Closet lesbian and awkward boyfriend

Closet lesbian and awkward boyfriend

bedroom teachers for morning lovers

backyard blues on the random days

magic markers and vineyard thinkers

coffee shop homosexual discussions

shirtless summer, under-over, rediscover

Aimless greyhound wanderings

Ageless, wonderless, backwardness

Nameless, ghostless, spiritless, religion

Godless, wonderful universe of despair

Hourless, timeless clock for hobos on codeine and heroine

I don't do drugs screamed the poet

I don't smoke pot yelled the politician

I don't fuck innocent jerks intoned the judge

I don't believe in justice whispered the prisoner

I don't live lies managed to write the circus clown

I am not here to sing sang the singer

Wine induced spirit quest

Follow the leader into the forest

horses horses horses

Country car ride America

Makes no sense, makes no sense, makes no sense

Hollow shell of a man

Hollow speech of a life

bound to disappear

Blockbuster movie

instant happy, coffee happy, caffeine happy, happy happy

Marked man like batman, superman, and wonderwoman

Quintet composed of coltran, dylan, mega man, me and pac man

Mid-90s sad grunge rock and contemporary hip-hop

Track listings of a cassette tape passed from upper brother Dave

Colorful vista of foreign media

Chinese rockabilly of impossibility

French-Man in English-land conquered from Indian

Last scream of hollowed empty man

L'Acadie des highway pis d'la ville

Ju tanné des villages pis d'la mer.
La Péninsule c'est vidée 
Le monde rêve de bateau et d'étoile éloignée
Parle de pêche et de poisson pogné
Garç de bois, fille de cabane
De ch'min de terre à ch'min de fer.
Un ch'min fort qui est fière

Le sud s'est remplie
Dieppe, L'Acadie des banlieues.
Conduire sur la transcanadienne de Moncton à Montréal
Le Plateau, étoile de l'Acadie.
Les Leblancs d'Ottawa
Les Thériault d'Toronto
Le pêcheur urbain
Le fermiers des jardins
L'explorateurs des quartiers
Le hippie du marchés

La déportations c'est fini
Construction réussi
Wkyscrapers Acadien
Les Anglais, mes voisins
Su les swamps du coude
Ont s'est toutes réunis

Ju tanné des gossips de village
des histoires de marriages
des lendemains de veilles magané
les voisins étonnées
les cheveux perms tout curler
La Sagouine est passé
dépasser, expiré

Mon Acadie, la rivière
Mud river, ville de bière
ville de nuit, ville de rêve
ville de grunge, ville de gay
ville de punk, ville d'été
ville maison, ville highway

An ode to everything

An ode to everything, for everything is, in the darkest of times, no never alone, only yourself and everything else, the most that there ever was, the most that there is,the most that there will, the most of my will. Alll of myself, verses for everything, for life is a fight, a fight we can't win, a fight to remember, a life celebration, a fight of lovers that are lovers forever, a love for the spirit, the spirit of all, and the spirits that were and the spirits that will be. An ode to myself, since I am a part, I may not have begotten, what I have got, but I am myself and all that is not, I am myself, the parts and the parcels. An ode to Scotland, the scotch and the whisky, the wines, and the beer and the spirit. An ode, oh, my friends, an ode to distance, the internet, cheese and baklava and bread. An ode to singing, at night, in the dark, naked and listening to Beethoven that's all. The beetles and Buddha, Muhammad, Obama, Confucius and Snoopy, an ode to them all. The suns and the guns, my cloths and my cock, for coffee and cola, for the love of it all. An ode to Jesus, which repeats after all, for thousands of years, the best god of all. Explosions Hazaah, the great sextasy, and the lesser pleasures, like shitting and pee. An ode to it all, the majestic feelings, the deepest sorrows, of cats and of dogs, of horses and boars, dejection and more and more and more, ad infinitum.

Hello!!

