Herein Follows,

The Personal Writings of General Havoc,

During his Foray into the Blustery Environs

Of

Nova Scotia

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October 28^th, 2004.	So right now I’m a little annoyed. I’m at that not quite angry and not quite so pissed off I want to fight someone. I am to the point where I want to spit on a whole group of peoples beliefs in a storm of disgusted distain though . . . so maybe I am angry . . . Most of what I’m feeling at the moment I can lay at my own doorstep in regards to where I’m at in the world right now. Messing up my stone, the lack of work production for studio and my financial situation are all problems of my own creation. On the other hand, external factors are beginning to cramp on me at the moment as well. I’m honestly rather worried about whether my group of friends in Kitchener are really my friends or whether they’ve joined that group of “people I used to know”. It kind of aggravates me that I’m making friends here that I’ll likely never see again. I’ll be leaving people behind (in a little more than six months) who seem to understand (or at least accept) who I am more than the people I’ve called friend going on 5 years or more now. Maybe it’s an artist thing or maybe I’m just a bit worldlier than I was when I was quiet friendly General Havoc and not so bloody naïve. I suppose in the end I could stand quietly and take it on the chin while others sit and quietly make fun of me behind my back. But that’s not the way I am anymore. I’d rather tell those people to shut the fuck up before I ram a god-damn apple down their shit smeared pig throats. Dumb = fucking hilarious. Fuck I hate people who don’t think before they type.
September 7^th, 2004.	So today is my birthday. Today I turn twenty six years old. The end.
May 29th, 2004
	I’m not sure where to begin. First, I’d like to say that I was pleasantly surprised at the turn of political events in India . . . the next day I was unpleasantly disappointed by the about turn of the same said events. I can’t say I was surprised given the traditional climes in India at the moment, but it was still disappointing to see the triumph of tradition and culture over such a progressive stride toward equality for women in India. Recently I have been a tad disheartened by the irreverence that my circle of friends have for the idea of Canada as a nation and political entity. I can’t say that my patriotism fares any better than the average Canadians. The apathy that afflicts the Canadian voter confounds me. I hear more and more of how the government is corrupt, the government does not care, the government does not listen to the people . . . of course they don’t. The people aren’t saying anything! How can the Canadian people expect to effect change if they don’t vote? There are problems with health care, problems with the pension fund, problems with tax, with gas, with the military, with the homeless, with pollution, with education, with infrastructure, with funding and so on and so forth. So what. What, as an individual can you do? I’m only one person. My vote doesn’t mean anything. The parties don’t address my issues . . . Well the last time I checked, your votes count even less if you never vote at all. Last time I checked, 1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1 plus a million other ones equal a difference. Last time I checked, you could inform the officials on voting day of the unsuitability of the candidates (not by marking you suck or some other asinine thing on the ballot because that just gets them thrown out as spoiled ballots). Maybe, just maybe, if the people of Canada could raise their collective heads from their reality-media, self-absorbed, political-disinterest induced stupor, maybe WE would SEE that there are PROBLEMS that WE CAN CORRECT!!! In all honesty, I think the method by which Canada is governed should change because what we have now is not working. But what we have is what we have to work with if we don’t start working with it; we’ll be sorry in the long run. For more ranted frustration about the state of Canada and its “noble” citizenry, come on over here.
March 25th, 2004
	Once more into the breach my friends . . . for those who know me or have passed older versions of my website, they will note a absence of poetry in this particular incarnation. I assure you, the creative spark is far from dead, but it is a little dim of late. Prose is my most prominent verbal forte where the couplets and quartlings or what have you seem to elude a tasteful arrangement for me at the best of times. In an effort to buck my backslide into the trenches of ignoble and spurious doldrumery (yes, I fear I just made that word up, derived from doldrums, which coincidentally, is a word), I have launched into a flurry of forced prose and a rehashing of the old, which I will now present here . . . to ponderous and half-hearted applause I’m sure. To the poetry . . . . The day I went to see the rain forest Today I went to see the rainforest. But it was not there. Instead, there were cut up piles of dead trees. Instead there were stacks of exotic woods. Each wood was beautiful and sweet to the touch. As their trees must have been a wonder to the eyes. Looking at the dead trees made me feel sick Looking at the ebony, heart and rosewoods made me feel wonderful I wanted to wretch and turn away. I wanted to create and carve. In the end I did neither. I just held the wood and felt the tree inside. As an aside, I have updated my notes page with that fire exposition and for the interested, my oh so cherubic face.
