My Favourite Twenty-Five Movies Because Ten Would Be Stupid And Thirty Would Be Fucking Annoying Part Five Of Five


My younger brother and our grandfather; August 13, 2007. Photo by Me.

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“Last one out of Liberty City, burn it to the ground.”
“Last One Out Of Liberty City”, ‘Hello Rockview’; Less Than Jake (1998)

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“A list poem is one of the easiest kinds of poems to write because it doesn’t require either rhythm or rhyme. But that doesn’t mean you should write down anything helter skelter. Here’s a list of elements that makes a list poem a poem instead of just a list:
1) The writer is telling you something–pointing something out–saying, “Look at this” or, “Think about this.”
2) There’s a beginning and an end to it, like in a story.
3) Each item in the list is written the same way.”
“How to Write a “What Bugs Me” List Poem”, by Bruce Lansky (1996)

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“My advice, to anyone willing to listen, is to find a notebook that fits into your pants pocket. Use a pen with a cap so it doesn’t explode in your pocket, and start writing down whatever you can remember. Even if it’s a favourite colour. Then, later, write down why it’s your favourite colour…. and pretty soon you’ve got a list.”
Me.

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The Fifth Five: My Ultimate Twenty Five Movies
This is the fifth, and last, part of a list of my favourite movies. A year after I started treatment for manic depression in November, 2002, I started keeping a journal. A few months after starting I began to make lists of my memories. After nearly eighteen-years surviving untreated my memories had become jumbled and confused. Making lists about movies, embarrassing moments, meals, places I’ve lived among many others proved to be invaluable to my recovery. Each list took a little more power away from the disease and gave me more confidence in myself. After this post there is the second part to the “52 Places I’ve Lived” post and the last list I’m going to share.

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The First Five: Bladerunner (Directors Cut) (1992) (Daryl Hannah, Rutger Hauer); Tora, Tora, Tora (1970); All The Presidents Men (1974) (Robert Redford, Dustin Hoffman); Our Lady of The Assassins (2002); Se7en (1995) (Morgan Freeman, Brad Pitt).

The Second Five: The Americanization of Emily (1964) b/w (James Garner, Julie Andrews); Giant (1956) (Rock Hudson, James Dean, Liz Taylor); The Prophecy (1995) (Christopher Walkin, Eric Stoltz); The Filth And The Fury (2002) (Sex Pistols — doc.); Network (1976) (Peter Finch, Faye Dunaway, Robert Duvall)

The Third Five: Pi (π) (1998) b/w (Sean Gullette, Mark Margolis); Apocalypse Now (Redux) (1979) (Martin Sheen, Marlon Brando, Robert Duvall); The Killing Fields (1984) (Sam Waterston, Haing S. Ngor, Spalding Gray); Cool Hand Luke (1967) (Paul Newman, George Kennedy); Lawrence of Arabia (1962) (Peter O’Toole, Omar Sharif).

The Fourth Five: Run Lola Run (1998) (Franka Potente, Moritz Bleibtreu); Three Days of The Condor (1975) (Robert Redford, Faye Dunaway); City Of Ghosts (2002) (Matt Dillon, James Cahn); Touching The Void (2003) (Joe Simpson, Simon Yates); The Third Man (1949) b/w (Orson Welles, Joseph Cotton).

The Almost Six: Spartan (2004) (Val Kilmer, Derek Luke); The Station Agent (2003) (Peter Dinklage, Bobby Cannavale); The Empire Strikes Back (1980) (Mark Hamil, Carrie Fisher); Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind (2002) (George Clooney, Sam Rockwell); Clerks (1994) b/w (Brian O’Halloran, Jeff Anderson); Mississippi Burning (1988) (Gene Hackman, Willem Dafoe).

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Once Were Warriors (1994) (Rena Owen, Temuera Morrison) Based on a 1990 bestselling novel by New Zealand author Alan Duff this movie is about as close filmmaking has gotten to portraying the kind of abuse and degradation indigenous people have been put through and have put each other through. When an entire people have no hope, no recourse, no defence against the crushing poverty left to them by their colonizers they almost always turn the abuse onto themselves and the people around them. Once Were Warriors deals specifically with New Zealand’s urbanized Māori people and the family abuse, rape, alcoholism, drug abuse and violence which has become almost inherent to their sub-culture. But the movie could have been set in Australia, India or Canada without changing a scene. It is very rare — very rare — to find a well made movie about poverty, this one is at the top of the list in terms of quality and honesty.

