this is a drawing of the round table meeting at the carfac national face to face in ottowa

Self Portrait - Top View, Self Portrait - Top View Schema

Here's a guy to look up to....

Pictured here: Stephan Massicotte

From my less grandious series tentatively titled "Good People, Bad Nothing", Mr.Massicotte is a wonderful man. He works at a home for people with disabilities, and is also a landlord., and to top it all off, he's Rene's cousin!

He enjoys running, playing guitar, smiling and joking.

As you may have guessed, fame isn't one of the criteria in this series, unless you consider the honor and pride I post this man's visage, and then I guess he's famous beyond words. He has a good heart, he's genuine and wise beyond his years.

For those of you that have met him, you know what I'm talking about. What do you think?

From the Archives: Agonisar

yet another reason...

this here is bob dylan and allen ginsberg sitting at jack kerouac's grave.

i think kerouac is the prime example of what ren called the "sad" aspect of the whole addiction/consumption thing.

in his youth, a star athlete-- the running back for columbia university's football team, and in the merchant navy in WW II. ridiculously handsome and well-spoken.

after a shaky first novel, he hits his stride, and in full druggie/drinking mode, writes "on the road" and "the dharma bums", which i don't think is an overstatement to call two of the more important american novels ever written.

and then, a long slow descent into self-destruction. there's an interview he did with the french CBC (his first language was french) about 6 months before his death, where he's just a foolish, babbling drunk guy. if you compare it with his first TV appearance, on the steve allen show shortly after "on the road" comes out, the difference is shocking. from a handsome, introspective guy with a powerful artistic vision to a loud, obnoxious drunk stumbling over his own words.

if i died (which i will eventually, of course), and someone wanted to do this w/ me-- do the "l-blizz wasn't a saint", i can give reams of info to support that theory.

these "fallen" heroes, like the rest of us, are complex. i merely offer this series as a counterpoint to the hero-worship and mythologizing that these types of figures are sometimes subject to. i think all of us are wise enough to be able to see past the public figure and recognize the complexities, but it's interesting food for thought nevertheless.

i call it the "great art, bad choices" series. maybe next is the "bad art, great choices" series? hee hee hee...

more reasons...

josey and i had a good chuckle about this one yesterday, in add'n to some even worse images of mr. keith richards in which he's younger, but somehow manages to look even worse.

ouch.

this seems to be some sort of photo-realist painting, though.

Up the Main and Down the Main

There are bikes everywhere in the city.
Locked to trees, locked to meters, locked to benches.
clinking and clanking, like chained prisoners
sometimes only a forlorn tire, or a bike with a twisted frame
and people pass them by.
Smoked chicken wafts and settles
Cars buzz, the drone of our industrial age
Satellite dishes on all the rooftops, peering out and peering in
The bricked buildings stagger down the Main.
Sitting on his doorstep, admiring the near miss of pigeon shit
Next to Simcha's and Moishes, I draw the actions and reactions.
Another sunny and peopled day on the Main.
Looking up the Main, and looking down the Main
There are dogs everywhere in the city
Barking, mauling, leashed and free
gangly dogs, bulldogs,
dogs with sweaters and dogs on dogs
dogs climbing stairs, exchanging glares
fecund doggie parks rank with springtime thaw
Look up the Main, and looking down the Main

reasons not to emulate the lives of yr heroes, part 2

The Head of Medusa, by Carvaggio--

if you don't know much about caravggio, he was the jim morrison of his day. a great painter beyond belief, but also a drinker, gambler, etc. was banished from several cities, had people wanting to kill him over debts and other stuff, and died at 38 in a drunken knife fight in the streets of florence.

This work is often thought to be a self-portrait, painted looking in a mirror.

Pictoral reasons why not to emulate all of your heroes-- #1 in an ongoing series

as the title indicates, this is #1 of an ongoing series that will give pictoral representations of why it's not always a great idea to model your lifestyle after people whose art you may like.

this here is charles bukowski.

Babaji

PICT0067, originally uploaded by The Stranger.

Well the Bhudda boy from Nepal has disapeared. He was seen travelling south. Im pretty sure he's Babaji and that Ive seen him periodically through this Journey. Because Ive put forth the intent to find him.

