My Toronto

    I have been back in Canada for 6 months now and the experience has been positive. For me Toronto is a good sized city with 4.5 million people, it has every sub type of person, plenty of parks and a thriving cultural scene. Like most major cities the majority of people aren’t from here. The cosmopolitan essence of the city draws people to it. On the negative, like other major cities, there is some pretty serious competition for decent places to live and good jobs. That’s the price you pay though living in a city where people want to be, it’s the same in Sydney, London, Copenhagen... 

 
     Toronto is the kind of city that if you look at a place and want to take an hour to think about taking it you're going to lose it. Luckily for me I timed my return with an opening in the house that I use to live in 4 years ago. So I was able to immediately sort out objective number one – a good place to live. Our brick house is on the outskirts of the Annex, which is the bohemian/ artistic area of town near to the University of Toronto. We have plenty of room for four people to live and even have a huge, by Toronto standards, back yard. There are loads of cool pubs/ bars, used book stores, art shops and off the beaten path video shops and cafes nearby. To anyone visiting Toronto a walk through the Annex on a warm day is a must – always so many characters if you’re a people watcher. You might even see Margret Atwood – the famous Canadian writer of “The Handsmaid Tale” and “The Robber Bride” - one of the areas residents strolling around. I’ve always liked Annex life... it’s been nice to see as well, after riding bikes for years in Amsterdam and Copenhagen, how many people are starting to ride them here too. The cars still rule the roads, and it can be scary getting passed inches away from your back tire, but there are lots of bike paths sprouting up like flowers in our back garden.

     Since being back, I have had a mixture of old and new friends. That’s just how I like it – some continuation from my past combined with some new connections. There are my two old roommates from years back, but we also have a new one from Germany. There are also my old friends - my base – starting with a guy I knew from traveling in Australia ten years previous. Knowing them brings back old memories and nostalgia's that I mix with the present incarnation of me. My return hasn’t all been perfect. Recently, I decided to part ways with an old friend from here after realizing that our core values were not compatible anymore. That was a tough call, as generally I see difference in people as a way for me to learn and grow as a person, but in this case the difference in ideology and more importantly scruples had became too great. A good person will reach down a thousand times to help their friends, but when people have become duplicitous there’s also strength in knowing when to cut your losses. In his place though new friends have sprouted up who represent the current me. All in all, I am very happy to have such a nice mixture of old and new. Four or five times already I have had visits from international friends. Nothing I like more than showing people the city, introducing them to locals, and getting to see Toronto through foreign eyes. Each time it has made me feel lucky that I live here.

     Others aspects of life are coming together a little more slowly. I’m doing some casual waiting work for a catering company. Certainly it’s not my dream, but at the same time it’s something to tide my over till other opportunities present themselves. Also, it’s a pretty good way to meet diverse people too. In a city with this much theatre, film and other media going on I believe, without irony, that in time something will come my way. Otherwise, Toronto is a great city to just “be” in. What I have always liked about here is that when the sun appears people’s best selves come out too. That’s the beauty of countries that have real winters; people enjoy the summer so much more. Something else I like too are some anti mainstream values I’ve noticed springing up.  For the first time I’m living without mainstream television. We have a television set, but we only use Netflix and download movies... and don't have any cable. Lots of people in Toronto, many of the people I know, are doing the same thing and escaping the homogenized messages of mainstream media and more importantly the sea of dull commercials that patronize us with their incomplete assessments of who we are and what they think we want. It’s refreshing stepping off the grid in this way and I might write more about it later.

   For now and in to the future Toronto is home. So everyone who reads this – come for a visit soon. 

A Writer`s Howl

     I wonder to myself how can an artist escape the fear of themselves and failure? My fingers and mind have run dry as of late. I’ve written pages that later I re-read and they feel false like illusions of what I really want to say. We live in a world where everyone can try and yet no one does. Once great novels and pages of ideas breathed out the life of the infinite for those yearning for more, but now it’s all just an Iphone application. Even right in this moment, I can feel an overwhelming feeling of stopping writing and looking at something else. Maybe that is the pull back into the normal, the pull back into everyone else. I don’t want that, I want to wade into the murky forests not seen before and recorded... I want to be real at least to myself. Charles Dickens quote lingers in my mind: “Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life... “

     

    At least now, I don’t care about success at least in that normal way. I just want to do something I can be proud of, I want to make myself happy and do what for me has always been so hard... living in the moment without thoughts of excitement in the future or memories of the past. Why can’t I be a Kerouac who pounds the keys for three straight days?... (it’s hard enough to pound them for 3 straight minutes)  possessed by the a spirit that only the likes of him and Henry Miller will ever know... a two way connection to the world Élan. All I get is uncertainty of self next to a world I’m not always sure I want to be a part of yet can’t turn my eyes away from. This is my time, not the past or the future, but right now. The choice is mine whether to cower from possibility or bask in its warmth...  