The two main characters are “Beth”, a traditional Māori who left home when she was a teenager to marry “Jake”, basically an alcoholic angry young man. They move to a city slum where, over eighteen years, they have five children. The movie is mostly about the relationship between the Māori who have succumbed to the crushing poverty, and those returning to their traditional beliefs and traditions. The acting is spectacular and raw, and very few punches are pulled. Literally. This is a fantastic film, and easily one of my favourites.

Quote One:
Jake Heke: “I’ll
kill you first!”
Beth Heke: “Well go on, do it! You’re still a slave Jake. To your fists. To the drink. To yourself. Well go on – kill the bloody lot of us!”

Quote Two:
Beth Heke: “Our
people once were warriors. But unlike you, Jake, they were people with mana, pride; people with spirit. If my spirit can survive living with you for eighteen years, then I can survive anything.”

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The Great Dictator (1940) (Charlie Chaplin, Paulette Goddard) Charlie Chaplin was a brilliant filmmaker. “The Great Dictator”, released two months before Japan attacked Pearl Harbour and the subsequent entry of America into the Second World War, is possibly the greatest piece of satirical filmmaking ever put on a screen. But it’s target wasn’t Germany’s NAZI politics, the target was the American public who wanted nothing to do with stopping the spread of those ideologies. This is Chaplin’s masterpiece. It’s also his first “Talkie”, and holy Christ does he talk. Weirdly enough, considering how closely related the philosophies of 1950’s Soviet Union were to 1940’s Germany, Chaplin was a fan of communism at the same time he was anti-NAZI. After making this movie, and a few other overtly political movies, Chaplin was labeled as a communist-lite in America. Chaplin was basically chased out of America during the McCarthy witch-hunt, basically because in 1947 Chaplin released a dark satire in the same vein of “The Great Dictator” called “Monsieur Verdoux”, only his target was capitalism. But, if you listen to the speeches in “Dictator” he wasn’t really a communist, he may never have made a film directly attacking the Soviet Union, and he may have wanted America to get into WW2 to fight alongside the Soviet Union and not necessarily to protect the people being put into the ovens — but “Dictator” was about showing political theories, a political theory, in practice. His support of the Soviet Union at the same time seems to me to be about protecting the world from NAZIism, not about promoting Soviet Communism. Besides, “The Great Dictator” trancends any single dictator. The movie could have been about Stalin, Pol Pot, Mugabe, Hussein, Idi Amin…

Garbitsch: “Corona veniat electus.” Victory shall come to the worthy. Today, democracy, liberty, and equality are words to fool the people. No nation can progress with such ideas. They stand in the way of action. Therefore, we frankly abolish them. In the future, each man will serve the interest of the State with absolute obedience. Let him who refuses beware! The rights of citizenship will be taken away from all Jews and other non-Aryans. They are inferior and therefore enemies of the state. It is the duty of all true Aryans to hate and despise them. Henceforth this nation is annexed to the Tomanian Empire, and the people of this nation will obey the laws bestowed upon us by our great leader, the Dictator of Tomania, the conqueror of Osterlich, the future Emperor of the World!”

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The Devil’s Rejects (2005) (Bill Moseley, Sheri Moon) I do believe Rob Zombie, the writer and director of Devil’s Rejects, could be in the top one percent coolest people on the planet. The… lets call it a “prequel” to this movie was “House Of 1000 Corpses” and, mostly, it sucked hard wood. So Rob, thinking of his characters as his children, put together some bucks and a script and — like any good father — came up with The Devil’s Rejects as a way to kill off the main characters from Corpses properly. Ebert & Roeper gave this movie two thumbs up, called it Oscar worthy, then told people not to go see it because — holy fuck — it was that disturbing. This is not “horror porn”. Movies like “Saw” and “Hostel” have no plot and exist only to create new and interesting methods of using a power drill. Those movies have their place, but “The Devil’s Rejects” has a plot, it has excellent acting and it has a back-story. The movie will actually make you feel… something approaching regret, even remorse, when The Firefly Family finally get beat down. Zombie, apparently a huge Marx Brothers fan, has named the family of psychopaths who do most of the killing, after characters from their movies. Zombie — who was also one of the most influential musicians of the 1990’s — has taken over the “Halloween” franchise from John Carpenter and used most of the cast from “The Devil’s Rejects” for the upcoming release. See? He’s so freaking cool he lets us see his wife’s ass and he’s loyal to his friends. The soundtrack was pretty righteous as well.

Captain J.T. Spaulding: What’s the matter, kid? Don’t ya like clowns?
Jamie: [shakes head crying]
Spaulding: “Why? Don’t we make ya laugh? Aren’t we fuckin’ funny? You best come up with an answer, cos I’m gonna come back here and check on you and your momma and if you ain’t got a reason why you hate clowns, I’m gonna kill your whole fucking family.