So yesterday I was walking down beside the Ganga and I was thinking about all these things and I looked over and there was this holy dude kind of looking like Marley sitting there with this grin reading loudly from some holy book. Then I went home ate a few meals, read a few books, recorded some songs, listened to music, went on the internet and thought about a million thoughts. Then I went walking back down the Ganga and there was Bababaji still reading in the same spot in exactly the same way with all these cows around him! So I asked to take his picture but as you can see Babaji doesn't turn up on film because he doesn't really have a material body anymore.

Green Vision

PICT0025, originally uploaded by The Stranger.

Whoah, Jah told me to take it easy today from the yoga. I had been taking 3 classes a day. Truly Yoga is great. But today I was walking down beside the Ganga at 5 oclock in the morning and I felt a queesiness in my belly akin perhaps to what the mustachioed dude is feeling in this image. So I returned to my temple and did toilet Yoga for the rest of the day before passing out. Now Im back with a new change of gear to tell you what I've remembered.

The Greatest proof of devine comes from the awareness of the synchronicity inherent in the personal mythology.

The Teacher is truly on the inside. When I reflect on my own works, my own words and songs, I see the humble one who although sometimes loud and contradictory is patiently involved in the lifelong task of enlightening itself.

I made the puzzle for myself to figure out. And I already know the answer!

And the answer cannot be expressed in word or thought.

Last Fall in Parc Lafontaine

I think alot of people must like taking pictures in this park. 

Be I

Be I, by Barnett Newman, not to be confused w/ Be Is or IsBe

couche du soleil en Parc Lafontaine

From the Archives: Last-Minute Cycle Jihad

Serious

Serious

Ombre

Doorway Pigeon

Rooftop Pigeon

The Woman I belong to

popes hill, originally uploaded by The Stranger.

My woman is rich in gold
She is a celestial woman
She is adorned with gems and pearls.
She works miracles with fire and rain
My woman is adorned with the Cobra.

Medicine Woman

So long...

Our little dude Jean-Luc died tonight.
He wasn't well; I knew it was coming. I just thought that I'd have put him down before nature took its course.

In some way though, I'm relieved that it was nature who claimed him in the end.


Life is every day, it's every breath.
-Damon Mitch

Push my friend, push

Whenever you feel tired
do twenty push-ups

Before you hit the ground
rage

And if and when you give up
you have caught love

And if it pushes back
absorb

Elegantly and softly
there is no doubt

Push my friend, push

4:16 a.m., times keep changing

Temptation is great and
horrible to be in it
like a position

that we want or seek or that
we want to give up
like smoking or

whatever.


Play a song about our funerals
i shouted to the band tonight,
bar crowded and dirty with
bodies and
the reek of flesh and
temptation

play a song about our funerals
all of us
about the time when we'll be dead and
this will all be a
memory

or simply forgotten.


Play a song about that
or sit the fuck down

and old god ike
playing blues, nodded and smiled
under his hat that
hid his lidded eyes and

pulled heavy on the note, strong

a song

about all our funerals

an ikos, by ike--
or at least that's how it felt.

so good, it was so
sad and
stirring and
across the bar someone
or other
wanted desperately to
meet someone's eyes when

all the bluesman kept saying

over and

over was


you darn fools

you're all gonna die. And he

hit the note on, right on and
slid with it

old god ike
friday nite and

josey is 26.

The color of amber memories

from the dusty peaks
of my greatest virtues
to the old clothes on my back.

absent for the worst of times
yet mysteriously present
for all the best of no regrets.

friendship keeps my poor bones warm
in the shadow of the vally below.

Nax

Birdie

Reach

26!

Happy Birthday Josey!! Thanks for being the good guy that you are....and for nerding out with me academia-style on a regular basis.

Other notable mentions regarding this fine day...
- 130 years ago on this day, the first discernible speech is transmitted over a telephone system when inventor Alexander Graham Bell summons his assistant in another room. The words that marked the beginnings of the interconnected world as we know it? "Mr. Watson, come here; I want you."

- Ferdinand I, German emperor from 1558 to 1564, is born in 1503.

- 0241 -BC- Battle of Aegusa: Roman fleet sinks 50 Carthagean ships

further poetic musings

this is the lyrics (these are the lyrics?) for a song i've been obsessed with lately-- first for the music, now for the words.

it's "throwing off glass" by the tragically hip, and i think it speaks for itself in terms of what a brilliant songwriter gord downie is.



