Zombie Apocalypse

It could have been worse, I suppose. 

I could have heard myself singing.

I was listening to some music on my iPod and sort of dancing around the apartment. I say sort of because I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; an older white guy trying to shake his booty and get down with some soul tunes... Stevie Wonder. Umm... I looked kinda drunk and was debunked that I might have any crunk-funk in the trunk. So much for feeling hunky.

Dude... is that REALLY the best move you have? Don't ever, ever, EVER do that in public.

I tend to listen to a lot of different music. I sometimes listen to the tunes of my generation and sometimes I go looking for something fresh and new. I like world music. I like some of the intricacies of indie music (as I'm listening to Far Away by JUNIP). Sometimes I'm in a classical mood and other times I'll funk out to some arse-shaking soul melody.

~Stand in front of a runaway train,

Just to feel alive again~

from JUNIP's Far Away

I watched as the woman stepped off the curb, staring intently at her cell phone and not noticing the light was red for her and green for me. At no point did she seem to notice she had stopped four lanes of traffic with her blithe, incoherent meander across the white-lined tarmac.

A young man skateboards across three lanes of traffic without so much as a glance either way, headphones strapped to his toque clad head. I see red taillights ahead of me and the tell-tale dive of the front of cars under heavy braking.

One needn't see a B-grade horror flick to understand the zombie apocalypse is upon us. We've stopped paying attention and many of those among us are pretty mindless in our daily pursuits.

I suspect there are several reasons for this affliction. I could easily point at technology and blame our irrepressible fascination with what is happening on a small screen rather than what is occurring in the real world around us. I'm not sure technology is the issue though. Technology is technology and nothing more. We vilify technical devices when how we engage with said tech is a choice. If we, as human beings, weren't seeking some form of refuge, electronic or otherwise, cell phones, tablets, flashing big screen billboards and computers wouldn't have any fascination at all.

We are looking for something, yes?

Of course we are and that thing is distraction. We want to be distracted from our bland lives. We want to be distracted from whatever unimaginably gargantuan problem is dangling from a stick in front of our faces today (even though next week that trial will be forgotten altogether). We seek refuge from anxiety and heartache and broken down cars and money issues and death and taxes and dreadful bosses and eroding relationships by diving into whatever convenience is at hand to divert our mind away.

We are avoiding what we believe are the low points of our daily existence. The real issue with avoiding feeling the low points at all costs is overall numbness. We begin to avoid all feeling, even the good stuff.

And then, to get that joyous burst of energy we seek to feel alive again, we subconsciously stand in front of a runaway train.

Though technology isn't intrinsically a bad thing, (insert booze, drugs, internet, needy relationships, workaholics, surfing 198 nonsensical channels, etc), the use of it for escapism rather than dealing with the issue is the problem. It is, in my experience, far, far better to deal with an issue up front and resolve it, or let it go, than it ever is to attempt to sweep it under the Persian Avoidance Carpet and spend the rest of life walking on lumpy floor covering.

I tend to trip too easily to have lumpy floor coverings.

That we have become a society of zombies isn't really a surprise, is it? We have numbed ourselves to the “bad” feelings by using outside influences to avoid. By doing so, we have also numbed ourselves to the “good” feelings. We have become a society of avoiders and in that avoiding have become a collective of bland, middle of the road , boring skin suits.

The solution to the problem is not turning our backs on technology. The real solution is teaching humans the only way to deal with issues is to face them... and themselves. By facing (and feeling) the low points and dealing with them head on, we also open ourselves up to notice the exciting high points life sends our way every day.

If you want to feel again, forget the zombie movies and the text from your BFF and the depressing television news. All you need to know is none of the solution is outside yourself. It is all contained within... and it is a conscious decision to feel... everything.

Of course, there's always that funky, painful looking dancing thing-a-ma-hooey I seem to have a proclivity for. I'm not all that concerned about looking like a goof. After all, I can dance like no-one is watching... because they're not... because they're zombies.

I wonder what would happen if I sang.

Nah.

Getting Drilled

I was accosted by two women.