The Richest People in the World

    I haven’t much liked Birthdays for many years. Growing up in a smaller city like Edmonton I was brainwashed by the thought that 25 year olds were ancient and that people in their 30’s were suppose to be married with kids, have mortgages, and never heard from again. In Edmonton youths go crazy between 16 to 23 - lots of drinking, sex, and drugs. The prevailing pathos was get it out of your system, it’s “normal” to run wild, BUT – it’s also “normal” to give that up and pretend it never happened by the time you’re about 25. You don’t have to be settled at that point, but the logic is that you should be well on the path towards it that is if you too want suburban bliss in your future. For these reasons, I felt after I was 24, even though I was traveling the world, that I was “old” and there was no point celebrating getting any older. I had submitted to a life time of indoctrination. Now though with my 35^th Birthday just past last week I have come to realize that getting older isn’t such a bad thing. Over the next few blogs, as a tribute to my Birthday, I want to look at a few different kernels of wisdom I think I have accumulated over the years. Starting first with this:  

1) The Destination doesn't matter, it’s the journey that does...

    Would it be worth being rich someday in the distance future if every day to achieve that was a struggle you didn’t enjoy? A lot of people I have known become infatuated with the plan; the plan that is suppose to see them achieve everything they want in life, or more appropriately what they think they want in life. There are two issues with this concept. First, how do you know if what you think you want is what you really want until you have achieved it? And secondly, if your life has been spent working towards a goal what are you going to do when you get there? Making this last question rhetorical, I doubt many actually bask in the glory of achieving their goal for very long. Instead after spending a life getting to that point they return to what they know – “working” towards another goal. In the end it is not the goal one aims for, it’s the emotionality connected day in and day out in the pursuit of that goal.

     A friend back in Edmonton gave up his twenties in order to strive towards “maybe” having early retirement. He worked massive hours and barely spent a cent for ten years during his twenties. I’d heard that this friend at one point had been placed on a 50 dollar a week allowance by his wife. When I once asked what the point of this continued pursuit was years later– this after they had gotten the big suburban house and two nice, new cars - the answer I received was tellingly vague. She answered and told me they wanted more: an even bigger house, nicer cars, and finer things. When I asked her why, as they already had a lot by many people’s standards, she couldn't really answer - she just did. Filling in the blanks I’ll speculate that feeling superior to those around them must have played a large role. That vision of success is based on externalities, rather than creating success from within, it’s based on how you think other people will perceive you. A serious issue with this position is that in order for it to work you would have to surround yourself with people who hold similar success values. If people of similar external values are present it creates a vacuum where each actor in the system can take up their respective role of either looking up enviously or looking down smugly and contemptuous. This life path is clouded by negative mental states like pity, scorn of others, and jealousy. My friend’s pursuit creates these negative power oriented emotions on a day to day basis and becomes one of the central aspects of their journey. That’s why they wanted more in order to feel more powerful using external markers to gage that power. What about an alternative though?

     If internal concepts are chosen as a point of success than the journey can really be enjoyed.  Giving up life pursuits that are based around showing other people how great, intelligent, or successful one is allow the best chance to enjoy the journey. For myself I don’t want to be competitive or think I have leverage in relationships based on what I show externally. Rather, I want to connect with people because they interest me and I want to find out who they are and show them who I am.  Taking this point of view fills my journey with positive emotions like curiosity, empathy, and introspective realization. These are the feelings I want on a daily basis. I like to think if you interact with your environment in this way you might be able to discover truths about yourself and find out find where your real passions lie. That is what life is about anyway self discovery and finding out what it is you really wanted rather than what everyone else told you should strive for. If you are one of the lucky ones and find your passion you can mold your life journey to that passion, bringing it into your daily existence, and have the best chance at happiness.  There can be no doubt in my mind that a person that loves each day is the richest person in the world...

Coming soon. Part two:  Be completely yourself and you will attract the right people.