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The Thing (1982) (Kurt Russell, Wilford Brimley) More than any other movie I can remember from my childhood, this one fucked me up the most. John Carpenter isn’t the godfather of horror, he’s the God of Horror. His brand of horror may be on the sidelines for now, at least until Rob Zombie gets it back in the game, but from 1978 until 1983 Carpenter released Halloween (1978), The Fog (1980), The Thing (1982), and Christine (1983) plus there was the classic They Live (1988). I can remember being twelve and walking home in the middle of the night, in a fog, after watching The Fog at a friends place… that was fucking nuts. But “The Thing”, that was something else. When the severed head grew those spider legs and scuttled off… obviously I was a little young to be watching the movie, and obviously it didn’t fuck me up that badly as I’m still here, but I’ve never been frightened walking out of another movie since watching The Fog and The Thing. Startled while in a movie, yes. Walking out frightened, no.

MacReady: “I know I’m human. And if you were all these things, then you’d just attack me right now, so some of you are still human. This thing doesn’t want to show itself, it wants to hide inside an imitation. It’ll fight if it has to, but it’s vulnerable out in the open. If it takes us over, then it has no more enemies, nobody left to kill it. And then it’s won.”

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Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (Wo hu cang long) (2000) (Yun-Fat Chow, Michelle Yeoh) The first movie since Star Wars to make me think I was watching something actually magical. I saw it the first night it played in Toronto. I had seen the preview and read a review but otherwise had no clue what I was about to see. The first few minutes really pissed me off, not because of the movie, but because people were laughing at the movie. No one in the theatre knew how to react to the special effects, and there was nervous laughter coming from everywhere. Until “Crouching” every movie from China actually came from Hong Kong and either had bad dubbing or Bruce Lee, and the ones which were really made in China all had smiling tweens and teens wearing red scarves gleefully denouncing the landlords. China has been going through an identity crisis since about the time of the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre. The country is moving, albeit slowly, away from Communism and is rediscovering its own history as it does so. The fact this movie is set in China and inside Chinese mythology and partially paid for by the Republic is remarkable — “Crouching” was filmed in China, but financed by American, Taiwanese, Hong Kong and Chinese companies, which is equally remarkable considering the relationship between Taiwan and China. When it won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film, the Oscar actually went to Taiwan. Of course “Crouching” was directed by Ang Lee, who was born in Taiwan and only one of the four stars — Ziyi Zhang — was borne inside the continental borders of China. “Crouching” was, and probably still is, the most beautiful film I’ve ever watched.

Quote One:
Jade Fox: “Your
master underestimated women! He’d sleep with me, but he would never teach me. He deserved to die by a woman’s hand.”

Quote Two:
Li Mu Bai: “I’ve
already wasted my whole life. I want to tell you with my last breath that I have always loved you. I would rather be a ghost, drifting by your side as a condemned soul, than enter heaven without you. Because of your love, I will never be a lonely spirit.”

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…since november fourteenth, 2006.

“You burn things when there’s no going back. How much of
yourself have you had to burn away to be
the person you are today? Because baby, my body
is ash and my mind is still smoking.”

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Posted in Bipolar, Bipolar Disease, Bipolar Disorder, crazy people with no pants, Depression, Entertainment, Health, Lithium, Living With Depression, Living With Manic Depression, Manic Depression, Mental Health, Salted Lists | 14 Comments

Totally Inappropriate Salted Humour Day: Introducing The bahLOONatic, A Toy Totally In Need Of A Recall PLUS A Dick Joke

“Billy’s Balloon”; ‘Don Hertzfeldt’

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“The theory of learned helplessness was then extended to human behavior, providing a model for explaining depression, a state characterized by a lack of affect and feeling. Depressed people became that way because they learned to be helpless. Depressed people learned that whatever they did, is futile. During the course of their lives, depressed people apparently learned that they have no control.”
“Learned Helplessness“, Duen Hsi Yen (1998)
[print this out and nail it to your wall]

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“Although we experience the world in bits and pieces, the sequence in which we experience them flows together and we feel the world around us in a continuous panorama. When we try to communicate about it, we have to break it down into bits and pieces. Perhaps a large part of our trouble starts there.”
“Communications: The Transfer of Meaning”, Don Fabun (1968)

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Our Depressions are not always caused by… depressing stuff. Most of our depressions are caused by the Disease. They may feel hopeless, they may feel unrecoverable they may even feel real, but they’re not — there are no reasons necessary for us to be depressed. You have to tell yourself they will not last forever, it will stop, you will get better. You can take away a lot of their power by simply repeating “this isn’t real, this level of depression is totally unwarranted for the situation”… or just “fuck off”.

