Archive for August, 2009

Photoshop Portraits

meeee by Joan Reid

Joan is 26, originally from Centerville NB but now living in Fredericton NB. She is self taught in the realm of photoshop, starting by experimenting with the program 5 years ago. She says she finds that some form of creativity in her life is vital, even if its just for fun. She finds inspiration for her pictures everywhere, from Archie comics to Magritte. This year some of her work was on display at the Dooryard Arts Festival in Woodstock, New Brunswick. Some of which is on display here below. She takes photographs of her friends and with photoshops turns them into paint-like portraits.

christopherdavid_sunglasses_by_joanreidemily_stencil_by_joanreiderin_big_eyes_by_joanreiderin_pink_dress_by_joanreidkeyhole_emily_by_joanreidoops_by_joanreidsab_fuzzies_by_joanreidsara_jane_sunshine_by_joanreidthosegirls-copywilsdicktracy

Silly Rabbit, Thoughts Are For Kids

mary by Mary Andow

My previous essay entitled “What’s in a thought?” has received criticism from a writer so I thought I would take a few moments to respond. When I first sat down to write my response I did a paragraph by paragraph ‘rebuttal of the rebuttal’ so to speak. Upon having my draft reviewed however, it came to my attention that I had done the exact same review of Matthew Flanagan’s piece that he had done of mine. Besides being far too long, I had failed to offer the reader a solid thesis statement or logical conclusion. I believe Flanagan’s criticism of my piece does the same; in absence of a thesis to suggest otherwise, I believe Flanagan has accidentally written a piece that supports my statements rather than refuting them.

What I understand to be one of Flanagan’s major issues with my statements is that they lack moral grounding. I did, however, ask my reader to put morality aside since I believe it has no place in this argument. That is not to say that I am anti-morals; it is actually quite the opposite. If I had written the piece to offer a personal opinion, it would be much more closely aligned with Flanagan’s rebuttal than the piece I actually wrote. My personal moralistic values are irrelevant in this discussion, however, which is where I dispute Flanagan.

An example of where I believe Flanagan did more to further my point than refute it arises during his discussion of accidental morality. Flanagan offers an example of this condition when he discusses a person firing a gun into a crowd and accidentally killing a serial rapist – a very immoral act. This and other examples are thought provoking but the bottom line still relates to illegal activity, not morals – present, absent, or otherwise. Would it matter if the shooter had sought out the serial rapist in an attempt to protect the public? No, since he will be going to prison for murder either way. Bottom line, it is the action that is punishable, not the thought.

Furthering my point, Flanagan addresses my biggest failure, which was an incoherent attempt to unlink action from thought. It is true that there is no action without thought; I would never dispute this. I have to stand my ground, however, and conclude (once again) that a person’s motivation should have no place in our criminal system. Flanagan raises a good idea when he states that both bias and intent live in our thoughts. This and the coinciding example again miss (yet further) my point. Whether your house burns because you are forgetful or whether it burns because you are an arsonist does not negate the fact that your house is, indeed, a pile of ashes.

Moving on, Flanagan’s point that to ‘censor,’ to ‘influence,’ and to ‘regulate’ are drastically different concepts is an excellent one. The last two seem especially vital to differentiate. Influence: “the act or power of producing an effect without apparent exertion of force or direct exercise of command.”1 Regulate: “to govern or direct according to rule” or “to bring under the control of law or constituted authority.”2 While I am perfectly okay with the idea that education, advertising and the arts influence me, I think I would protest if they could somehow regulate me. In the same turn, I am opposed to hate crime ‘regulations.’ While Flanagan is correct that ‘censorship’ was a poor word choice, I am not any happier with the outcome when he changes the word to ‘regulate.’

Flanagan’s final statement that I reject hate crime legislation because it censors (or ‘regulates’) a person’s thoughts by ‘telling them who to hate and who not to’ could not be further from the truth. Somehow my point was lost on at least one reader. All together now: “Mary rejects hate crime legislation because the motivation does not change the end outcome.” As for the extreme yet logical conclusion that my article suggested pedophiles should be free to prey on children, I think what Flanagan meant to ask was “Why are you supporting this Nazi policy” of healthcare reform? My response would, of course, be much more polite than Barney Frank.

Despite offering a series of ideas that refuted my paper point by point, I was unable to find Flanagan’s, well, point. My point is that with all of his theoretical examples, he helped to further my agenda which was that, in a discussion of the legal system, both morals and motivation are irrelevant. These are just my thoughts: sacred to me, but hopefully very (unimportant) to you – especially if you are a judge.

(editor’s note: To avoid a potentially endless back and forth, Mary has decided that any further discourse on the subject from her side will likely do so through the comments section.)

The Essay About Fog: Motivated by Hatred For Fog Around Harbour Cities

johnprairdonby John P. Rairdon

Fog is nothing more than a cloud that touches the ground. A lazy cloud that never moves away from home. Afraid to fly, it’s a cloud too scared to join all its companions in the sky. A cowardly cloud that preys on the fears and superstitions of the people it enshrouds. A vindictive cloud not content to simply shower rain upon the masses as so many other clouds it goes for full contact block attack. It’s a bully cloud standing in front of the television daring us to do something about it.

Or

Fog is a loving cloud embracing the land it with a damp hug. A strong cloud with no fear for man, animal or building. A confident cloud, a brave cloud, that one kid that would run up to the stranger and ask him why he’s using a cane. An innocent cloud, misunderstood by all the people it encounters. A weathered hobo cloud that would talk your ear off if you gave it chance.

To be clear (pun) fog is a cloud like all other clouds. Fog is the name given to a cloud that comes into contact with the ground, like thunder is the name of the sound lightening makes or how liars are called weathermen when put in a suit and shown on television.

There is the existence of one other ground dwelling cloud formation. Mist. Fog and mist have many, many things in common. The only difference between fog and mist is the density and its effect on our visibility. Mist is when this cloud touching earth reduces our visibility to less than 2km. Fog on the other hand fiendishly reduces visibility to less than 1 kilometre, sometimes more than half that of mist. Mist will not be mentioned beyond this point.