I used to think I would love the sensation of opening my gaping maw while simultaneously getting drilled. Let's face it... there’'s nothing like lying on my back and having the undivided attention of two woman sticking their fingers in my mouth. Add the yanking and prodding and my life becomes electric intoxication... sort of.

I was visiting my dentist. 

I like the idea of laying back in a lounge type chair with two good looking masked women paying undivided attention... without me having to beg and other groveling shit. Let's be honest... cleavage didn't hurt.

An extraction? Dandy.

The freezing was slow to take effect. When dentist lady tested the freezing with her six foot stainless steel cattle prod, she realized the freezing wasn't working quite the way she hoped. I realised it too. I suspect her first indicator was the Apollo-like missile launch of fecal matter straight out the leg of my Wrangler relax-fit pant leg onto the opposite wall. Umm, yeah Doc. I can still feel it.

The freezing only took four harpoon sized, orca-numbing needles.

The wiggling of the harpoon tip perforating my jaw bone inducing an involuntary butt clench was exquisite. Digging into the bone was my fault, really. I shouldn'’t have had that uncontrollable body spasm. You know, the spasm caused when the needle goes into the cheek, the dentist wiggles the cattle prod around trying to find the vein she missed on the five previous failures and you're back arches like you're getting your hair pulled by Andre the Giant and a Brahma bull is riding your ass? Yeah... that spasm.

Mental note... DO NOT share Brahma bull story.

It was all good once they told me that should be the last needle and the two of them managed to persuade me to calm down, decompress and slowly unravel myself from the overhead light thingy.

Who says white men can't jump?

The extraction was a blast. It was an improperly installed wisdom tooth cap that had broken off near the gum line. The one at the very back where invading hands make the gag reflex uncomfortably high and the breathing index non-existent. Naturally, the dentist thinks this is a good time to find out what you think about hydro-dynamics and it's effect on the quantum flu.

I'bd wen ayakink a ikink. Really? Now is a good time for conversation?

It was likely a bit difficult for the cute dentist and her just-as-cute assistant to finish up; the room now filled with the wonderful ambiance from the recently flushed brown emission due to an unadvertised, rocket-launched, involuntary barium enema blast.

The tooth extracted, I spit voluminous amounts of DNA evidence into the porcelain, gnome mini-toilet beside the hospital green lounge chair. They packed the dental equivalent of six fits-all, self expanding rolled arm slings into my mouth and pleaded with me to get the hell out. As I left, I could hear aerosol cans and a fire hose.

What I don’'t understand is how dentist's can let you loose on the world looking for all the world like a Picasso print when three quarters of your face is sliding off and everything you say sounds like an overly-indulged bacchanalian sailor at the local pub trying to pick up an equally overly-indulged college sorority sweatheart. I think they should have an unfreezing room somewhere so, like the querulous preschool sniveller that I am, I can lie down until I have enough control to speak some version of any Earth language and my arse has stopped surreptitiously draining poop.

I think they should provide a washer and dryer too.

Instead, they cut bait and run. On the way home, I had the inane idea of ordering a coffee to go (take out). It was an undertaking in drool laden, mental pause heaven “I’bid woulbd libik a largeb cobbee wibbit creabm abnd sugber.” Of course, that didn'’t fly as half my face was still hanging at my navel. I thought holding my lip with my index finger might help since it had long since refused to stop floundering where it doesn't belong. As if it would help them understand better, I start talking more loudly, “I’BID WOULBD LIBIK A LARGEB COBBEE WIBBIT CREABM ABND SUGBER!” People turned away and sniggered. The pretty woman in the next line stared wide-eyed and giggled. Why is it always the case that a pretty woman is around when your face is falling off and you smell like rottweiler turd?

I did made six bucks in pity donations and got a number for a decent shrink.

Finally, I gave up speaking and pointed at a pen and paper. Next time engage brain and use the drive-through with written instructions, Dude.

Eventually, I made it home despite my drooping, perma-wink, eye lid and left brain gelatinous mental incapacitation. The dentist warned me there would likely be a little bit of pain. When the freezing started coming out, I scrambled for my Pez dispenser loaded with 4000 mg tablets of Tylenol, a few muscle relaxers mixed in for good measure and started firing away like a inebriated, run amok Laura Croft.