"Why is the world so creepy?" she asked
after a car full of haircuts drove past
a backseat full of 'the boys'

I told her that "It isn't...
that...that it's exquisite
but like love, it has it's barbarous threats"

still in spite of the cads
and the stoop-shouldered teens
I know I'm losing you
and I know what that means, yeah

I told her that it isn't
that it's real exquisite
but like love, it can have it's
stubbed-toe effects

and just like after she heard
the word 'irridescent'
and everything was irridescent for awhile,
it wasn't long
before she exhalted out of nowhere,
'Isn't this exquisite?!'
Isn't it?


Once you've said 'hmmm' in unison
and 'oh' in double surprise
and shared relief with a mutual 'phew'
and a look in each others' eyes

I tell her that is isn't
insisted that it isn't
because like love
it has too-cunning effects
I told her that it isn't
that it's just exquisite
because like love it has
it's barbarous threats

'Why is the world so creepy?' she asked
after a car full of haircuts drove past
a backseat full of the boys
breaking glass
throwing off glass.

Not long now....

The dilating has begun, we're talking weeks here people!

The Wheel Club

Montreal's oldest running country jam...While I was there a 76 year old woman played four songs!

When the muck bucket hit the scene they greeted it with smiles and country sunshine.

A Painting by John "Lew Dite" Parsons

John's place is like a museum. He's retired, a painter, and a skiffle musician. He went through aperiod of painting chairs in his paintings, to the point where people knew him as that 'chair' painter. Most of his work is in acrylic, the chair is based on one he saw in France. The trees are painted very heavily, the stripes appear as grooves. He has a wide range of interests. He collects art, music, and odd musical instruments.

A Poem (After the Black Book)

Dost thine eyes recoil?

Wait, for her arm curls in anger

Hold

Thine face is ripe with the mortal blow

Recoil

She hast driven the spike of cupids lust for thou

Dost thine eyes recoil?
Dost her smell waft easily into the pool of red be specklement that was once your yobbish flame?

Nay, for thine is the Heart that never heals
Thine is the vagabond of legend.

For the post that hast whipped many a maiden into frenzy lies dormant

Still

En Passant

Women Weak!

Another Roadside Romance(from my black book)

Get the lighting right
and put the music on
let wild hearts roam
to another one night stand

soft velvet sweet embrace
and a touch of sun
through the window pane
rise well a new day

can I bend the truth
with these lines of mine
turn the shade of lonliness
and imagine it was divine

I might whisper your name
save for fear of a mistake

all part of a woman's week #3

I’m a sobbing milky mess
With out you
Cherub screaming menace
Resisting
The moment
You
Escaped me
Too early
Full of battlescars
To brag about only
One minute old
But
Still hold
My hand.

all part of a woman's week #2

I walk
through
frozen feather soft
past
to remember

love notes
end notes
A hand reaching over to touch
wetness
alphabet love
inscriptions
sought out
second chances
drifting

All part of a woman's week #1

The rage inside me
exploding
the
slow and measured sips
tasting
lukewarm
scalding
when I hurled
it at you

Movement

a forgotten wind chime
swims in the breeze
echoes of spring
and small sweet gifts

as i, tearing out
all the centuries
with a little drop
of patient poision

what great light
of life this is
more water please
pass under this bridge

made by my own legs on this a day
with one sea foot still in my grave

Visions

In disrespecting
the body, you damage
the soul

Unions are tied
to essences hinged
to holy seas

The boat has a leak
the boat has a leak

And it is only
with faith in cleansing
that the journey will
be safe, otherwise
you will die, otherwise
the memory, the memory
that must be respected and
caressed with the gifts that
you give up and the touch
that hides you

Legends of the Snow Lion

PICT0020, originally uploaded by The Stranger.

This image must be connected with the previous story but as yet this historian cannot explain it. It would seem as if the Great Cat has taken a pause from devouring the hero to whisper something to some mysterious girl. What does this all mean?

In Rishikesh theres no booze, no eggs, no meat. And all the cheese and milk is giving me the runs.
Last night as I mentioned I saw a cow give birth.
I visited the beatles ashram.
War is breaking out.
The Dalai Lama was too tired to come out to see me and maybe it was because he was as hung over as I was on Old Monk Rum.
My socks are very dirty and I may have to throw them in the garbage.
A monkey made a weird face at me.

How are all these things connected?
Where is the synchronis line?

Maybe this line of poetry givin to me as Mantra by the great spirit guide Babaji will help me to solve this enigma.

Oh let me go home dancing on a tightrope. Wearing Supermans shoes Im a rebel with a new hope. Remembering what Dog told me from the burning bush. Now is the time to arise. Wipe the golden tears from your mothers eyes. Run from the tidal wave. Now you ve only got one way to survive and thats to dive right in.