Cloud School

Clouds are divided into two general categories. Cumulus and stratus. Cumulus clouds are your lovely, fluffy, tall clouds. Stratus are the long flat gray, layered clouds.

Clouds are then divided into several sub-categories designating the altitude of the formation.

Fog is a member of the Low Clouds or Family C designation. Members of this category are: cumulus, stratocumulus, nimbostratus and stratus. These formations appear from ground level up to 2000m.

Stratus clouds are characterized as gray, dense, boring and wider than tall or flat clouds. A stratus cloud is often the result of rising fog and usually considered to be quite tame not causing rain or snow although in severe cases a stratus cloud has been known to cause drizzle.

A bulk of this document will address clouds as a broad subject however rest assured that the point of this document is to specifically investigate fog that typically enshrouds harbour cities.

Assuming that the definition of fog has been made clear, shall we move on to the origin of clouds?

Clouds begin with water. Water evaporates for whatever reason water has to evaporate. The water vapours move along in the air joyously, lightly and without a care (this is called humidity). It is this carelessness that gets the vapour into trouble. The vapour did not know that the air is not a safe place to be and was not ready for the obstacles that lie ahead. The air has a wide assortment of nasties hanging out in it. During its float about the vapour sometimes runs into one of these nasties called Cloud Condensation Nuclei (CCN). CCNs, sometimes ignorantly referred to as “Cloud Seeds”, are any small solid particle in the air that measures around 0.0002 milimetres. That’s about 1/100th the diametre of an ideal cloud droplet.

When water vapour bumps into one of these CCNs it inadvertently attaches itself to it. It’s just like when your mirror gets foggy after a shower. The vapour got caught on the glass but this is on a smaller yet more devastating scale. Welcome to the jungle.

The water vapour, now attached to the particle, becomes a tiny water droplet usually about 0.02mm. If conditions are right, such as humidity levels being high enough and there being an ample supply of these CCN floating about in the air it doesn’t take long for many particles to bump into enough water vapour until a whole family of droplets is fluttering about in the air. Once a gang of these droplets become visible to the human eye they become a cloud. A raindrop is formed when a cloud droplet accumulates enough water from bumping into more vapour to form a droplet of about 2mm minimum and can no longer fly.

Most of the time this interaction happens high in the atmosphere, far removed from any of our concerns about daily things.

Sometimes the water droplets turn into tiny ice crystals while floating along. It’s a trivial fact for the scope of this report however it may be interesting to note that water has a fantastic adventure through the air. It’s somewhat disturbing to consider that ice is flying above our cars as we do our daily things but has nothing to do with fog.

More about Cloud Condensation Nuclei

Here is where things really heat up. CCN are any small particles in the air for water vapour to condense onto. These particles all have different properties and come from many different sources. Dust from the earth, soot from forest fires and grass fires, soot from human industry, sulfate from volcanoes, salt from sea air, aerosols of all kinds and other items.

In the oceans Phytoplankton release dimethyl sulfides which get converted into sulphates (salt water and other chemicals in air all help in the conversion. It’s all natural). Planktons are a very large contributor of the Earth’s oxygen and a substantial producer of CCNs but will never be as glamourous as the Red Woods.

It has been recently discovered that when under stress kelp will release iodine which gets converted into a CCN into the air (again, the conversion is a mystery but I like to think it’s about the same as when a high school student goes through first year of university). “Stress” could be uncomfortable temperatures or polluted waters or something as simple as low tide. Some aspects of university life may in fact offer ways to cope with that stress.

With each CCN being unique this means that some particles may be larger than others and some may be more efficient at collecting water than others. Salt for example is hydro something, something (hygroscopic), it attracts water to it. That makes it excel at forming water droplets out of thin air. Other particles such as soot from factories and some minerals are typically too large to form cloud droplets yet they are ideal as Ice Nuclei. It’s the same thing only in colder climates.

OK. Is the interconnectedness getting to be too much? There’s more.

Global Warming

There is a theory that was written in ‘87 called the CLAW hypothesis. It suggests that as global warming occurs, more plankton will grow. The plankton will produce more dimethyl sulfides which get converted into sulfates which helps more clouds form which protects and cools the earth. The idea is a negative feedback loop. The worse something gets the more the cure works to fix it. This would be positive and possibly control global warming. Fog saves the day. Nothing has been proven.

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A few years ago Mr. Lovelock, (The ‘L’ in CLAW) wrote a book called “The Revenge of Gaia” in it he has changed his mind about CLAW, he now proposes the anti-CLAW. His new suggestions are that as water temperatures rise the nutrients of the ocean go deeper into the colder water. The plankton, a near surface dweller will starve and the globe gets hotter, probably exponentially. You don’t love me like you used to do. Nothing can be proven.

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More About Kelp:

fog3 Kelp grows is forests in shallow ocean waters. It prefers a temperature of less than 20C and grows very fast. Some species grow almost 0.5 metres in one day under favourable conditions. Starting in 2007 there has been concern that global warming will damage kelp forests. The world was afraid of kelp dying. Here’s a quote:

“If you search for “global warming and kelp” on the internet, you will find 65,000 websites with almost nothing but bad news for kelp forests thanks to the many horrors of global warming. The story told repeatedly is that global warming will cripple kelp because the underwater forest grows in areas of the world with cold water and cannot survive or reproduce in waters above 68°F.”
-http://www.worldclimatereport.com/index.php/2007/02/27/concern-for-kelp-crippled/

This quote is from a site that claims the concern is overrated and that kelp crops are in little danger. The joke is that a search from google for “global warming and kelp” brings this exact site as the top result. (as of December 2008)

OK, so according to these guys kelp is stronger than we thought and it doesn’t mind the heat, so to speak and continues to grow.