I’m doing fine, though it's a bit difficult typing with only one eye sort of functioning, half my face laying on the keyboard and the extra treat of hallucinogenic induced crawling things. It's a bit distracting. Probably the 'ludes.

Did I mention the 'ludes?

I wonder if I learned anything from this experience. Nah. Probably not. I am male, after all. And they were pretty ladies. What is it with pretty ladies and guys doing stupid, he-man shit?

I think it's nap time. This is Spaceman Spiff signing out from the outermost edges of the rings of Saturn... or the middle of Sherwood Forest... I'm really not sure.

Are those fairies? I like fairies.

One O One

This is my one hundred first post on this blog... best make it a good one, no?

As blogs go, this is the fourth incarnation of the fluttering inner workings of the mind of Ed. In truth, I've written more than seven hundred posts of various form from incredibly inane to some form of vanity fuelled attempt at the cerebral. A good lot of those early works aren't fit for consumption by the general public due in part to language usage and also in part to content best left for the Universe to deal with. After I die, someone can break into my electronic files and read it all. The odds are pretty good I won't give a shit at that point.

Of course, if I'm being brutally honest with myself, some of those early posts are unmitigated crap anyway.

As incarnations developed, I managed to dip my foot into the pool of many genres, my voice seemingly shifting with the tides. While this may seem odd and somewhat wasteful, each attempt was necessary until I found my writing voice. It was then I understood I needed to re-member five things:

-I had to be honest with who I am.

-I had to bring that honesty to my audience.

-I had to write from my heart and not my head.

-I had to refrain from chasing the idea of what my audience might like.

-I had to be vulnerable and willing to voice my beliefs.

-Swearing is healthy (that's six but... fuck it... they're my rules).

As I'm writing this, it occurs to me those rules may well be keys to living. At the very least, they're a guide for me. Whether they ring true for each of you is open to discussion.

My friend Joyce and I were talking about tribes the other day; those people who think and feel similarly about a lot of stuff. Specifically, we were discussing our tribe and how cool it was to be around our people. I thought about it afterwards and realized my tribe doesn't have to agree with everything I agree with and, the underlying principals of how we, as a group, approach life does need to be very similar.

Don't the five ideas above apply to a tribe as much as they apply to writing? I think so. That makes my tribe a safe place.

So... I'm thinking about love. Not the “in love” kind, though that Dopamine inducing state is certainly rolled into the big, bright warm fuzziness called love. There are all kinds of love and it seems to me they all follow the same basic rules. And, like writing, it can be a trial and error deal at times. I know I didn't get it right all of the time. I also know I put forth my best effort... every time.

So how do the rules apply to love (whether friends, family, chosen family or lovers)? 

The first one is easy, no? If I'm not being honest with myself, in time that will show up in relationships. Not knowing who I am brings confusion and inconsistency to my actions. If I'm inconsistent, how do you suppose that affects the person I'm relating with. Confused, right? Putting forth my best effort means being consistent regardless of how they react... and I can only be consistent if I know myself and am being honest with myself.

The second rule is more difficult. Sometimes being honest with someone is painful. Brutal honesty isn't always the best path. That doesn't mean I have permission to wander through the door of dishonesty. At times, I think, it's important to not say anything. It's not about keeping the peace. It's about not going out of my way to hurt someone else. Having said all of that, even though the truth can hurt, it's better to be honest than to construct a house in quicksand.

It isn't real love if it's not coming from my heart. So, the third principal is pretty easy. If I operate from my heart, everything I say and do will have a loving intent.

I remember when I was younger I spent an awful lot of time trying to convince other people I was lovable. I would chase them for attention and, ultimately, do things that weren't who I was. Where is the sense in chasing people who continuously run away? There isn't any, really. I was trying too hard with people who wouldn't stop running. Eventually, I did two things. I came to the realization I am lovable and then, naturally, I stopped chasing approval. Real love isn't a race or a chase or a convincing argument.  