To prevent them from happening or, at the very least, to decrease their intensity you must use your moments of lucidity to seek and find help. That means finding a professional. If you live in a region where it’s difficult or impossible to just walk into a psychiatrists office and get an appointment — which is pretty much every region — there are always local governmental or non-governmental mental health offices where you can get started in the system.

Even in recovery and receiving treatment, we will continue to have depressions forced on us by the disease. I’m three years into my recovery and I had one just a few months ago, but three years ago I was having ten of them before breakfast. Even this late into a recovery the rare depressive episode can act as a trigger to a “why bother” moment where discarding the pills, or dropping out of treatment, or even considering suicide will seem like options out of a misguided belief the treatments aren’t working if you’re still getting depressed.

Thinking, believing nothing will get better and nothing good will ever happen to you is not new, and it’s not surprising to feel that way. When we look backwards and see nothing but failure and look forward and see nothing but… well, nothing, those depressing visualizations are part of the learned behaviour forced on us by the disease. You’ve been sitting around for twenty years visualizing your death, the death of your friends, your pets, your God, your plants, the poor and devastated people in Rwanda/Somalia/Iraq/Northern China/Finland… well, fuck, try thinking about things you’ve succeeded in. That brunette with the killer smile and little tits you totally banged five freaking times in one day, the diploma, getting to the store last night just before it closed.

Listen, no one really sits around dreaming about their future but because we sit around planning our death for so long we assume dreaming about their futures is something people without the disease do, then we get depressed because when we start our recovery Dreams Of The Future aren’t granted to us by the Get Well Fairy. We have to move one day at a time, this is a long process and we have to concentrate on each step. Just because the journey’s slow doesn’t mean it’s not happening or not worth taking.

And now, a dick joke: my dick is so big, it was overthrown by a military coup. It’s now known as the Democratic Republic of My Dick. I love that one. This one’s pretty good as well: My dick is so big, it has its own dick. And even my dick’s dick is bigger than your dick.

*Some or all of this may have been stolen from a response I left on Experimental Chimps blog sometime around 2am, August 31, 2007. But, in my defence, I was totally hammered on 2% milk and imitation crab meat.

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...thanks.

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Posted in Bipolar, Classic, crazy people with no pants, Depression, Health, Humor, Humour, Inappropriate Humour Day, Lithium, Living With Depression, Living With Manic Depression, Manic Depression, YouTube | Tagged | 6 Comments

My Favourite Twenty-Five Movies Because Ten Would Be Stupid And Thirty Would Be Fucking Annoying Part Four


From my mother’s garden, let me know if you want a large format version for your wall.

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“Last one out of Liberty City, burn it to the ground.”
“Last One Out Of Liberty City”, ‘Hello Rockview’; Less Than Jake (1998)

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“A list poem is one of the easiest kinds of poems to write because it doesn’t require either rhythm or rhyme. But that doesn’t mean you should write down anything helter skelter. Here’s a list of elements that makes a list poem a poem instead of just a list:
1) The writer is telling you something–pointing something out–saying, “Look at this” or, “Think about this.”
2) There’s a beginning and an end to it, like in a story.
3) Each item in the list is written the same way.”
“How to Write a “What Bugs Me” List Poem”, by Bruce Lansky (1996)

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“My advice, to anyone willing to listen, is to find a notebook that fits into your pants pocket. Use a pen with a cap so it doesn’t explode in your pocket, and start writing down whatever you can remember. Even if it’s a favourite colour. Then, later, write down why it’s your favourite colour…. and pretty soon you’ve got a list.”
Me.

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The Fourth Five: My Ultimate Twenty Five Movies
This is the sixth in a series of list posts, and the fourth list of my favourite movies. I’ve also posted a partial list of embarassing moments in my life and the first of two posts on the nearly sixty places I’ve lived. These lists are meant to show the value in writing memories down in our recovery from manic depression. Two years ago, after nearly a year in treatment, I started keeping a journal again. Soon after I began to use it to sort out the memories swirling around in my mind. Living untreated for eighteen years left me confused and vulnerable to the effects of manic depression. Writing down my embarassing moments, for example, took the power out of those memories. It was one less thing the disease could use against me. I have two lists which require one more post each — movies and homes, then I’ll post the last list soon after. 