As mentioned earlier, new research suggests that when under stress kelp will emit iodine that eventually gets converted into a CCN (“C’mon just try it once. Once never hurt nobody”) increasing the likelihood of cloud formation and usually fog along coastal regions.

On one hand global warming may be heating the water and kelp may die. On the other hand that warm water is melting ancient ice raising tide levels making kelp more comfortable. Both scenarios could result in less iodine being produced. In theory. There is not enough research in the area. Or I’m not working hard enough to find it. Lower levels of CCNs on coastal regions could threaten the formation of fog in those regions. God save the fog.

Not all kelp species display this behaviour and the same species has behaved differently in different parts of the world.

The weekend warrior’s dilemma.

Nature is not the only contributor to cloud forming CCNs. Humans have a great impact on their environment, as we already should know. Power plants, pulp and paper mills, oil refineries, tire fires, afternoon rush hour, my sons 50cc Honda minibike all produce various amounts of particles that could easily convince water vapour to hang out and form cloud droplets.

One doesn’t need proof or cited sources to know that rain will more often occur on Saturday than on Monday. We often want to believe its bad luck or a curse but consider another possibility: all week humans are working and driving and cooking and burning things, producing CCNs all week that eventually accumulate so many water droplets that the clouds can’t hold them turning into rain on the weekend. When these particles aren’t raining on the weekend they are facilitating the formation of fog all week.

The Point:

Each of these causes and contributors are all related to making fog. But I’ve neglected to mention one important fact: the recipe for old-fashioned, homestyle fog is water vapour, Cloud Causing Nulcei, and temperature. There is a fair amount of meteorological science involving dewpoints and humidity etc. It’s a sliding scale.

In the best cases, when humidity is really high (100%) and the temperature is just right (within 2.5C of dewpoint) vapour turns into droplets who attach themselves to CCNs. That’s all well and good and usually results in fog forming in the mornings around watery places.

But that’s not all. Throw in some jean jacket wearing, moisture grubbing salt particles from splashing ocean waves and the angry kelp iodine deposits and it’s possible to get fog at humidities as low as 70% in the middle of the fricken afternoon. Coastal California could talk your ear off for hours about this phenomenon. So could Newfoundland.

The foggiest place on earth is the Grand Banks off the coast of Newfoundland where the cold Labrador Current smacks into the warm Gulf Stream.

Other coastal regions of Newfoundland and California aren’t much better off with an average of 200 foggy days each year.

Now consider the fact that many large cities are built around a harbour with all sorts of fossil fuel burning machines and factories and splashing waves and farting kelp and there’s no way to escape fog.

Fog happens in many places at many different, yet common, times of the year but it cannot be denied that tossing a coin gives you better odds than hoping for San Francisco to be a clear day. Harbour cities are always being smothered by fog.

Is there anybody who gets excited about London weather?

Has anyone ever been glad to take that 6 hour drive in the summer to Halifax only to see a veritable dome of gloom covering the city as they approach?

Can people really like fog?

Doing a search on google for the phrase “fog is good for” would suggest that some people do.

“Fog is good for”…brought to you by Google!

The NFLD Memorial University actually has a webpage specifically about fog entitled “Fog is good for your complexion.” The article doesn’t go on to explain its title but it offers ways to cope with fog and possible positives.

Further searching reveals that Kim Boyd Bermingham from the San Francisco based website sfkids.org compiled a list of 13 reasons why she loves fog. Highlights include:

-fog being good for complexion expanding on Memorial University by saying that the sunshine in L.A. makes woman look leathery
-redwood trees love fog therefore so does she
-” it’s really very, very difficult to get heat stroke, heat rash, and other nasty heat-related maladies when you are shrouded in protective fog”
- and that fog horns “rock”.

The list is targeting a children audience citing fog’s resemblance to cotton candy etc. however some points are optimistic. Nobody wants to argue against the great Red Woods but a definite lack of “heat”, “heat” and more “heat” seems to imply cold weather.

Browsing further into the google results one finds that fire suppression experts have been working on and using a water-fog system that saturates the air in a building that is on fire with water vapour making it difficult for smoke to travel and continue to burn. Museums prefer the system as it does much less damage to the artwork on display; in some cases there is nearly zero smoke damage. Naturally the system needs to be installed as any other sprinkler system would be: before a fire happens. In most cases, however the water fog system is not 100% effective in extinguishing fires but it aids tremendously in slowly the fire down while firefighters do their work. Hardly a natural source of fog it still makes a good name for the cloud. Tim Horton’s used to use glass rooms to control their smoke problems. Perhaps fog “zones” could be next.

Nine Inch Nails recently released a free for download album of instrumental music that one reviewer really connected with while driving in fog. The album is called “Ghosts”. Who really cares about a Nine Inch Nails album that they had to give away because it reminded people of crappy weather? That blogger did. The real question for this point is: “Who really cares about bloggers?”

OK! Here’s a result that really brings home the bacon! There is a fog water collecting system made of a large plastic net suspended on tall telephone poles. When fog passes through it water is collected and runs down the net to a collecting trough. The water is then stored in a reservoir or barrels. This simple system of water collection means nothing to even the most affluent of hobbyists but has been a life saver and time saver for villages in Nepal. These villages live in high altitudes far from water sources. Before these nets came along people, often women, were required to walk for hours to a water source and then carry water up hill but since these devices can produce 1-2 thousand litres of water in 1 day the women have more time to do other things around the village such as nag their husbands about living so damn far from a water source.

One major problem with the system is that fog only occurs half the year. Thus, stockpiling water becomes a very real problem. Of course the nets will produce enough water during the foggy months but will there be enough barrels, bottles, tubs and pails to store it all for the summer? When the nets aren’t collecting water from fog droplets, they are hard at work collecting dust, dirt and bugs from the dry summers. This results in the first few fog harvests after summer in being very dusty, dirty and buggy. That’s a big problem because many of the net implementations are somewhat primitive which risks dirty water getting put right into last season’s clean water buckets spoiling the water reserves. It’s a relatively new system (about 10 years old) and improvements are always being considered.