Vulnerability is a buzz word these days. The reason there is such a buzz about it is because it's true. Unless I am willing to open the vault without fear of reprisal and let out those things from my past I think are ugly, then it's not love. That doesn't mean I spontaneously spew all my crap on the Persian rug. It does mean I am brave enough to show it when appropriate. Love is whole. It's two whole people showing up for the dance. It's tough to dance with both partners having one leg tied behind their back. Vulnerability means feeling safe enough to hold your heart in your hand and say to someone, “Take care of this for me, will you?”

I started this out writing about writing. Then I went on about tribes. Finally I managed a discourse on love. My brain kind of wanders like that. I could just as easily written about cooking or hiking or skydiving or marriage counselling or my job. It's the same principal I've mentioned more than once... how I do one thing is how I do everything.

All I know is this, if I follow these rules, something else follows along I don't even have to put any effort into; respect. Respect for my audience. Respect for my tribe. Respect for those I love. And, respect for myself.

Ed's Respectful Living - One O One.

Be well, ya'll.

Two Tribes

If you think you see division in the world, you would be right. And the chasm is becoming larger. So large, in fact, the language used by either side is becoming unintelligible to the other and the echoes down the canyon walls becoming fainter.

I have a friend who believes there is a widening split in the psychological make-up of the planet. I agree. Long before we ever talked about the split I felt it looming in the distance. Every issue is becoming an antagonistic issue. If you think this is a Right/Left issue, think again. Both Left and Right can be as alienating and hostile as the other. If one looks closely enough, there is little difference in either modus operendi.

They are part and parcel of the same tribe.

One needn't look far for evidence.

Look at election campaigns here in Canada and in the States. The antagonistic division has become so wide I, personally, have difficulty relating completely with either Left or Right.

Look at gun issues which, for some idiotic reason, Canadians have taken up as their own, even though it's a U.S. problem. We, in Canada, are one of the top ten safest nations in the world (seventh). The U.S. Is ninety-fourth safest. We want to emulate them? Should be the other way around.

Look at immigration. We are all immigrants or descendants of immigrants. Remember not to throw the baby out with the bath water.

Look at the environment. The next hundred years are going to be... interesting... since we haven't felt the full effect of Global Warming. Think there's no Global Warming? Good. I have some beach property you might like.

Look at the gap between the wealthy and the poor. You think that's a healthy society? Really?

What you generally see in mass media and on the internet with regard to the above issues (and many, many others) is one tribe.

There are three tribes forming in the world; the Antagonists, the Evaluators and the Uninterested (who aren't really a tribe at all). And this isn't simply an economic thing, though economies of scale are affected. This is a psychological thing. It's a state of mind.

It all comes down to beliefs.

The Antagonists are easy to pick out. They battle over everything. There is not one issue they don't believe they not an expert about or at least deserves their opinion. Not one. And, Antagonists can be found on both the Right, the Left or the Centre of any issue. Despite opposing views, they are wrapped in the same ball of yarn. It's their way or the highway. They have a rear-view point of view. they tend to draw on history as their guide for the future. 

Antagonists tend to be exclusive and believe everyone is separate.

The Evaluators are the opposite side of the coin. They will stand up for what they believe all while accepting other people have a differing opinion. They tend to be more accepting of other points of view and cherish the right for each persons freedom of thought and expression. They know what they want the world to look like and they lead by example, not by force. They have a forward thinking point of view and they pick their battles. They believe history does not have to dictate the future. 

Evaluators tend to be inclusive and believe we are all one.

Between these two tribes is where the chasm lies. This is the split the world is seeing.

The Uninterested are those who amble through life with blinders on believing:

a) there's nothing they can do about it so why try,

b) if they think only "good" thoughts and play by the "rules" then their world will be okay (good people get hit by disease, cars, bullets and tornadoes... just saying)

c) if they ignore it or hide from from it, it will go away, or

d) they'll wait to see which side is winning then lean that way.

It's not difficult to decipher who resides in which tribe. How we do one thing is how we do everything. All one need do is follow the actions of folks and it will become pretty apparent where they stand. Social Media is a wonderful tool for such comparison. It's pretty easy to discern who is in which tribe simply by seeing what is posted or what they do or don't click “like” on.