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Run Lola Run (1998) (Franka Potente, Moritz Bleibtreu) Really hot punk chick running. What more can you ask in a movie. RLR won the 1999 Audience Award from the Sundance Film Festival and could be the only German movie worth watching not set in a submarine. It could also be one of the most upbeat considering the main character only dies once and her boyfriend only dies three times. I could be a little off on the numbers. The first time I watched RLR it was without the benefit of English subtitles. Which, until the first sequence ends, I thought was a total waste of time… again, except for the seriously smoking hot punk chick. But then the movie resets and starts over… then there’s animation, and the camera work is excellent, and even without understanding what’s being said you can understand what’s going on. Basically the main character, Lola, has twenty minutes to raise a wack of cash before her boyfriend robs a grocery store which, in the first version of events, gets him killed. She then gets a few opportunities — seemingly through her will alone — to fix what her boyfriend has broken, and each time the entire movie is slightly different. It really is a brilliant little movie.

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Three Days of The Condor (1975) (Robert Redford, Faye Dunaway) The level of paranoia and mistrust in the American government by Americans during the 1970’s cannot be overstated, it’s reflected very clearly in movies like Three Days. But we watch movies made during the period as entertainment, we forget that movies reflect other times the way movies like Babel and Syriana do today. The biggest difference between then and now, however, is Three Days was a near-masterpiece and Babel and Syriana sucked dog crap off the bottom of a dung beetle’s boot. The main character in Three Days is a reader for the CIA. All he does is read books, then makes a report on them which are then fed into a computer to look for codes. He finds one certain parts of the American government don’t want known. The resulting moment of carnage sees the entire staff in his office slaughtered. But he’s not there. The chase starts when he returns. It would be interesting if people started watched these kind of movies looking for historical lessons which could be taught today. Because, one, the events keep being replayed, and; two the movies like Three Days Of The Condor are vastly superior to the crap made today. It’s also fun to see a period where True Believers still considered the “Media” (aka: The Press) to be above politics. This movie also does a pretty good job in explaining the government’s side as well…

Higgins [FBI Chief]: “It’s simple economics. Today it’s oil, right? In ten or fifteen years, food. Plutonium. Maybe even sooner. Now, what do you think the people are gonna want us to do then?”
Joe Turner [Condor]: “Ask them.”
Higgins: “Not now – then! Ask ’em when they’re running out. Ask ’em when there’s no heat in their homes and they’re cold. Ask ’em when their engines stop. Ask ’em when people who have never known hunger start going hungry. You wanna know something? They won’t want us to ask ’em. They’ll just want us to get it for ’em!”

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City Of Ghosts (2002) (Matt Dillon, James Cahn) A man goes on a quest to find his father. Dillon, who has always been a better actor than the parts he gets, wrote and directed this movie as well as playing the lead. At its core it’s about a father-son thing. They’re essentially conmen, and when an insurance con gets way out of control Dillon leaves New York and makes his way into Cambodia, where his father may or may not be involved in a casino scam. Stellan Skarsgård, Gérard Depardieu and Natascha McElhone filll out the cast… actually Natascha (who starred with Skarsgård in “Ronin”) is the only mistake in the film. The movie is about the two men — Cahn and Dillon, so the Romantic sub-plot never has time to go anywhere, her character Just Is. She’s supposed to be The Redemption but there’s never really any depth given to her. Actually it’s Cambodia that is the real romantic lead. At the end of the movie Dillon stays more for the country and its slow-moving weirdness than Natascha. The soundtrack is spectacular. It’s mostly traditional Cambodian music — which is very moving — but there’s a 1994 track by Beck called “Blackhole” that is just mesmerizing. Personally I’d buy the Soundtrack version, the one on his “Mellow Gold” CD has a hidden track attached to it that’s basically just three minutes of unrelenting feedback.

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Touching The Void (2003) (Joe Simpson, Simon Yates) This is an amazing movie, basically a re-enactment documentary, based on the book by Joe Simpson of the same name. Simpson and Yates are accomplished mountaineers who — in 1985 — were trying to become the first people to scale the west face of Siula Grande in the Peruvian Andes. Which they managed to do. Which was great. But then they got lost on the way back down and there was an accident that left Simpson at the bottom of a crevasse with a leg so insanely shattered the bone in his upper leg actually splintered around his femur. Yates, believing Simpson was dead, continued safely down the mountain. Simpson, believing himself still alive, managed to crawl — on his belly — down the mountain in what must be one of the most incredible survival stories ever told… and it’s all freaking true. Yates actually became a pariah in the mountain climbing community for leaving Simpson on the mountain, but Simpson has always said there was nothing to forgive because Yates — who also came close to dying several times that night — did nothing wrong. Yates and Simpson appear in the dramatic-documentary as interview subjects, but also as stunt doubles for the actors.