The bad: More hits (no pun) from a search engine

At its worst fog is a very dangerous weather condition. Humans often underestimate fog. Or more likely overestimate their ability to see things they can’t see when moving at great velocity while inside a fog cloud.

Aircraft have a difficult time landing in fog and accidents are often caused by misjudgment. As a pilot flies over the fog, he can see the landing strip. Fog is a stratus cloud, much wider than it is tall, so the pilot is peering through the thinnest part of the cloud. Upon approach for landing his view point has changed and he’s now staring deep, diagonally into the fog. Visibility is much, much worse than the fly over lead him to believe, but it’s too late he’s committed and cocky and attempts the landing. The results can be devastating. He may even crack those wicked sunglasses his girlfriend bought him and people could die.

Fortunately air traffic controllers prohibit operations within fog and as long as everyone is following the rules nobody gets hurt. But that means that your grandmother is left sitting in that airport while your plane waits for the fog to clear. Airports are small-talk hell.

Drivers of automobiles are in a class of their own when it comes to stupid, pseudo heroism while coping with fog. Drivers are often not wise enough to slow down in accordance to their loss of visibility. Many drivers will tail-gate other vehicles who may be trying to drive defensively. It’s this loss of sensibility and common sense that can result in a phenomenon known as the “multi-car pileup”. Fog has been around many multi-car pileups. To say that fog was the ’cause’ of them all would be arrogant. Humans were the cause because they failed to heed to the dangers. See chart.

fog5 99 vehicles, 200 vehicles, 300 cars!? Accidents happen. Was this because of fog? Most of those pile-ups didn’t cause as many deaths as they did property damage and they weren’t in harbour towns. People from harbour towns know fog. They have to drive in it every day or at least 200 days a year.

Ok, take a breath. That really is bad so here’s something that is more silly:

The Bermuda Triangle. You know about it, I know about it. One man, Bruce Gernon, who claims to have been the only man to see how the triangle works thinks he really knows about it. He has a theory he calls “electronic fog”. Really simply it’s a fog that attaches to the plane you are flying and follows you the whole way. Like that dust cloud that followed Pigpen or that rain cloud that gets you in Mario Kart. This is preposterous, of course, because everyone already knows that there is no land in the sky and therefore no fog. What a wacko. (http://www.electronicfog.com/)

So that’s enough of the negative ninny results.

Here is a pretty picture taken during fog of the Golden Gate Bridge.

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Study the picture for a second.

Notice how the shadow of the tower is, like, standing beside the bridge? The shadow appears to be floating there like a ghost. That is a fog shadow; a marvelous thing to encounter, a 3-d shadow cast on a curtain of fog. There are a million pictures of the GGB covered in fog.

Four more short paragraphs and you can go home.

Fog is a cloud. Clouds are water floating in air. Water hitched to a piece of dirt. That dirt comes from plants, animals, the earth and seas.

Clouds provide rain water on weekends, protect our skin from harmful sun rays, and reflects a bit of heat from the sun.

Nobody knows what effect global warming, if it exists at all, will have on clouds, fog and plankton.

Fog gives life to people and fog takes life away. I guess in the end fog doesn’t feel love nor hatred. It’s just a cloud. A cloud that will never look like a bunny and will always ruin a summer barbecue. And if you are the kind to hang your laundry out to dry, fog will make it wetter than when you started.

End.

Go home.

You Gotta do What you Feel is Real

guitarplaying by Isaac Thompson

Art is important.

I would argue that art is as crucial as mathematics and sciences in our understanding of ourselves and the world around us. In other words, it isn’t merely important, it’s necessary. It’s how we wrestle our intangible experiences and emotions (hate, love, anger, joy, longing, fear et al.) to the ground and share them.

Scientists could write (and probably have written) a million peer reviewed studies about love, but could they ever convey the magnitude of the experience as profoundly as William Shakespeare did when he sat down and wrote Romeo and Juliet?

Think about your favourite band or musician. The one you’ve spent hours alone listening to, studying every lyric, and worshiping every note. There is an exchange going on there. Whether they like it or not, the artist is sharing every hope or fear they’ve ever had. They are giving you a glimpse of their soul, all its faults and virtues. They might not say it in plain terms, and a casual listener might no pick up on it, but it’s there. It lives and breathes in the groves of the record (or these days in the digital code of the mp3… I feel wrong just typing that.).

I’ve been an avid fan of music for so long that I’ve built up an ever-growing arsenal and armoury. It’s better than a therapist, it’s better than a diary. Whatever the experience good or bad, there’s a song that will help me express that feeling. More than that, it will help me compartmentalize the feeling and relate it to another human being. That’s where the exchange comes in. When you listen to an album or (especially) when you see a musician at a live show, you and the artist are relating to each other. You’re reporting the reality of the human condition to each other. I’m sure you can think of a million times a simple three-minute-long-ditty has changed the way you carry yourself, the way you think and the way you interact with the world.

This same magic works for all art forms. That’s the beauty of expression. Art is healing. It’s a teacher, an entertainer, a confidant, a security blanket. It can mean anything to anyone. Everyone benefits from it, we’re wired to create it, we’re wired to appreciate it, and we’ve done it for as long as we’ve been around. It can challenge our minds and our belief systems, It can make (and has made) real change in our society.

The River Valley Arts Alliance is a collection of New Brunswick artists with heaps of talent, passion and vision. They recently put together an amazing arts festival, the first of its kind in Woodstock New Brunswick. It was a great success and it looks like the Dooryard Arts Festival is going to be an annual event. I was lucky enough to take part in the festival, singing a few songs with my dad’s rock and roll band The Debarker Boys.

I’m posting our rendition of “New Orleans is Sinking” by The Tragically Hip, a band who has always meant a lot to me. I had a blast playing that song and I’m already planning a way to weasel into next years Dooryard Festival.

Craig Layton: Halifax Film Maker and Photographer

aug-18-0111 Photos by Craig Layton.