Division has always existed. It's not something new. There have always been differing opinions about issues and there always will be so long as there are at least two humans occupying the planet. There have been and always will be differing views regarding life and how to handle issues as they arise. What has changed is the vision for the future. In that vision, the two sides are diametrically opposed. One group is inclined to set the rules while the other searches for common ground.

The Uninterested wait for someone else to make the decisions for them. The Uninterested are not a tribe simply because they lack clear direction.

The two tribes then, are the Antagonists and the Evaluators... and the gap between the Antagonist tribe and the Evaluator tribe is growing larger. I don't see that trend changing any time soon. The internal language of the two are diametrically opposed and largely incomprehensible to the other.

What does this mean in the grand schema? Not much really. It's only humanity and the planet which hang in the balance.

No big deal.

From the Journals of Oz...

It's a propaganda war.

Somehow the vast majority of people have been led along a path of mundane feudalism to a land of unremarkable, workaday nonexistence. They are sold the idea they can win if only they work harder, work smarter and work longer. All the shepherds require is for the sheep-like masses to continue working for the benefit of the few. It's as if those who have false wealth or stand in a self-imposed, self-regulated position of authority are to be catered to without opposition.

Obedience is the real scourge of modern society.

In the past, common men and women were forced, through fear and lack of education, to obey the inane misgivings of those who would lead. In the past, men like Amin or Hitler or the leaders of the industrial revolution and the Dark Ages and the Roman Empire and industrialized nations used brute force to keep human sheep from wandering off a broken-glass strewn path, citing the pain inflicted as the price of their salvation. It was those leaders who founded the idea that those with few resources were worth less and mere pawns in the fabric which they, the leaders, created in their own best interest... all the while dangling a carrot of false hope and imaginary enlightenment to the beleaguered.

Over time, the masses have become more intelligent; better read, more culturally diverse, more accepting of various viewpoints, more able to solve problems in unconventional ways, more knowledgeable of the workings of our world. Yet by and large they follow the same self-indulgent, self-propagating rules of those who believe they are kings without any thought of stepping outside an imaginary electric fence. The imagined foot of self-indulgent kings pushed at the throats of the many and the many feeling the force of the foot without that foot actually existing.

Despite increasing knowledge, the same demented, feudal mindset still proliferates from the Dark Ages and the Egyptian Empire and beyond.

We have been sold that he who has the hammer hits the nails without considering who made the hammer.

Without thought, many follow along the well trod trail with a propaganda nose ring tugged fervently from time to time by hand selected mass media. They are left believing their only goal in life is to outlast the person next to them. My insularism from the world was a choice to remove the ring and step off the path. Free of the propaganda, I am left to watch in rapt horror as the remarkably unremarkable are lauded while the rest are tugged past by nonexistent strings. I watch as extraordinary people lead a quotidian life where the only goal, it seems, is avoiding adversity or cultural banishment and to simply survive the longest.

Civil disobedience is the antidote for the common man.

There are far too many among the throng who have cast aside their wands and given up their power for the effortless road; the road of complacency and mindlessness and ultimate un-celebrated death. Millions have been slaughtered by blind obedience in wars. Millions have died of poverty while the fortunate few look on citing "if they would only become good citizens and play by the rules, this wouldn't happen." Millions more have died living in complacency and giving in to the puppeteers.

We are sold a blasphemous monologue of hope. Things mean more than people.

I have become an army of one, stepping off the path away from the herd to reclaim my identity. I search for those who have also escaped, though they seem to be few. I have left those who would follow along blindly. I have left the deepening, mostly inescapable rut and the nostril clogging dust of a billion chained, dragging feet to smell the invitation offered by life away from the captive herd.

I have chosen to resist simply by no longer following and to do what I know in my heart is right and just and honest. My chosen path is no path at all... to exist among those who choose to walk beside me for whatever time they choose... and to no longer be dragged by the nose.

I understand the enormity of my task; to whisper into the ears of those who pass in the unending line with wistful hope a few will hear and understand... and join me.

I have a hope that perhaps, one day, I will bear witness a rebirth... to critical mass.