Follow the Leader

    On Ossington Avenue, Toronto’s latest “cool” spot, sitting chatting with a pretty Danish singer from an old Copenhagen friend’s band. The band, a three piece Euro electronic fusion group, (the best quick description I can come up with) were set to play a show later that night and beforehand we were all smashing down beers. First, I’ll point out that the Danish people are different than North Americans... beyond language they’re much more communal and FAR less competitive and individualistic, because of this they are VERY open, giving people. In most circumstances Danes aren’t trying to impress when they talk to you they’re just being open about themselves and their point of view. You’ll always seem to get a deep conversation out of them. This night was no different... 

     She and I sat talking while the other two band members chatted in Danish beside us.  Before long, as it so often does, the talk turned to relationships.  She presented a fascinating point of view that most North American’s would be reluctant to admit... even if they silently thought it to themselves. Her point was that if one romantic partner inherently wanted the other to take charge of the relationship and be the dominant party no amount of kindness, attempts at equality, or romantic gesture heaped on them could stop them from feeling frustrated and unsatisfied if that wasn’t happening. Intrinsically, they need to be the one doting rather than being doted on. In relationships there are people who naturally love more; they’re hardwired to do this and prefer it. To them being on the bottom of the relationship looking up in a kind of wide eyed admiration is where they want to be - not being put on a pedestal by another person. This line of reasoning does have explanatory power when you think of that “nice” guy not getting the result he wants or why some people let themselves get utterly dominated by their partner without complaint. A person’s nature does not just mold itself to egalitarian principles of evenness. People have roles they feel most comfortable in and not to play that role is to create an incongruence inside them.

    Have I seen or heard other corroboration of this effect she spoke of – oh yes. Mainly I have heard from girls – a large cross section of them of different ages – saying how they don’t like the present crop of so called: emasculated men.  This phenomenon that they speak of has cultural and historically underpinnings as previous to the modern era, let say post 1960’s..., men were expected to be more dominant in relationships. Present day reality has had two surprising effects though. First, many woman have been given the chance to have more agency in their lives than ever before, and secondly many men have jumped at the chance of having less. The reality is there has always been men that wanted to be led and woman who have wanted to lead... now each are having a much larger chance to do that.My Danish friend and I agreed that this effect is not gendered per say really what is at the heart of it is personality types. The real problem resides when a person sticks to unflinchingly to the role they “think” they are suppose to play. Exuding externally a self that does not meet the inner person is a sure fire way to romantic calamity and overall unhappiness.

   In the end it was just talk over beers. Did we reach any definitive answer?.... nah, but still exploration of different ways of seeing the world is art and a joy in of itself. I've never been one to think that reality fits into the nicely constructed boxes that the media tries to place it in. The truth is far more varied and animalistic than people comfortably would like to admit.

Those Other Addictions

     A lot of thoughts coursing through my head at the moment, it feels like I have to many things to write at once...  So the possibilities: descriptions and my thoughts of major cities I have lived in; a collection of some of the paradoxes of life and things you only learn through direct experience of them; and, my most recent thought about the mind and body connection and how that connection leads to different types of addictions. I have thought about the latter a fair bit over the years so I’m going to try to expand upon it more now.  I see addiction as an individual compulsively trying to return to a previous feeling, or body state, through some form of ritualized behavior. The paradox of this attempt is that trying to replicate a body state from a previous moment is impossible, which ironically makes the person try more, not less, using the same tactic...   

    I remember being intrigued a few years ago by the film: “The Hurt Locker.” The premise of the film was a man addicted to the adrenaline he receives from war and risking his life to defuse bombs. His addiction is to the extent that he constantly asks to be reassigned to combat zones despite having a wife and kids. Crazy right? Well here's some perspective on it. When I was 12 years old I use to fantasize about living forever. Back then everything had the golden hue of newness; possibility was everywhere and I thought it would be that way forever... such is youth. Adulthood, and the brain alterations of the teenage years, leads to a superior ability of pattern recognition but a loss of much of that youthful, magical thinking and the awe it inspires of life. Vice, and the addiction that springs from it, comes from a person trying in vain to return to those child like feelings they held once of excitement. The lead character in “The Hurt Locker”, in a rather brazen way, was doing just that; he was reaching out for his own variety of pure excitement and the sense of REALLY being alive it gave him.  Now society throws out the term addiction rather loosely mainly just using it for perceived negative vices like drink, gambling, sex.... etc. I see a wider application for the term. I think it stretches much further and actually is a central dynamic of personality. People become addicted to specific ritualized action for the alteration they perceive it to generate in their environment, in people around them, and most importantly inside their own body. Finding and creating opportunities to act out these ritualized actions consistently will become a central tenant  of their personality.