As an artist, Craig Layton continues to grow and explore the use of film and Video as a means to generate social commentary with his thought provoking subject matter and unique visual style. Recently he has made the transition to still photography and immersed himself into the underbelly world of Fashion. He has been involved and made contributions to Halifax Magazine; Faces Magazine and the international www.thursdaynightmagazine.com. To date, he has made eight films holding five producer credits and has made his directorial debut with his 2003 35mm short “Dress Up”. This series of pictures includes shots from various spots around Halifax Nova Scotia, including The Halifax Gay Pride Parade, Halifax Harbour, The Freedom of the city and Halifax model Laura Nurse.

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lighthousewindowhill

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Comments Now Enabled

Just wanted to give you all a heads up that comments are now enabled on the site. To prevent spam, you must be a registered user to post. Registration, of course, is free. You can register by clicking the Register link in the User Center to the right of this post.

The stuff dreams are made of

reading-a-book by Jason Wilson

Thank you to everyone who has sent in pieces and content to the site. More will come in the next few days, weeks and months. So if you haven’t seen your stuff here yet, it will make it on soon. I just want to space it out so I don’t splash it all and am left wondering what the hell to do next.

We have expanded the front page to include 10 entries at a time instead of 5. This way anyone visiting the site will be able to peruse what is here for some time without changing pages. Just to make it easier for you of course.

Also, comments will be operational in the next day or so. All we ask is that you provide your full name because anonymous comments are what make the internet more like a public bathroom stall. If you are critical, have the presence of mind to be up front about it. If you offer praise I am sure the writer/musician/photographer/etc. would like to know where it is coming from. All comments will be put up for approval to avoid spam and anonymous dreck that doesn’t serve a purpose. The contributors use their actual names, so should the commentors.

Updates have come fairly regularly this week with a new post each day. I will take the weekend off from publishing anything but next week I’ll figure out which days to regularly post. Unless of course a ton of new content comes flooding in every day and I have enough that daily updates are feasible. Also, for those of you interested in contributing, I would like it if you provided a picture and a brief write-up for the eventual profiles page.

Have a great weekend, go see Inglourious Basterds in theatres and send Unfiltered Smoke your creative output!

Jason (ratedargh@gmail.com)

When Robotic Philosopher Kings Become Mechanical John Rambos

mattjonesby Matt Jones

As a child in the 80’s, I was privy to some very seminal pop culture that is just now beginning to be recycled into films and videogames. I watched every episode of He-Man, I learned life lessons from G.I. Joe (like not to hide in an abandoned refrigerator) and I had the Ghostbusters replica Proton-Pack (though I lacked a ghost trap, and to this day harbour fantasies of rigging a guitar effects pedal into one).

None of them really affected me like Transformers did, though. Something about vehicles that transformed into giant robots appealed to me. Perhaps it was that while He-Man took place on a different world, Ghostbusters dealt with an alternate world where ghosts were everywhere and G.I. Joe was just a simple military fantasy, Transformers were just what they said: robots in disguise.

How could I be sure that my family’s Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera wasn’t turning into a robot and fighting other cars turned robots while I slept at night? I’d never see a ghost and I never lived anywhere where war was an issue, but there were vehicles everywhere and all of them, in my mind, were potential robots.

optimus-prime-8

Obviously, it’s odd to be so affected by a 30 minute toy commercial, but I was. I never paid attention in church, but I absorbed the lessons that Optimus Prime taught me. “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.” Damn right. Optimus Prime was a reluctant warrior, the William Wallace of the Transformers. He fought to defend people, but was at heart a peaceful being. He was, well he was damn near a robot Jesus.

Optimus Prime died for our sins. And it was one of the pivotal moments to which I can point in my childhood and see the loss of my innocence. When I rented the 1986 Transformers movie on a family vacation in Newfoundland, it was like watching a family member die (and turn grey for some reason). Of course, while it only took Jesus three days to return to life, it took Prime an entire season’s worth of episodes, but it mattered not. Our saviour had returned.

So obviously, when Michael Bay’s 2007 Transformers movie came out, I was interested to see where he would take the characters. And despite some problems (chief among them the human to robot ratio), it wasn’t a bad movie. Most of the important characters were pretty true to form and, even if the designs were so busy it was hard to tell them apart sometimes, it was a fun, nostalgic trip to watch these characters of my childhood fight it out on a giant theatre screen.

(I would be chagrined if I didn’t point out, however, that Michael Bay’s Optimus Prime is a piss-poor military strategist. His plan was to save the world by having the boy destroy him and the Allspark cube. In other words, his plan was to piss off the Decepticons immensely, while also killing the only Autobot capable of defending the earth from them. Just put the damn thing in Jazz, it’s not like he was anything but cannon fodder. I digress…)

The important thing was that, in spite of whatever problems the movie had, Michael Bay for the most part got the spirit of the characters right in his first outing.

In this year’s Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, however, the robotic philosopher king became a 50 foot mechanical Frank Castle. In the very first scene of the movie, Prime shoots an incapacitated Decepticon point-blank in the face. From there, he goes on to have some incredibly bad-ass fighting scenes. And that’s fine, Prime is a great warrior. But it troubled me throughout the rest of the movie. Prime isn’t an executioner.

The Optimus Prime I grew up with would never do that. In the heat of battle, or given no other options, Prime would do what was necessary- I’m not saying that Prime should be like Batman and never kill. But, uh…Demolisher (I had to look up his name) was completely crippled. Prime didn’t kill him in the heat of battle, he murdered him in cold blood.

What’s more, he’s spouting ominous promises that “The Fallen shall rise again.” Wouldn’t it make more sense to interrogate him? Find out what that whole Fallen business is about? Again, the movie’s Optimus Prime leaves much to be desired in terms of strategy.

The point is that somewhere between Transformers and Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, Michael Bay (or whichever writer is responsible for this) completely lost their sense of who Optimus Prime is as a character and why he does what he does.

