a little while …

you know what would be great? if these two asian dudes sitting across from me would shut the fuck up.

i don’t write. i get high and ignite.

what i do:

what i dream about:

and finding forrester is on the tv.
what more could i ask for?
a mug of tea.
the end.

***aside: postsecret has been sucking in the past few weeks.

i was looking through pictures of the demonstration against the beit hanoun murders by israeli forces and other demonstrations on activestill’s flickr and came across this picture (click to see higher res).
that’s a stenciled drawing of leila khaled, a former guerilla with the PFLP, now a member of the seemingly dormant Palestinian National Council.

here’s an article that appeared in the guardian in 2001, an interview conducted 30 years after recounting her infamous 1969 hijacking of TWA Flight 840.
lina makboul, a swedish-palestinian journalist, interviewed here, released a documentary this year called leila khaled – hijacker. i haven’t seen it yet, but when i find it, i’ll make it available here.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attentions please, kindly fasten your seat belts. This is your new Captain speaking. The Che Guevara commando unit of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine…”

24 year old Leila Khaled had just completed her first hijacking and at the same time she became the first woman ever to hijack an airplane.

check it out, norman finkelstein’s book, beyond chutzpah, can’t be found on amazon.com ..
so i searched amazon.ca, to see if there’d be a difference, and it shows up as the first hit in a search for his name.
does stuff like this happen a lot, i wonder?

i’ve been struggling with an insatiable appetite for music lately, regardless of genre or reputation or review; sourced mainly from okayplayer, pitchfork, paul irish’s music blog, irc (#chilledbeats on efnet) and a whole bunch of other places that due to their transience i’ve totally forgotten.
i’m even going into the past, digging up releases i never listened to when i probably should have.
like last night, for instance, i was going through some old back to mine and latenightales compilations and stumbled upon ex-skateboarder tommy guerrero’s “another late night” released in 2002. his mixing style totally transforms my recent spout with lee hazlewood-esque melancholy (see air’s recent latenighttales release) into a contentment i can only get through teleportation, prompting me to find out what tommy guerrero’s been doing lately … turns out he released an album this year some time in august called from the soil to the soul full of the funk i expect but with more of a hip-hop feel than i ever remember him dabbling with. how can i say no to an album featuring such song titles as “war no more”, “no guns more glory” and “molotov telegram”?
as much as these two albums make me feel i could just walk outside, shirtless with a corona in hand and a soccer ball at my feet, the sad fact is that my playlist has at least 3 scandinavian albums waiting to be listened to.

here’s some music:
latin playboys – same brown earth (tommy guerrero anotherlatenight mix)
hampton hawes – web (tommy guerrero anotherlatenight mix)
tommy guerrero – molotov telegram
tommy guerrero – no guns more glory

i may be drunk and i can’t really read, but i know that this is good news

good work doug, i <3 u.

on the verge of falling asleep, i’ve finally stumbled into an explanation for my inability to relate to other people and the legacy of failure that grows and growwsssssss as a result.
of course it never comes off as failure.
excessive chatter or conversational comedy is a social skill.
when a shrug or grin or ear-to-ear smile would more than suffice, an entire dramatic performance is paraded replete with a grab-bag of hysterical laughter, feigned concern, or wild gesticulations beckoning the use of a menagerie of muscles that would otherwise have remained dormant while forcing tears at your own mother’s funeral.
it’s a kind of licensed dishonesty, but who doesn’t need to do it?
when it comes to masking, i’m formulaic and uni-dimensional. my exaggerated facade is linear; the more i try to hide, the funnier i seem to get. my humour is a manifestation of the effort it takes for me to keep things unsaid.
being a comedian has the double effect of keeping my feelings concealed, while simultaneously allowing me to benefit from the honest joy i see in others. and knowing how to do it so well, spotting it gets to be pretty easy.

but these are things i already knew. the part of it all i only now realized was that managing the dishonesty in others is so much easier when i’m actively siphoning laughter with my humour. i unintentionally fuel the cycle.
it’s obvious. in situations where comedy is entirely inappropriate i’m a land-locked ship; that guy forcibly trying to make jokes at the scene of a murder-suicide.

i wonder though, what things would be like if, on occassion, i just burped out words which, in an awkward explosion of relief, made things just a little more interesting.