Ive decided to entitle mY life

The great golden feathered serpant hardcore tour part 56 limited collectors edition editors cut

Trees

Serpentine dreams among
golden barns of wonder
and the wisdom spins
tracking forward
the memory of great
wells and living faith
to know that even
the trees die

Visions

It is time to stop the spiral
of desire

It is time to stop the visions
of melee

It is time to stop the clouds
that glisten

It is time to learn the inside
of be

and reach towards signals

Inside is the answer
Inside is the answer
Inside is the answer

Legends of the Snow Lion

PICT0027, originally uploaded by The Stranger.

Here we see the Smoky Tiger devouring the still twitching body of Sam the Simple (the artist formerly known as Dug the Strange).

In this great depiction of a famous arcane legend the mustachioded mortal Sam the Simple has offered his physical body as sacrifice to the great Tiger God in return for the fullfillment of all desires. Namely, money, hot sex, great international fame, garunteed immortality in the heavenly abode, devine musical skill, superhuman physical strength endurance and dexterity not to mention charisma, intoxication, and very good style.

After the Holy Tiger was done devouring all these things were fulfilled.

The moral of the story is,

IN ORDER TO BE REBORN INTO A GREATER LIFE YOU MUST ACCEPT DEATH

The pleasure is my soul's communion with yours

Miraculous vision of Babaji

PICT0015, originally uploaded by The Stranger.

Last night I had a vision of Babaji and he spoke these wordsË

"Everyone in Heaven is a Hobo.
Rishikesh the abode of saints and sages. The greatest bliss of all is the supreme bliss of the self. And service to that self elicits bliss. I saw a cow give birth last night in the street. Just me and the cow and the moon and then a couple minutes later it was me and the cow and the moon and also another smaller bloodier cow. Auspicious like crazy. I visited the Beatles ashram today where those Fab GodKings pilgramaged to meet the GodKing Maharishi. Now it s a massive derilect ruin. Most things here are derilect, holy hobos, cows, monkeys, people dressed all in white, other people dressed all in red. Jewels sarees dreadlocks cricket, terrorism, mantras yantras tantras the Ganga.

Whoa have you guys read the news lately? Terror in Veranasi verz close to here. As soon as I left Kashmir that place went into chaos. And That s some pretty gnarly rhetoric being tossed around between Tehran and Washington.

Here I boldy stand on my head about to pass through the gateway to the Abode of Gods. PegCity Manitoba. My splash here in the Ganga will be nothing compared to the dip in that most holy of forks.

They the Lion and the Tiger are two faces of a coin. I will toss them when I get tot he meeting of the red and assinaboinene."

Miriam Toews' Sense of Winnipeg

Robert Enright's Sense of Winnipeg

5 more Cyrus Smith steps

5 Steps to Surviving Someone Else’s Art Opening:

Step 1: Always make sure there is someone watching you watch the art.

Step 2: Critique only those who are criticizing.

Step 3: To live is to learn. Eat the food sitting out before its temperature reaches the “danger zone”.

Step 4: BYOB. A brown bag is a must!

Step 5: When you are no longer making eye contact it should mean you have left the event.

5 steps to... also by Cyrus

5 Steps to Surviving Your Own Art Opening:

Step 1: Never stand right next to your work.

Step 2: Avoid talking until there is a crowd around you.

Step 3: Remain sober until you are drunk.

Step 4: Always make sure you watch those watching the art.

Step 5: Congratulate everyone who congratulates you.

5 steps to 5 steps, by someone i don't know, who is funny

5 steps to 5 steps

1- conceive and be aware of lower extremities

2- grapple with the nature of gravity

3-visualize and attempt the forward movement of the leg (moving forward from the hip)

4- prepare oneself for progression and the balanced landing of the individual foot

5-repeat steps 1-4 four more times

available periodically for frivolity

yours truly,

ashley paul mario william brasca

More 5 steps, from Cyrus Smith

5 Steps to Surviving a Blank Canvas:

Step 1: Appreciate what you have when you start with nothing.

Step 2: It is not always you.

Step 3: Rome was not built in a day, but they must have begun somewhere. MAKE A MARK!!!!!

Step 4: Do you play chess? React to what you do.

Step 5: You can always leave it blank, but that’s been done.

Portrait of me (Macri) by a stranger. She also did the one below. 

...and then I never saw her again.