And in a movie that’s been described as, at best “outrageous, stupid fun” and at worst “mildly better than **censored**ting your pants” (in Topless Robot’s rundown of the movie which lists complaints in far more detail than I’m capable of), that’s not the sort of characterization problems you can afford. Optimus Prime executing a prisoner is one of those things that fans will look back on like nipples on the batsuit: a clear indication that the filmmakers either don’t understand or don’t give a **censored** that they’re contributing to characters that fans love deeply.

I’m not going to tell you that Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is a terrible movie. I will tell you it’s a fun, albeit incredibly stupid movie. But frankly, after all the far-more intelligently written and more satisfying blockbusters that have come out since the first movie (Iron Man, The Dark Knight, Star Trek, to name a few) I’m surprised that is the case.

I only hope that the financial success of Revenge of the Fallen doesn’t give Hollywood the idea that fans will gladly lap up any crap with loud explosions in it. The Dark Knight, in particular, was a very intelligently written, dense and psychological film. Sure, it had those same big explosions, but they made sure the set them up so that they made the most impact. Similar praise could be offered to Iron Man and Star Trek in how they managed the balance between good action and good filmmaking. I hope that distinction isn’t lost on future filmmakers.

As for me, I believe I’ll look into getting the first season of the classic Transformers series at some point in the near future. The animation and storylines may not hold up as well today, but at least I’ll be able to remember the Optimus Prime of my youth; that great robot thinker who knew that with “a little energon and a lot of luck” that we would all pull through.

Critical Response to ‘What’s in a Thought’

flanagan by Matthew Flanagan

Mary Andow’s op-ed piece on hate crimes, though thought inspiring, was unfortunately misguided on all of its major points. Ms. Andow begins with an analogy about two men in a church giving alms and questions whether the thoughts behind our actions truly matter.

She  ultimately concludes that it is unimportant because both alms (one being from a god fearing man the other from one looking to fill his tax quota) ended up helping people. This is, I assume, an abbreviated example of utilitarian ethics which argues that so long as the outcome of an action increases pleasure said action was ethical. Mary Andow’s conclusion here is that regardless of what we were thinking when we act our actions can be considered good. This conclusion is erroneous. Two conditions must be met for an action to be regarded as either moral or immoral. First, the action itself must be an act of free will. Slaves have no morality because they have no free will and thus their actions are not their own. Second, and more important in this context, is that the action itself must have good intent behind it.

It should be noted here that the man giving alms because god said so has not committed a moral act, rather, he has obeyed another will (the will of god) and for his action to truly be moral he ought to donate the $20 because he knew it to be the right thing to do. Ms. Andow’s approach to this situation opens the door for accidental morality. If I give money to a friend in hopes that he purchases heroin and becomes an addict but this friend in actuality uses this money to feed the hungry, have I done something good? Certainly not. While the outcome of my action (the feeding of the hungry) was fortunate it is certainly not what I willed. Similarly, if a person blindly fires a gun into a crowd of people but accidentally only kills a serial rapist this person shouldn’t be applauded for committing a just act, since the very thought behind the act contained no trace of good will.

Ms. Andow later attempts to lump all criminal offences in with hate crimes by inferring that all crimes are in fact motivated by hate. This is certainly far from the truth. Most crimes are motivated by necessity, perceived or otherwise, and we find their roots in a class system that imposes suffering and toil on the majority and allows for luxury and decadence for an elite minority. Drug trafficking and car theft are two easy examples of crimes that have no founding in hatred at all (certainly a car thief has no hatred for the car he steals). While it might be convenient and practical for bourgeois society to assume that crime would disappear once hatred did this is certainly not true. Hate or no hate people will still always do what they perceive is necessary for them to survive and flourish.

Perhaps the most misguided portion of Ms. Andow’s op-ed was her failed attempt to unlink action from thought. Action cannot be separated from thought. An action is the concrete actuality of a thought. Without thought there is no action and thus our legal system must compensate for this. Similarly, attempting to separate thought, intent and bias from each other is a mistake. Bias and intent are a part of thought, there is no other human faculty where they could exist. If I have a bias towards someone it is because I think, not the other way around. It should be reiterated here that thought and motivation do matter with regards to our actions. If I leave the stove on when I go to work and my house burns down I am forgetful. However, if I leave the stove on and go to work because I want to burn my house down and collect the insurance money I am an arsonist.

The climax of Ms. Andow’s article suggests that punishing people for hate crimes stands perilously close to censoring thought. First, our society is not free but for drastically different reasons than the ones stated by Ms. Andow. Second it must be noted with a sense of irony that in a piece where the writer dismisses the importance of thought they also go on to champion it as sacred. Further, it must be noted that the word “censor” and “influence” or “regulate” are drastically different. We do not censor thought. For an example of how to censor thought one ought to read Orwell’s 1984. We do, however, regulate and influence thought and speech quite often. Education, advertising and even the arts are examples of things used to influence our thoughts and I do not believe Ms. Andow opposes these. Though the use of hate crime punishments may in some indirect way target people’s thoughts I hardly think this is effective. What it truly aims at is coercing people who would commit acts of hate from doing so. This is true of any punishment (punishment is inherently coercive). Murderers are put in jail partly because they need to be taken off the streets and partly because jailing criminals is one way to prevent further crime. Punishment as a crime prevention technique is admittedly ineffective but Ms. Andow’s piece was not about the effectiveness of hate crime punishments but of how just they were.

In the article Ms. Andow invokes the legendary “slippery slope” argument as a means of protesting the existence of hate crimes. While this argument is usually more show than substance it is insightful when one applies it to Ms. Andow’s own argument. Ms. Andow rejects hate crime legislation because it can censor peoples thoughts by telling them who to hate and who not to. Ms. Andow’s argument, taken to its extreme but logical conclusion, advocates the abolishment of all punishment. Pedophiles would be allowed to walk the street because punishing them would be telling people how to think and thus an attack on our sacred (yet unimportant) thought.