      Over the years a lot of people have told me the things they were addicted to: drugs, alcohol, travel, being nice, power, sex, extreme sports, physical pain, cleaning, being sick, positive affirmation, self defacement, altruism, victimization, approval, superiority, reading, timidness... the list stretches into infinity. The central dynamic is that routinized actions are fallen back to as a method of changing ones present mental state. People covet certain chemical states in their brain as alterations of chemical mental states are what generate physical memory. Those memories are more definite than verbal memories. As an example, think of that feeling when you scored a big goal, or fell in love... it was not the event itself, it was the physical reaction in your body to the event that makes those memories so salient.  Addiction comes into play when people act and think in specific ways in order to try to recreate those same feelings again artificially.

     So stepping back to the “Hurt Locker” the feeling of adrenaline and the clarity it produced in his mind was what he loved most. He loved it more than safety, more than his wife and child, and maybe even more than his life. What I couldn’t realize when I was 12 years old is that life is remembered in terms of major moments that illict strong sensations and feelings... not the hours of placidity. Of course, contentment in the absence of excitement is the sign of mental health, but how many people really know that contentment? How many people aren’t in some way or another tying to shake things up in their world for a return to whatever that feeling when they really felt alive was? My perspective is skewed like everyone else, but my answer to my own question would be – not many. 

The Rules of the Game

    They never said it would be easy and it hasn’t been. On the weekend a friend told me that I need to start playing the game more here in Toronto. I do know what he means, but at the same time what if the game doesn’t align to my own scruples? Sometimes, I wonder about just being a martyr in my own life... not conforming and just going with it. That’s what so many interesting artists did (not that I put myself in their ranks) ; they had the ultimate courage to live their lives as they wanted and accept the consequences for those choices.

     Things can be tough at the best of times. Both of my housemates are in constant fear of being fired at any moment from their jobs. Forget the carrot, their bosses have got the stick out and are ready to give them a whack. I don’t like seeing people under constant fear in that way, it’s very unnatural and a figment of the new economy where employers wield such unyielding power in the name of corporate flexibility. To make matters worse, in my experience, so many middle managers are type A drones who react with fear and active resentment to intelligent people. Middle managers are the cookie cutters and unless you want to be like my roommates, living in fear, the best thing to do is just give up, conform, and fit in. This I have been told is what is called: paying your dues.  Paying your dues for what though?... so you can ascend to middle management too.

    I see some people around me interested in dominance and social power. Fredrick Nietzsche said that in his view the major human desire is “the will to power.” The idea asserts that our humanness makes us strive to want power first over ourselves then also over our environment and other people. I don’t think that view can be refuted when one considers our shared world history of war, genocide, and brutalization of our environment. I chatted recently to some people who spoke longingly of their desires for power.  Listening to their cavalier blabber about dating, woman, and success could roll anyone’s eyes.  They talked about girls as interchangeable parts or objects, not having feelings or empathy for other people, and the central importance of networking. I’m not denying that dominance can create a euphoric mental reaction, why do you think so many people are addicted to pursuing it, but at what cost is one willing to chase that? Personally, I still won’t step away from my intrinsic hope that everyone I know will succeed and be happy – I don’t want to feel superior to them.  My recent conversation partners don’t seem to get that, for them it’s about putting your foot down on someone to move up rather than helping them up with you.

       I would prefer company on my journey through life, but I’m not terrified to walk the path less trodden.  People will come and go, but each day I will be the one that looks into the mirror. I just want my friends and the people I care about to really know who I am and me to be able to show them I care about them the best that I can. I won’t create a smoke screened facade of myself to generate maximum benefit in a world based around accumulation of things, pseudo relationships, and envy in others.  I’m playing a game, we all are..., but I need to have some control of what the rules are. 

The Ant of Copenhagen

   The front entrance at the Drone Bar in Copenhagen doesn’t stand out. It’s located in Copenhagen’s ethnic/ bohemian neighbourhood of Noroborro nestled between discount mobile phone shops run by haggling middle eastern men with bad teeth; dingy Turkish grocers that somehow slash their prices for vegetables to half what you pay at the supermarket; kebab shops – with varying levels of grease, and the colourful, lively street art that decorates Noroborro’s alleys and buildings. Friday night Drone has a buzz, it’s a hipster haven and a good night out.