Simon Yates: “Rather than just sit here, feeling sorry for myself or whatever, I’ll get on with it and I’ll die on the way down.”

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The Third Man (1949) b/w (Orson Welles, Joseph Cotton) An Oscar winning thriller set against the German post war landscape. Welles plays a good man corrupted by the potential of a country with little or no government. He’s the star of the movie, but shows up very late and only for brief periods. Cotton plays an American pulp-fiction writer, Holly Martins, who has come to Vienna to visit his wartime friend, Harry Lime — played by Welles. But he’s told Lime died in an accident. Wanting to find out how and why his friend died Martins starts to unravel several mysteries. This was a movie made back when Orson Welles hadn’t been crushed by Hollywood. He’s only in the movie for short periods, but he’s like Marlon Brando in Apoclypse Now with Cotton as Martin Sheen. You think the movie is about one thing, about one person, then you realize that person is just a bit player in something so much larger.

Harry Lime: “Don’t be so gloomy. After all it’s not that awful. Like the fella says, in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love – they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock. So long Holly.”

Harry Lime: “Nobody thinks in terms of human beings. Governments don’t. Why should we? They talk about the people and the proletariat, I talk about the suckers and the mugs – it’s the same thing. They have their five-year plans, so have I.”
Martins: “You used to believe in God.”
Harry Lime: “Oh, I still do believe in God, old man. I believe in God and Mercy and all that. But the dead are happier dead. They don’t miss much here, poor devils.”

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…since november fourteenth, 2006.

“You burn things when there’s no going back. How much of
yourself have you had to burn away to be
the person you are today? Because baby, my body
is ash and my mind is still smoking.”

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Posted in Bipolar, Canada, crazy people with no pants, Health, Living With Depression, Living With Manic Depression, Manic Depression, Photographers, Photography, Photos, Salted Lists | 5 Comments

Totally Inappropriate Salted Humour Day: Knock Knock

“Knock Knock”; ‘Pete And Brian‘

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I ain’t got nothing on my plate
Please let me sleep in late
No catfish biting at my bait
Please let me sleep in late

Feel like I’m standing at St. Peter’s gates
Please let me sleep in late
Don’t know the time, I don’t know the date
Please let me sleep in late

Gonna lay right down here in my cozy bed
Well I might be dreaming, you know
I might be dead

Don’t have to worry ’bout gaining weight
Please let me sleep in late
I ain’t time for love and hate
Please let me sleep in late

For when the sun begins to rise
I don’t want to see it through my tired eyes.

Don’t have to worry ’bout gaining weight
Please let me sleep in late
I ain’t got nothing on my plate
Please let me sleep in late
Don’t know the time, or the date
Please let me sleep in late

“Sleep In Late”, ‘Hit And Run’; Big Sugar (2003)

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Depression does not have to be depressing… well, okay, yes it does. Depression is always depressing. That’s why they call it depression. I’m not sure why I didn’t see that before I started. I don’t usually post on weekends — and technically wouldn’t be posting today (Saturday) but WordPress (normally as reliable an Internet service there ever was) had a meltdown last night — however, just before that happened I had the idea of posting something funny or interesting on Friday evenings just to keep myself and “others” amused until the week started again.

Sigh… the first version of this, which I lost due to the WP Meltdown, was a lot funnier. The second version wasn’t too bad… the third version was a hate fuelled rant that’s probably better off being chewed up like it was. The fourth was just 854 random letters, numbers and symbols… the fifth was mostly the same as the fourth, only in “all caps”. Six was the letter “D” 4021 times with two spaces between each “D”. Seven I did with my eyes closed, so I’m not sure about seven. Eight and nine were actually quite philosophical but contrary and cancelled each other out. Ten was a business plan for a blog hosting site based entirely on the idea that when there was an outage of some kind the people using the service received an email saying the service is down, then another when the service is back up… and you’re reading number twelve.

If you had been able to read number eleven it was a pretty good argument in favour of humour as a tool in our recovery from manic depression… it was also a pretty decent recipe for meatloaf.

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...thanks.

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Posted in Bipolar, Bipolar Disease, Bipolar Disorder, Clinical Depression, crazy people with no pants, Health, Humor, Humour, Inappropriate Humour Day, Living With Manic Depression, Manic Depression, Mental Health, Punk, YouTube | Tagged | 6 Comments

Handing Out Flowers To Anyone Who Wants Them For No Particular Reason Other Than To Make Your Life Totally Bitchin’ Cool


A purple spikey flower thing. August 21, 2007 — photo by Me.