Songs From The Station Agents

profile-picture by Billy Fong

Billy lived a majority of his life in Port Coquitlam in beautiful British Columbia, but moved to Fredericton, New Brunswick in 2001.  He has since relocated again to Toronto, Ontario.

While in Fredericton he played various venues in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia opening for likes of Bedouin Soundclash, Troy MacGillivray, the Hupman Bros. and more.  He has recorded two full length albums, Coffee&LostHearts (2005) and his most recent release The Station Agents (2009).  The Station Agents was a self titled album of songs written by Billy and performed with his band of the same name.  Unfortunately due to Billy relocating to Toronto, the band had to break up and played their final Fredericton show in April at Boom! Nightclub.

Billy has a BA with majors in journalism and communications and is about to start work as a production assistant on the set of a new TV show being shot in Toronto.  He is also a screenwriter and has written several screenplays.  He is currently working on a children’s film called “Feathers”.

The Station Agents – Fire By Night

The Station Agents – Going Home

The Station Agents – The Interstate

Writers at Work in the Deep Dark Woods

by Jason Wilson

Isaac Thompson and I have been working on a novel together since last November. “Welcome to Oak Grove” is our first attempt at something as daunting as a book. Isaac has co-written two plays (Play of the Living Dead and The Slasher Play) and has dabbled in filmmaking. He also sang for the bands The Search For Alexander and Tattered Black Dress.

On my end I’ve written mostly journalism or opinion pieces. I’ve written short stories that have never seen the light of day but nothing as big as this. So far we are excited with what we’ve come up with.

It’s a small town horror story set in the fake New Brunswick town Oak Grove. Everything seems normal on the surface, but the underbelly of the town hosts a malevolent being set on torturing the townsfolk under the guise of leading them to salvation.

For inspiration, Isaac and I have gone to a cabin in Knowlesville, New Brunswick. Knowlesville is a tiny place that is mostly covered in woods. The roads are dirt and difficult to traverse, especially in my tiny Volkswagen (Rocinante). For two nights on two separate occasions we have travelled there to edit and write and it has been a fantastic experience. While we don’t yet have an excerpt to share, we do have a series of photographs I took on both trips. They’re mostly of the cabin interior as well as a small cemetary and some trails around the area as well. Enjoy!
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The Dyke March and Gay Pride Parade

by Tom Henheffer

Cocks were a-flappin’ and fake tits a-bouncin’ as the old naked men jogged, the transvestites bore all and the lesbians rode their motorcycles at Toronto’s annual Dyke March and Gay Pride Parade. The audience of tens of thousands toughed it out through rain and shine to near overdose on flamboyance as every colour of the rainbow cheered and danced its way down Yonge street. The streets, bars and businesses of Church Wellesley village (colloquially known as gay village) came alive for pride week’s finale parades; and the love that dare not speak its name was shouted from the rooftops while everyone from BDSM-gear clad leather daddy’s to politicians like Jack Layton and Elizabeth May turned out to join in the grand gala of gayness.

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6:52

colinby Colin Davis

He was still awake when the sun came over the horizon. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands supporting his chin, his eyes staring out the window. The hotel room was empty, if you forgot that it was fully furnished. Empty, in that there was no one else but him there anymore. She had left hours ago.
“I’ll call you a cab,” he had offered. She picked her purse up off the floor and told him not to worry about it. Her hair needed to be combed, and her dress was wrinkled.

He said goodbye when she opened the door, but she didn’t look back.
They first met five years ago. They were coworkers, and both in long term relationships. Lunch in the staff room turned into sharing a ride to and from work. Exchanging cell numbers lead to dinner once in awhile.
‘Just friends,’ he said when his girlfriend got suspicious. And they were. Just friends.
She changed jobs, and travelled a lot. It was two years before they spoke again. She was in town for a week, and wanted to catch up. He divorced his now-wife one month later.
They had had dinner, too much wine, and she looked him in the eye too much. Her place.
Their relationship was always temporary. Sometimes for three days, sometimes a month, but always temporary. He never knew when to expect her, and usually didn’t know when she would be leaving. He never asked.
Tonight she had told him she couldn’t keep doing this. She didn’t have to tell him she wouldn’t be back again.
He closed the blinds, and the room was as dark as it had been when she left. Her voice mail picked up when he called her cell phone. There wasn’t anything to say, so he hung up before the beep.
He wanted to tell her that he couldn’t keep doing this either, that he wanted to be with her all of the time instead of a couple of times a year. He really wanted to say that he loved her.
But he couldn’t.

Inside he knew that it was better this way, for both of them. He left his wife for her. Given up everything, anything that he needed too.

She hadn’t asked for anything from him, but had taken so much.

Tonight she took the only thing he had looked forward to for the last three years.
It was his own fault, he hadn’t given her any reason to stay. If he could have said the things he felt, it might have been different.
In the mini-bar he found what was left of the bottle of Tequila they had bought the night before. He finished it, not noticing the burn.
He laid down on the bed, and closed his eyes, the bottle still in his hands, though it was empty.
Closing his eyes didn’t bring sleep, so he got up again. He dressed, and left the hotel.
He squinted in the morning sun, as he stepped outside. The doorman was staring at him.
There was a building across the street that had a large electronic sign on the side of it. The sign listed temperatures and times, and advertisements. It said the time was 6:52 AM.

Still time to get ready for work. He hailed a taxi and after a few minutes was on his way to his apartment.
The cabby talked about something. He wasn’t listening. He looked out the window but didn’t see anything.

The problem was he thought he would be bothered more. He had imagined how he would react to a situation like this, and his imagination hadn’t considered that he would be this…empty. That was it, he was empty. Maybe that was worse than being heartbroken.
Maybe it was worse to know that he had spent these last years with someone he hadn’t even really cared for after all. Or maybe he was still numb from the tequila.
“That’s the funny thing about this city, no matter where you are you can always get a hotdog,” the cabdriver said.
He glanced at the driver, shook his head then went back to looking out the window.