February 29th, 2004	Well, the second month of the new year has passed and nothing is strictly “new” per say. I still continue the life of a student, though poorer, and I still continue wishing to pass Collections History (otherwise know as “The Study of Collections” of my earlier post). This goal has changed though I’ll admit nothing publicly, but privately I think the teacher is a rather enthusiastic reader of meandering papers included in midterm tests. The reasoning behind this is far from sound, but I somehow managed to pull a miraculous midterm grade of –A out of a page short paper that said nothing more than “I’m a tired writer. Let me go to bed.” There were bits in there about the D’Este family and Medici and accompanying platitudes, but nothing I though warranting anything close to a C, let alone an –A! Color me surprised. On a darker note, I have been rather morbidly fascinated by the idea of being employed and garnering some wages for my woefully depleted financial depository (as if that wasn’t an over simplified line). Nonetheless, I have been moved to post resumes and employment applications at various sites of interest to me. I must admit, that one more week without employ will have me begging for financial succour at even the most odious of establishments. Thankfully I have a interview promised already by the reputable Securitas™ and will not likely have to apply to work for Microsoft™. That expletive brings me to a related topics regarding said “corporate being”, specifically its products. Earlier in the week, my brand-new state-of-the-art-that-I-could-afford Dell™ computer broke. By “broke” I mean BROKE. It steadfastly refused to fail to freeze on start-up at the light blue screen before the “profiles screen”, the “profiles screen” and the blue “loading your personal preferences screen” after the “profiles screen”. Needless to say, the whole experience was quite an ordeal. It was an ordeal made less by my roommate Evil! whose font of knowledge runneth over in the computer department. In the end, we discarded the finite wisdom of Dell™ tech support in favour of not reinstalling windows before checking EVERYTHING else first. A lucky thing too I must say! We ran a interminably long diagnostic test that found “one or more errors” that were repaired without telling the problem (thank you Microsoft™ *please note thickly applied sarcasm*) and away to the races went the computer. Despite losing access to my personal profile (as it is now “corrupted” and inaccessible) I’m just happy I retain all that was on my computer and that weeks of research and months of downloads (legitimate of course) were not lost. On a completely separate topic, everyone must see the anime film “Castle in the Sky” by the Studio Ghibli bunch. Wonderful. Ideas for stories and scenarios just leapt into my head from the merest glance at the land it takes place in and the characters it surrounds. Again, simply wonderful. As a last bit (in case it becomes a habit of mine to post on a monthly basis) of written reminder to those who see this. Remember who your friends are and why you are friends with them. I’d like to thank my particular “peeps” for putting up with me and my stubborn and damn prickly at times self. I offer no apologies, only thanks. It makes life that much more enjoyable knowing you. Special thanks to TheKyle over at Section-9 who brought a little of the old me to life and helped put a little of the new me away.
January 31^st, 2004	The first month of the New Year has come and gone and I have as much to show for my efforts as any dishevelled college student. I begin to think there is something to these rumours of “the winter blahs”. This is the first time I have attempted to put words to paper (technically speaking) since the beginning of my school year in the fall of 2003. Today being a Saturday, I really have nothing to do but go to school and attempt to accomplish some semblance of work in the art studio. There’s a thought . . . I’ve been taking a course on the Study of Collections. Within the course curriculum is a section about the creation of the “Wunderkammern”, translating to miracle chambers in the mother tongue. In any event, I have become intrigued by the very idea of a cabinet of curiosities and items that has meaning to the individual as well as in some universal way to my fellow man (or woman). That last bit brings up another thought that has been percolating for some time, like coffee left overnight in the pot . . . it has gotten rather strong and fairly insufferable. The thought itself is on feminism and that way it makes me feel. Right from the first, I hope I do not have to remind those who know me that I am not a misogynist bastard, nor do I think that women should continue to break their necks on the glass ceiling that society has. That said, I am right fucking tired of having men shit on by right wing feminists that feel men are to blame for all social ills from obesity to the seal hunt. This normally isn’t a problem for the average person, since in a normal day I would not expect someone to run into the number of right wing feminists that you do at an art school. The reason I am so tired of these people (both women and men) is that I am not my ancestors. I am not the decision maker for my gender down the generations from father to son nor am I the product of their woman crushing spirits. What I am is a man who has respect for women . . . but at the same time I will not apologize for the acts of others who lived in a age where that was considered the social norm. These rabid dogs actually want me to be contrite and apologetic for asking what is so fascinating about Isabella D’Este aside from the fact that she was the first woman collector in Medici ruled Florence? Is her collection a particularly spectacular example of items? No. Does it contain any rare artefacts that are found nowhere else? No. What the D’Este collection is, is a middle level noble collection of objects that is a poor example in comparison to say, the ruling Medici family. But of course, I’m in the wrong because A) I’m a male B) I’m a student C) The teacher is a feminist and D) I actually want to pass the class. I just want to go to my classes without being subjected to some perverse fantasy occupying the right wing feminist movement of revenge of the male gender. It pisses me off.