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Your Body’s a small world with many meanings.
Love. If. Yes. But. Death.
Surely I will love you a little while,
perhaps as long as I have breath.

December is thirteen months long.
July’s one afternoon; therefore.
lover’s must outwit wool,
learn how to puncture fur.

To my love’s bed, to keep her warm,
I’ll carry wrapped and heated stones.
That which is comfort to the flesh
is sometimes torture to the bones.

“Canadian Love Poem”, Alden Nowlan

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Over the past three years I’ve been… trying to take responsibilty over my life, because for eighteen years I hadn’t. At all. But I’ll get into that soon, not now. Right now I’ve decided to do something relatively easy, and simple to make sure this winter has some colour to it which, in turn, might help in my recovery… and I thought it might be easy to share as well.

There are a whole lotta fantastic gardens in my little village. A few days ago, as I was out playing with my camera, I started to take photos of some of the more interesting flowers. After about the fourth one I got the idea to make large format prints of them for my walls.

Then I thought of making them available to anyone who wants them. I don’t think the DPI will be great enough to make posters, but they should be good enough to print at 11×17. At 8×10 or 5×7 they should look spectacular.

So if you click on the thumbnail you’ll see a larger format copy. Chose the ones you want — there are 25 altogether, and each is numbered in that little thought balloon thing. Then leave me a note or send me an email, and I’ll email you the large format — they’re basically 1.8Megs each. Pick as many as you want.

Then all you have to do is bring it to the local photo-place and have it blown up. The mounting, if it’s just foamcore, would cost very little. I’m not a botonist, so I can’t say which are indiginous to Canada, but I’ve found them all really interesting and very bright. Which, over a cold, grey winter, is the point.

And don’t worry… you’ll see my little copyright thing on the medium format shots, it won’t be on the large format ones. My personal favourites are number seventeen and the purple spikey thing at the top.

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Click on the thumbnail to see a medium format view, then make your selection and I’ll send you the large format version (without the copyright thing) so you can make prints for the wall. Do it kids, do it now… stick it to The Man.

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…since november fourteenth, 2006.

“You burn things when there’s no going back. How much of
yourself have you had to burn away to be
the person you are today? Because baby, my body
is ash and my mind is still smoking.”

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Posted in Bipolar, crazy people with no pants, Lithium, Living With Manic Depression, Manic Depression, Ottawa, Photographers, Photography, Photos, Punk | 18 Comments

Five Questions From Thordora A Few Answers From Me And Very Little Mention Of Cheese


My right hand in my work glove, August 19, 2007 — Me.

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Thordora’s Interview Rules:
1.
Leave me a comment saying “Interview Me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

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Thordora Is Asking Five Questions:
Thordora runs a very friendly personal blog at “Spin Me I Pulsate”, or vomitcomet, which is named after the late night bus service in Toronto. She was recently asked five questions by another blogger, with the caveat she publish the answers and she was to ask anyone who responded “Interview Me” another five questions. I was very, very drunk and asked to be interviewed. So now, if you want to be interviewed (five questions only), just write “Interview Me” somewhere in your response. The Rules above will apply.

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Thordora: I’m not very attached to things, to stuff. I don’t know if it’s a bipolar thing, an experiencing traumatic life events thing, or just me. Are you attached to any things? Is yes-what? If no, why do you think you’ve avoided the pack rat issue?

Me: I’ve become a pack rat in this apartment. After two years it’s the longest I’ve ever lived in one spot so I’ve bought a couch, been given a dining room set, a cushy chair and bought some dishes… this is the first time I’ve owned a full set of dishes. When I was moving so often it was very difficult to keep stuff, or buy a lot of things. But there were a few things that made every move with me, and that I’m very attached to:

a) Since 1982 I’ve had the same copies of “Lord Of The Rings” and “The Hobbit”
b) My set of “James Herriot” novels I’ve had pretty much as long
c) Four shoeboxes filled with notes and Valentines Day cards from girlfriends, birthday cards from my mom, a few small gifts girlfriends have given me and a bunch of Christmas stocking stuffers — mostly little toys. And a poster my brother drew of a dude pointing a gun at the viewer and demanding “hey, drink the fucking coffee.” I had it on my cupboard in my first apartment.

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Thordora: If you could change ONE thing about the Canadian medical system regarding how it treats the mentally ill, what would you change?