    

   For any party goers looking for drinks, laughs and a good time there was just one small hurdle to clear – getting past the Drone’s door man.

********************************************************************

Scenes from Drone 1:

          Standing beside the bar downstairs in the Drone was a tall Canadian with brown purposely messy hair, black plastic frame glasses, and a black corduroy jacket. After a night out in the city, he’d decided to stop in for one last chance to talk to some girls on his way home. A tall thirty something guy wearing an H&M blazer and fake italian leather shoes was beside him talking to a much younger, pretty girl.

    Considering himself a writer and a people watcher the Canadian kept vantage. His first impression was that this guy was trying way to hard. Her body language was definitely saying no. Instead of walking away and trying elsewhere try hard, as the Canadian came to think of him, would not relent. It was fairly obvious that he didn’t like the taste of defeat and he was going to let her know about it.

    To her startled reaction he grabbed her shoulder to hammer in his point.

      

 ******************************************************************  

The Ant 2 

    Hipsters queued up with their slightly ironic haircuts, skinny jeans, and varying degrees of facial hair each waiting tentatively to see if they would get the nod that signified entry.  Even pretty Danish girls in their black miniskirts and leggings didn’t walk straight past the doorman. Anybody could have him say: "Du er desværre for stiv til at komme ind.” which meant you are not coming in here. Each person needed to survive his stare down; a field sobriety test far more effective in his view than any breathalyzer. Occasionally guys would protest and he would rise off his stool showing that he only stood about 5 feet and 3 inches. (160 cm) . He stood there defending the door with his diminutive size like a warrior ant.

********************************************************************

Scenes from a bar 2:

     They were speaking English. The Canadian still couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He sat back watching. Danish girls when incensed were not afraid to really stand their ground. She was a foot shorter than try hard, but she was not intimidated and seemed to be revelling in her obvious conviction that this guy was a douche. 


    Just as a crowd was starting to gather the little cock sure bouncer the Canadian noticed, and had thought looked like an ant, when he arrived grabbed try hard from behind by the collar. The bouncer seemed to materialize from nowhere as he so effortlessly mingled into the crowd.

    Try hard turned around to face nothing... that is until he looked down a foot below him.  

********************************************************************

The Ant 3:

   Being short could have made the ant two ways: quivering and invisible or larger than life. He choose the latter and acted as if his real height was the shadow he might cast upon the wall. His eyes were big and leering and like the Mona Lisa always seemed to be looking at you. Though his height forced upon him the reality of looking up he never seemed to look down or away either. He had lily white skin that looked like it would burn on a cloudy day. His hair was short, almost in buzz cut, and styled conservatively. He tried to fill his voice with masculinity, but was held away from this aim in a near mockish ways by the limitations of his vocal apparatus. 

********************************************************************

Scenes from Drone Bar 3:

   The Canadian used the anonymity of this disturbance to lean a little closer to watch.      

    The bouncer spoke Danish first, but quickly ascertained from the glazed look on try hards’ face he didn’t understand. Changing to English he continued: “I don’t like this. You will leave now!”

    Try hard, drunkenly resisted his face visibly showing disdain. “Hey, I’m just having fun. She ain’t as hot as she thinks she is. She’s just a c&*t!”  

     Hearing that, and now backed up by the bouncer, the girl started yelling even more vehemently than before.

  The bouncers hand had not left try hard’s collar. With a feverish look in his eye he reasserted: “you will leave now!”

“Fuck you, no I won’t.” Try hard replied.

     

    Having been a youth in the 1980’s the Canadian had been privy to the craze of ninja movies from that time. He knew from the resolute stare on the bouncer’s face that was not the right thing to say. He might look small, but there was no way he could be this confident without some secret ninja skills at his disposal. This was going to be some David versus Golliath shit... he thought.

    With lightening speed and startling force the ant punched try hard in the stomach then grasped his arm in some kind Ji-Jistsu hold. Immediately the smug arrogance on his face melted away being replaced with childlike deference. Withinn seconds he was pacified.The Ant escorted him across the bar as hipsters looked on quietly, but attentively. 

    The Canadian took another leisurely sip of his pint of Tuborg. From his view what had transpired had looked like a son forcefully taking his dad to his room – not vice versa.  He thought in boozed soaked candour maybe I’ll write about that tiny little bouncer someday. I'll probably forget though... ...