grab yourself a cooler (and maybe a shooter girl) and take it easy man...

i will get caught up sooner or later.

I realize you don't care

But, in many unexpected ways this post of adens impacted my recent post regarding my anger on the lazy assed overblown state of the blogging world (Don't Hate The Player, July 31 2004) and because i'm just crazy with the a hrefs i thought would throw some flow to aden for being such a shit in general and fueling my fire. Her greatest flaw is she believes all the shit you folks tell her.

A quote for you

In that grand past people told stories about their lives. I am not talking about an account of what they had for dinner, and watched on tv. I am talking about feelings, about going to a family members funeral, about falling in love, falling out of love. Going through addictions, obsessions, world events. At that time it was about telling stories, it was about using the creative process to chronicle your life.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/closed_system/1266.html

Don't hate the player.

I have always believed, and my experience supports it, that people are contrary motherfuckers. That most people when presented with the word yes, will say no. When presented with the idea of positive, they will take the negative. They will be contrary for the sake of some underdeveloped fantasy of individualism. Because in what we do we make ourselves more distinct than in our choice of yes or no. What more pubic means is there to differentiate yourself from the masses than to poo on their choices and reduce those who might be working on different planes through our most modern implement: cynicism and one left over from the ages, a refusal to truly know something. A refusal -as if refusing as an act in and of itself were some measure of taste, style, intelligence or other-- to engage, to evaluate or come to know this thing which we have chosen to refute, denigrate or place the most offensive sully possible: to make common.

It takes no effort to make a sharp but insecure mind feel condescended to. They do the hard work themselves after one stops speaking. It's essential to take extra steps with these wayward sons and daughters, lest we lose them to their illusions about right, wrong and the value of classes, hierarchy and levels.

Everything in nature, every single thing that surrounds you and i here today is a part of the most pervasive and enduring class war ever mounted in the history of life. Every bug, plant, leave of grass, animal and other who might contain the spirit of life is part of an absurdly brutal class system. Man's denial of this obvious truth when looking at himself is one of our most tragic failings.

There are men who are more handsome, more funny, more intelligent and more experienced than me. This is a fact. It's plain truth. There are men who get less pussy, and more. Men who make more money or less (few who make the same, but mathematically someone must), men who live more. or less. We have these variations to make life thrive. Deny this at your own peril.

And, just as my cock is small and thick by comparison to some guy i saw in a porn movie last night there are some writers, some bloggers, some photographers, poets, painters, shoemakers who do things better than others. Some more worthy of an audience. Some more worthy of praise, commentary and further reading. If you don't believe this get out of the car now because i don't have the energy to deconstruct your mamby pamby new age "everyone is great, everyone is wonderful" philosophy. Tell it to the bottom of my boot right before i crush your face for the last chicken wing in the middle of Armageddon.

I support David Fincher.

David Fincher makes movies. Great movies with visual textures that make me cum buckets. I figure i'm smarter than him. I figure i fuck better than him too, but i still support him.

David Fincher does not support me.

David doesn't write comments on my website telling me how great he thought my blog about jude's errant penis was. He doesn't because in this media foodchain i fall below him.

David Fincher ranks higher than me. Through skill, hard work, sucking gay porn producers, or whatever. The point is he raised his fucking game and did what he needed to do to get to that point where i know him but he doesn't know me. Where, no matter if i am more talented, better looking, or as i said before a better lay, he still gets the cake for the movies. I don't. He still puts asses in the seats of theatres across this great conflicted land. I don't.

I entertain a few. I piss off more but i have my place. I know it.

I've been around long enough i don't need to take anyone's shit. I've played every variation of the blogging game you can think of. I've played every variation of the attack and defend, im smart are you smarter, im funny are you funnier, i type fast are you faster games you can imagine. I know the shit i'm talking about because i lived it. And it doesn't mean i'm not wrong.

it just means i don't fuckin care if i am. Because, pisshead, I have as much right to my opinion as you do. In fact, i would argue with most, i have the right to my opinion and yours. and if you can convince me otherwise i will be a swell dood and let you keep yours.