It didn’t make any sense to him. His life for the last 3 years was about her. And yet he hadn’t cried, hadn’t screamed, hadn’t thought about killing himself. Hadn’t thought anything. The biggest thing he had on his mind now was getting showered and ready for work.
In the sky overhead there was a plane gaining altitude. Her plane, he knew.

And that was it. She was gone, he moved on. He went to work that day, and didn’t think of her again. It was better that way. For both of them.

What’s in a Thought?

europe-2007-100by Mary Andow

Two men walk into a church, sit down, and put $20 each into the collection plate. The first man donates because God says it is good to give. The second man donates to reach his charitable giving quota for the 2009 taxation year. Many people will look favourably upon the first man and pass judgment on the second. Morals aside, however, does it matter why we give? More importantly, does it matter what we think during the actions we take?

Most atrocities throughout history have been related to one social group’s hate for another group. With this in mind, several countries have begun defining the term ‘hate crime’ and passing subsequent legislation. Hate crimes (also called bias-motivated crimes) are just that – crimes committed against victims of a certain social group. Crimes motivated by distaste for a victim’s sexual orientation, religion, or racial group are common, although the bias could extend to hundred’s of possibilities. Section 718.2 of the Criminal Code of Canada addresses the punishment of offenders as it relates to their motivation for the crime. This section states that a sentence can be increased if there is “evidence that the offence was motivated by bias, prejudice or hate based on race, national or ethnic origin, language, colour, religion, sex, age, mental or physical disability, sexual orientation, or any other similar factor.”

It is a brave soul who would argue against hate crime legislation, especially in the context noted above. That being said, the legislation of hate crimes requires a critical examination of its core notion. Many would argue that any violent crime is a hate crime. If a man murders his wife to be with his mistress is that less punishable than a man who murders his wife because she is gay? According to Canada’s Criminal Code, it is. The outcome and the tragedy are the same, but the crime is different. Why? The slippery slope that is the censorship of thought.

It requires asking then, what’s in a thought? Are we truly a free society when an action punishable by law can be related to our thoughts and motivations? Shouldn’t a thought just be a thought, and an action simply an action? Does it matter what motivates people? Does it matter what people think? For the most part it does not. Murder is murder, assault is assault, and a crime is a crime. It is at this point where people start shouting: ‘but intent DOES matter,’ and those people would be correct. If a woman accidentally injures a child who runs in front of her car is she a criminal? No. That is an accident. It is critical to differentiate ‘intent’ from ‘bias’ however, which is what many will fail do in the hate crime argument. For either of the murders mentioned above, both require intent to kill but only one is a bias-related crime. It seems that intent is a critical factor in our justice system, but what does adding bias to the equation achieve? Not much it would seem.

With this in mind, do we really require different classes of crimes? An attempt to censor how people think teeters on dangerous ground. Despite good intentions, it is imperative that the government remember the importance of freedom of speech, and more critically, the freedom of thought. Canadian legislation must put morals aside when it comes to the rational hand of the law. Prosecuting individuals based on their thoughts and ideas may be okay in a society that works towards the forces of good, but what happens when the question of right and wrong becomes grey? Keeping personal thoughts separate from the law and allowing complete freedom in this realm is essential. Personal thoughts are sacred and must be protected at all costs.

The full $40 that the two men donated to the church helped feed hungry children in the community. Both donations worked towards the betterment of society despite vastly differing motivations. Sometimes a punch is just a punch, and one $20 bill is just as good as the next.

The Painter

girl-carrying-girlby Jody Coughlin

To fully understand my method, as a painter, you must first translate the rush that comes with the encounter of some type of nemesis into some form of sensory pleasure. You have to feel a sudden crunching and hacking away at your heels and somehow you have to believe that it feels good. You have to feel a destructive force coming at you.

Then, you have to stop yourself dead in your tracks…in your own virtue trap, greed lust, shadow dweller desires. You have to turn and face it, head-on. You have to fight it. You have to win. Whatever it is that propels you forward is ultimately attached to whatever holds you back. Overcoming that barrier is the trick. It is where all the fun lies. In that instant, it is where the magic happens.

I make a grand gesture, inside my head, heart, and soul. I make a step, forced like a child strapped to a large elastic tether. I leap ahead knowing I will be snapped back even further behind than before I moved at all. I know I am deliberately hurting myself, just a little, but it is a useful pain; a productive pain like childbirth or the removing of a bullet from a space between your bones. It just has to come out, that is all there is to it. That is all I know.

I take that step and then take that fall and when I do I tumble a little bit ahead-just a bit but it is enough and my blood rushes to the very outer sphere of my brain and I feel a lightening sensation where pain usually resides. My memories are forgivable, my smile is suddenly sincere. I am alive because I have stretched everything I know past the self imposed limits. It is all about the expression of the inner self.

This process of self-learning, self-teaching is what keeps me going. Day after day. It all happens in my mind, in an instant, undetected by the outside world. Power of change forces its way through the canyons and crevices in my brain and then that power translates down into my body, my arm, my brush. It all happens in the first few strokes. The painting begins to take form. My heart soars.

I know that pain and joy are linked to one source and that source is behind my eyes, inside my soul. It is where I am going. It is where I have been. My life is connected, my mind is unique, my power is idiosyncratic. My ability is strong and real.

I put my mind to the test, I draw my drink from some mysterious inner source and then, with every ounce of faith that is allotted to one person, I make my mark on this world. I create because someone created me and that is the connection, the thing that helps me to know that I am alive, now, in this moment.

This is how it feels for me, when I paint. When I meet the canvas face to face, when I arrive at that blank white space I realize that there can be nothing there between myself and it but truth. Nothing I can conjure up through artificial means will work. The canvas will wait. It will let me twist and turn in every conceivable way until I am ready to let the energy flow. Usually, it happens. Usually.

In the end, I have a painting that will either connect with a viewer somewhere, somehow. Or, it will sit in my closet collecting dust. There are no guarantees. No hard and fast rules leading to success. Just the work and the work is the life. The life of a painter, that is. My life.