on the future

“Don’t lay any certain plans for the future; it is like planting toads and expecting to raise toadstools.”

 - John Billings

LA DOMINATION MASCULINE – BANDE-ANNONCE

LA DOMINATION MASCULINE – BANDE-ANNONCE
envoyé par baryla. – Regardez plus de films, séries et bandes annonces.

LA DOMINATION MASCULINE – BANDE-ANNONCE

LA DOMINATION MASCULINE – BANDE-ANNONCE
envoyé par baryla. – Regardez plus de films, séries et bandes annonces.

The most exciting film of the year

So…. had some trouble uploading the video, so you’ll just have to go load it yourself.

Enjoy! I know I will.

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xavkan_la-domination-masculine-bandeannonc_shortfilms

 

et maintenant

There is nothin like a little wine to make you see things blurrily. I’m supposed to be writning a short story based on a recent dream, but I’m too disappointed by the lack of life going on in my existence lately. This is something that the dream speaks about directlybut I am not entirely convinced that anger is not the answer.

Oh fuck off 

Bra straps digging, shoes pinching

and I decide to wear a suit

just to dissapoint you.

 

Yes, I want a brifcase and an empty uterus

pardon my lack of tact

And you smile dissmissively as I curtsey like so many floozies

waiting for a date

I watched your videos on you tube

and I would have been proud

had I not been so dissapointed by everything that did not happen

HAHAHA so I’ve said it,

but what does it matter

My hair is not long

I do not wear makeup like I wear clothes

I do not drink nearly enough to forget

and I do not accept your sympathy

although empathy would have been much a different matter.

 

I cannot  believe in this thing called coherence. I would have loved it at a differnt point…  part….  pint…

And who knows – maybe I will become that thing I onced wished for myself. Anything is possible, isn’t it? But life is closer to Ancient Greek tragedy than it is Hollywood.

Unpoem

wrote slam poetry in my head all night

psychic paper dirty and smeared.

dribbled soppy love/hate atop

those imaginary hilroy blues

brilliant prose broke forth

like projectile vomit

Unstoppable

wished your ears tickled red

hoped you had an uneasy 2am

prayed you were wise enough to ignore it

Now my coffee-sopped innards rage

like twisters in kansas and tsunamis elsewhere

While i try desperately to revive

those gleaming shards of salvageable material

and fail.

For You-ni-verse

for eyes unseen

silence unheard

For lips unopened

and wounds incurred

For bellies filled

with swallowed air

and vanities satisfied

with undue care

for acts of kindness

gone unreturned

and wise lessons

left unlearned

For hopes dashed

and passions undriven

I beg forgiveness

for not having forgiven

On the Thermodynamics of Hellfire

Some say we, the people, are rational little beings walking around on two legs, unmoved like boulders. If that’s true, I’m the most ridiculous of boulders, because everything moves; it’s like I’m molten. There are no guidelines to follow. No street signs, no traffic code, not even the laws of thermodynamics apply here. This is lawlessness made rock. Made frog in my throat. Choking up the passageways like too many words in mid tumble. Makes me cry like an elephant at a roadside funeral. I should soak myself in iodine and jump into a pool of cotton balls. I should get healed. (As if someone, something could do it for me). I should climb into an industrial sized garbage bag (perforated) filled with echinecea leaves (dried) and then jump into a vat of hot water (boiled). I should practice cynicism, and be stoic. I should leave Dionysus alone, relegate him back to lonely mount Olympus where he belongs; leave him to his soiled libations undisturbed.

But I want to make sense of this. I want to squeeze it between my fingers like crushed grapes, or ground slugs. I want it to speak to me, and tell me where I’ve gone wrong. I want it to jangle around and make noise like a mariachi band. I want it to sing ballads in the name of lost heroes. I want it to tell me all the alternate endings for stories that were never begun. I want it to teach me something. But instead, I’m Tantalus, wading through swamps of meaning, as dream interpretation books float by. If I were a butterfly, i’d crawl back into the genie’s lamp. (He’s got a hookah in there somewhere.)  I’d fly into the flame, preferring brilliance to whatever this is.

The values of higher education

Scene: Discrimination and the Law in Canada. Course given at unammed University in Montreal.

Prof: Quebec Canadian Judge, presiding.

Subject matter: Harassment/discrimination.

Prof: I had one case come before me, in which a woman filed a complaint against a mechanic because he had put up a poster of a woman in a tiny little bikini on his office wall.

random bursts of giggling swirl like wind through tall grass throughout the class.

Prof: (smiling) “Well, you know, some poeple feel uncomfortable with things like that, it’s important not only to be objective, but subjective too.”

(Girl raises hand) Prof, pointing to girl, “Yes”

Girl: “If it were a picture of George Clooney, would it be the same if the situation was reversed? If it were a picture of George Clooney, on a woman’s office wall ?”

Prof: “every situation is different, you see.”

My hand shoots up, Prof looks over, nods.

Me: “IT’s not just that it’s a picture of someone. If it were a picture of a fully clad Julia Roberts, it probably wouldn’t be offensive. If it were a picture of a sharp-looking George Clooney looking good in a suit, that would also not be offensive.” (white guy behind me pipes up, speaking over me, challenging: “that would make me uncomfortable!”) Now if it were a picture of a chippendale, nude on a sandy beach but for a barely-there g-string it would be different.

White guy behind me, gelled hair, tight black t-shirt: “Whatever, so what if it’s a girl in a bikini?! It’s not like she’d totally naked, and what would it matter anyway?”

First speaking girl looks perplexed, intemittently nodding and shaking her head.

The whole class bursts into sharp snippets of speech. People’s heads nodding, shaking uncontrollably.

Prof: “We must always provide for the region in which a complaint is made. This is from Saskatchewan, even a big bikini has a different effect than it would here. Maybe if it were here,, in Montreal, even a g-string would not…. Oh, I don’t know, actually… Anyway, let’s move on to pay equity. Which is that a job mostly performed by women should not be paid less than a job mostly performed by men if it is of equal value.”

Snickering spreads through the class, dying quickly.

Me: (screaming silently inside my head, eyes wide; disbelieving. Checking watch: one more hour of this…)

-Fin-

If you can’t join them, beat them…. I mean, if you can’t beat them….

Btw: finding pictures of lewd male models on beaches is actually surprisingly difficult.  I’m so tired of this society.

Pachabell