Maybe.

Don't like how it works?

Tough shit. Take your keyboard and go cry to mama. Lifes hard. People are shallow, vain, and fickle. They want to be more, and i respect everyone of them for that, but at the end of the day, when the shit is falling every last one of us is going to be pushing over grandma to get out of the way.

it's how we survived this long.
it's how we continue to survive.

i'm telling you the truth your brittle ego already knows.

and as far as the writing hierarchy is concerned it's essential to praise the few great minds we find and verbally abuse those who aren't. Because without this safety mechanism, we are doomed to be over-run by an avalanche of aunt bea's peanut butter cookie recipes. We have too many writers. We have too much being said by too many people who should just go annoy their spouses.

And only through violent attrition can we overcome this dearth of mediocrity.

Peaceful means. Friendly, i love you you love me means is going to get us no where.

china put a law saying one child per couple. i say, we put a law saying one blog per city block and you have to debate all comers to hold your spot.

because then there are fewer voices. more voices that are saying something and we aren't all being bored to fucking death with each word.

Blogging is no different than regular media. You get to the top by being hot, clever, funny or ruthless.

Whining about your needs isn't going to get you anywhere.

go over to some a-list blogger and pick a fight. give the fucker a bloody nose. Tell him his font is so 1998. Wake him up. He's there now, but does he deserve to be?

if not, feed the fat to the wolves and let the hungry rule.

i'm angry, and you should be too.

10 reasons you fuckers lost out with the demise of judekyle.

10. January 2003: Brother Jude tells us why hate is important, why we can't have love without it and why bush's greatest evil is his love of america.

Yes hatred can be a horrible thing. It can lead to genocide, war and abuse – all forms of violence physical and mental. But so can love. Love is equally responsible for acts of genocide, war, and abuse. Love co-exists with hate in almost every act of violence one can conjure: the Holocaust was as much about Hitler’s love for the German people as it was about his hatred of the Jews; Bush’s war on Iraq is as much about his love for the US as it is about his hatred of Saddam; and my father’s abuse of me as a child is as much about his love for my mother as it was hatred for me.

9. February 2003: Brother Jude tries in vain to wake us up. How many times did he try?

You are dead. You…the person reading this, the slave of North America’s exploitative, consumerist, propagandist society. You are dead. Oh! you may think you’re alive, reading your newspaper or magazine, drinking your decaf, venti, vanilla, non-fat, no foam latte, but you’re not. You’re dead.

8. February 2003: Brother Jude gives us one of the most memorable peices of short writing i've read. These lucid pictures, built on his words will be with me to the day i die. But, i made the effort to read it. To absorb it. To feel it. How many chances did we get to do this?

i'll know her instantly. steel blue eyes, barely discernable eyebrows, wisps of hair cross hatching the horizontal creases of her forehead. her tan is the darkness of freckles. her hair is so truly blonde, and she's spent so much time in the sun, that i can barely find a fleck of white amid her blanket of deep brown freckles. but it is her lips that i can't get enough of. large, full, cracked by the sun, and as freckled as the rest of her, they are a wonder of dried crimson.

7. March 2003: Brother Jude shares his uniquely honest american shame and encourages discussion and action. You've heard of action right? and no, its not when you get off the couch to get a beer.

the war on iraq is wrong. the united states of america, my country, is the world's most horrifying aggressor. i am ashamed of my country and it needs to be stopped. and if thomas jefferson were alive today he'd agree with me completely. just read his constitution folks: he put down the ground rules for revolution and this is certainly one of those times.