My stuff keeps getting hacked. Fuck the Internet.

I Am Not One of Don Cherry’s Good Old Canadian Boys

I have nothing against Don Cherry’s good old Canadian boys, but they are not like me. Most of them grew up on farms in Northern Ontario or the prairies. Don Cherry’s good old Canadian boys like fighting and drinking. They have a strong sense of belonging to a group. They like the military and could have worked in construction. They are never Asian, Black or Latino. Don Cherry’s good old Canadian boys are probably pretty good people, and I admire how they are good hockey players willing to dedicate themselves completely to the group, but they are not like me. I never liked Gilmour or Clark, my favourites are Kovalev and Subban, players who play with style and skills, rather than grit and determination. I think that Europeans have a lot of qualities that are worth emulating and we should look towards them for guidance, at least as much as we look at Americans. I don’t think that Russians lack heart or passion, or anything else for that matter. And the French are my cousins, even if they are arrogant, they are family. Don Cherry’s good old Canadian boys are rarely from Quebec, although I once spent some time with dairy farmers in Coaticook, Quebec. People there were fatter than me, they wore “casquettes” at the rinks, they ate poutine and played hockey. I think Don Cherry would have liked them, they were simple people, good people, but they were different from me. As a kid, I wanted to play hockey. I was a Canadian boy, but I wasn’t good. I didn’t like to wake up early to go to games and practices. The game bored me very quickly and I didn’t like to put on so much equipment to play a few minutes per period. I didn’t feel comfortable in the arena. My parents were hippies and I think they were glad I didn’t like it. They also thought hockey was expensive and neither of them liked it. Don Cherry’s good old Canadian Boys’ parents will go to great lengths to help their kids play hockey, my parents paid for my university. Good old Canadian boys do not like downtown Montreal and Toronto. Places where people have holes in their skin from various piercings, they do not like the gay village and they do not like colourful turbans and funny accents. Most of my friends have funny accents and, in truth, I probably have one too. Good old Canadian boys work with their hands, and I work with my mind. I would rather outsmart or charm an enemy, than beat him to a pulp I do not think Don Cherry is a great Canadian, and I think he should stop talking about women, because when he does it, it’s bad for the country. I do not like Don Cherry. I don’t like how he thinks that violence is a means to an end. I don’t like his blind support for the troops, regardless of their use or actions. And I don’t like how he has become a hero to our nation, a nation that has become so engrossed in claiming it’s greatness, that it has forgotten how it has gotten there, and how to move forward toward progress. A nation that is so steeped in the comfort of home entertainment systems and backyard barbecues, that a clown can become a national hero. A nation who keeps voting for a government the objects to environmental law, a nation where the rights of some Canadians, are more important than those of others. I dislike Don Cherry, not for who he is, because I don’t know him personally, but for what he stands for, the unwillingness to change our habits and customs, both in hockey and in the nation that loves the game so much.

I have not hustled on this site for a while which is quite a shame. I will try to come back more often. I am now in Beijing where translate the bizarre world of Chinese state-owned enterprises into English. Lately I've been writing a poem for my company. I'll have to post that soon. For now, here are pictures of mountains around Beijing. This is Miaofeng Mountain.

Toronto is a wasteland

I spent most of my weekends two weeks ago taking pictures around town with my friend Lucy (who is actually called Zhangmanyun). It was a glorious time. I'd forgotten how I like taking pictures. I like how you can create a completely different reality out of a small piece of life. It just depends on the frame. I like to zoom in on things to make them appear as they are not.


I feel as though I am in an artistic renaissance after going through the dark ages. I've really found my beat as a part-time artist. I'm doing 1-2 painting a week, and getting some other things in there. This blog is also a nice outlet.

Anyway, Toronto is a nice subject for photography, it's vast and has a lot of diversity. It's the mix that is interesting, in terms of creating a mystique out of a small part of reality, there is quite a deal of reality in this down.