Me: Well, I’ve written about 8000 words on Salted about my disdain for one specific part of the system — be it American, British, Aussie or Canadian, and it’s the moment after diagnosis. The most broken part of the system is that it relies entirely on us to figure out what to do to treat the disease. How long after you were diagnosed did you have to wait to find out diet was essential, or that sleep is critical to manage the disease? Once we’re diagnosed we’re expected to be experts on manic depression. It’s actually left up to us to educate our relatives as though we had written the DSM-IV. When we’re finally diagnosed, after years of suffering and self-harm, we should be greeted with dieticians and experts explaining to our relatives that our behaviour has been fucked up because of a disease, not some amorphous disorder.

I don’t like quoting myself… no, really. This is from a post I wrote back in January: “A ‘Perfect World‘ Would Start With An Intervention”.

“Why are our doctors, not bringing dietitians into our appointment if diet is so important to our recovery? Why are we not being handed massive amounts of Vitamin D along with our Lithium? Why, if sleep is so all fucking important to our recovery, are we not being handed a sleep aid along with our Lithium and Vitamin D? Why does it take so fucking long for people to tell us that, “yes, in fact, your bizarre sleeping patterns are, in fact, quite abnormal and, yes, in fact, there are ways to manage your sleep with medications, in fact”?”

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Thordora: Your happiest moment. Tell me about it.

Me: No. But I’ll tell you about something that was close — actually, this would actually be an excellent list. In none of my journals will you ever read “I was so happy today”. Those types of moments have never been something I’ve collected. If by “happiest” you mean “most content” then my happiest moments have all been with someone else, and I don’t talk about those moments with anyone. The happiest I’ve been recently, like having completed a task, was finally finding “the Euros” in GTA: San Andreas. It’s a car and there’s only one in the entire game, and it’s hidden extremely well… it’s in Los Venturas, at the pyramid casino under the Sphinx. Okay… I have two moments, both involving awards. In 1986 I was at a Camp in the Eastern Townships of Quebec. Going there always meant a lot to me. That year I was given a special award in recognition of my sportsmanship by the counselors. Then in 1997 I won the Ontario Community Newspaper Associations Award for Best Humour Column in the Premier Category. They call out the names last to first, so I was expecting my name first. But it was some totally random other dude. And I thought “hey, second place.” Then another random dude’s name was called. The award was given to me based on eight columns my journalism teacher had submitted. I was the first College student to win in that Premiere category… and only the second or third to win in any Premiere category. My teacher was always my biggest booster, but not always my biggest fan. My humour is an acquired taste. I have the photo of us with the award on my desk. He died a few years later from stomach cancer.

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Thordora: You’re left with one song to hear and sing for the rest of your life. What is it? Why? (and please, no Mitsou.)

Me: Laura Veirs, “Icebound Stream” is currently my favourite, but “Hymn To Freedom” by Oscar Peterson has been my favourite the longest, but there’s no “why” to either other than the greatness and coolness of the songs. So if you’re looking for the song with the most meaning it’d probably be “Mother” by Pink Floyd. Late one night, after a party, I was putting my girlfriend to bed (we were still in separate beds) and this was playing on my stereo. She thanked me for not pressuring her into having sex, and I — kneeling on the floor beside the bed — couldn’t get over the size of her breasts. So I sang “Mother” to her… which was ironic in so many ways. Foreshadowing really. We were in love and still in high school, and we were… manipulated sounds right, into breaking up by… you guessed it, mom. Mom was only 15 when she met my father. He was in his early twenties. She went through hell. MM was 16 when we fell in love, I was 18. Holy passive aggressiveness. MM has three kids and a good husband and might as well live a million miles away… okay.

Actually there is a version of “Farewell to Nova Scotia”, only with Come Marching With Comrade style lyrics… whenever I hear the tune I always think about my childhood. But the lyrics to the real song are very different than the ones I sang as a kid.

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Thordora: The most important question of all-will Ottawa win the cup this season?!?!?!?!

Me: Nope. Anaheim will do it again, even without Neidermayer they’ve got the most dominant defence in the League. Watching them play any other team is like watching men play against boys. Ottawa will, however, be first in the Eastern Conference but it’ll be a lot harder getting to the Stanley Cup Finals this year now that the New York Rangers have a team again. I think it’s be very likely to be an Ottawa v. Anaheim Stanley Cup Finals again.

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…since november fourteenth, 2006.

“You burn things when there’s no going back. How much of
yourself have you had to burn away to be
the person you are today? Because baby, my body
is ash and my mind is still smoking.”

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Posted in Bipolar, Classic, crazy people with no pants, Living With Depression, Living With Manic Depression, Manic Depression | 18 Comments