6. April 2003: Brother Jude shares one of the most pain-filled parts of him, and how it taught him about love and beauty. Honest. Real. Human.

i look up and i see a picture of my grandfather. he was one of the most important people in my life, the man who taught me to see beauty in everything, my namesake, and he was murdered so long ago. sad that my mind always goes to that thought, to his murder, when i think of him

5. May 2003: Brother Jude gives us some historical context for the fascist slde of the US. Saying what many think, but few would say. What many fear but few dare contemplate.

the shift toward fascism is not a new development in the united states. the u.s. economy began its inexhorable slide toward fascism as far back as america's furthest left president, franklin delano roosevelt (or, perhaps, the slide began further back still. it could very well be the reponsibility of abraham lincoln and his disregard for the constitution, or maybe it began with jefferson and the creation of an economy based on slavery). f.d.r. loosened the control of competition, allowing monopolies -- or near monopolies -- to spring up in several war and civil industries. this process continues today.

4. September 2003: Brother Jude shares his vision, his strength and his passion, and shows us inside the creative mind. But, that's work too. isn't it?

my caesar will make all the men and women equal in their dress. women will be warriors and senators, not just wives. women will do battle with rocks and stone caesar to death side by side with the men. if the entire cast is without shirts and the men "act" as though this is normal then it will appear normal to the audience and become invisible -- particularly when it is juxtaposed with the cleanliness and clothing of the soothsayer.

3. October 2003: Brother Jude facilitates the creation of an interactively written play through a blog and comments, encouraging creativity, engagement, and an equal chance for everyone to be a part of the creative process. How many took part? How many watched The Bachelor?

hamlet lives by the deaths of rosencrantz and guildenstern; oedipus saves his people through his figurative sacrifice (his crippling at the hands of creon) and his literal sacrifice (his blinding).

2. October 2003: Brother jude shows us, that behind all that brain power, he's more about love than you might ever guess. And more fragility. And more humanity than most would ever share in a public forum.

but she'd come home because she was sick. not sick in a bad way, it's just that she's been fighting a cold for a week and the babies finally told her that she needed to stay home and rest. so she came into the bedroom to kiss my lips, probably through a fog of stinky morning breath, and she whispered to me that she was going to go get some groceries and then she'd be right back home. she'd be right back home.suddenly, fatigue took my body and the comfort of knowing she'd be here while i slept made me long for sleep. i begged for a blanket to keep me warm. she asked if i need pillows for my hips, but i told her i had enough to do the job. she was gone and then back with the blanket, wrapping me up like she will our children. i felt safe and loved, and i slept.

1. November 2003: Brother Jude, facing his greatest public failure, for his most ambitious project demonstrates he is more about meaning than being right. He admits his flaws, he admits his hopes and he stands behind his team when they are attacked. Taking the bullet for us.

he was totally right in his criticism of the imbalanced vocal performances -- some were strong and some were desperately weak. he didn't like the soundscape, nor the lack of physical interaction with the actress -- both artisitic choices that i remain proud of and believe work well. and he didn't like my lead actress, the girl playing brutus. but she's doing precisely what i've asked of her and her failings -- which i don't see -- are solely my responsibility. i directed her to be quiet with her body and react with her eyes (a strong choice in the intimate space we're playing in). i directed her to find the powerful core of brutus and not slip into an over-the-top mad woman. and she's doing just that.

I could've put 50 more. He never stopped giving us some of the best parts of him. But you cowards and small minds either ignored him or pigeon-holed him to the point where giving to you was tantamount re-enforcing the "judekyle" stereo type and making it even easier for you to dismiss him rather than do any work, make any effort, expend any thought and meet him in the middle to explore this medium together.

shame on you.

We lost a great one. And his brother jude's last teaching is: If you kick a man enough times, no matter how passionately he cares, he's going to kick back, then he's going to go somewhere else.

walk with the truth

my man jude has called it quits. given the state of his blog, where he consistantly talks about important things, consistantly gives straight talk and goes out of his way to welcome discussion and then gets labelled as a bully, i can't say i blame him.

i accept some responsibility for that, but the sad fact is that most people are too fucking afraid of confrontation and when confrontation rears its beautiful head (and i do think many of you need to learn that confrontation and debate is beautiful) most of y'all would rather slag than engage intelligently. and when you're called on it you turtle and fuck off.

read his goodbye and fuck you post.

And why not up the irony by commenting for a change.