Monthly Archives: May 2012

The secret

I read this really fascinating book on the weekend called “Sex at Dawn” (thanks, Kris!). Not just a book about the fundamental differences between men, women, and our historical and anthropological sexuality – when we had a much more liberal and openly promiscuous and healthy view of sex minus all the bullshit that religion shoves down our collective throats – this book is about much more.

It outlines that much of our world and how our ancestors lived in it changed as a result of agriculture, and not necessarily for the better. Not at all for the better…Actually. Land became property and the only way that one could get more of it is if you agreed to “marry into the family” and have babies to look after things. Or you could take the land through war. Marrying money meant that on paper you had an exchange of one resource for another – the use of a woman’s vagina and womb for land rights. Pleasant.

Personally, the only thing better for me in this era is that I get to be here to experience this life… And no one exchanged me for an acre of land, thank god. And, surely at my age, I might have been dead already living in most other times in human history. If things had not worked out as they have, I wouldn’t be here to write this. Aren’t you lucky? So, it’s a double edged sword.

After all, we are just intelligent lumbering apes who are occupying our time until we die. We eat, sleep, fuck and shit, and still manage to find time to love one another somehow and be productive… I know, uplifting, isn’t it?

But seriously. Why are we doing stupid shit that doesn’t matter? And why have we been doing it for so long? What is wealth anyway and why are people so goddamn hungry for it? I think change, and it better come fast, is in order.

As I watched some footage tonight about the protests in Montreal, and then watched a short video where someone said that the $1 trillion dollars the US spent on Iraq was worth it (to whom? Of course to Haliburton, et. al.), several things all coalesced in my sleepy brain:

1. Everything is made up (that’s not a new one for me if you know me at all…)

2. We certainly spend a lot of money on things that don’t matter… In the name of religion, imaginary borders, soul-sucking corporations, and our fear of mortality. There are major imbalances between what we think is right and what actually may be right.

3. We are mostly by-products of chaos. There’s no rhyme or reason, there just is. People make too much of things, and for all intents and purposes, I probably believe in some sort of universal power force, but “he” certainly isn’t a dad, doesn’t have a name and I’m sure his zombie son didn’t resurrect 2000 years ago. Call me crazy.

4. Some higher power must have a sense of humour if they granted humans “higher” intelligence…. ’cause what do we do with it? Dig up land and fling bits of it at one another, and slowly kill ourselves and each other in the process. What could we be doing with it? Absolutely anything.

We be dumb, dumb apes.


Raymond’s Last Party…

“On the day they lay me down/Want everyone to gather ‘round/And say he was a father, brother, neighbour and a friend/He was a good man!” — Emerson Drive

Raymond was swept away too soon, and he certainly was A Good Man when he was here.

Correction (thanks Maribeth):  Raymond was the *second* one of the grand-kid generation to go.  My cousin Lorna passed away 7 years ago.  I don’t think I ever knew that, and maybe I did, but I don’t remember, and it’s sad that I didn’t, and I’m even more saddened that I wasn’t closer to my Uncle Delmer and Aunt Joyce’s kids.  Distance can separate family as much as time can bring them together.  Randy, Lorna’s brother, hosted Raymond’s last party at his house on Saturday.  I remember them up at the farm all the time when I was little.  Life is strange sometimes…  How do we all float apart from one another?  There is something to be said for a common family homestead.  When Grandma moved away, and the farm was sold, it didn’t give us a reason to all congregate any more…

Up until now, on my mom’s side of the family, we’ve lost many family members…  A handful of my first cousins died in infancy or childhood but this was a tough one for many of us of the Charlie and Mary grand-kid generation.  I’m the second youngest, and even though 2o years or so separated Raymond and I, and I’m closer in age with his children, it still wasn’t easy.  He was more like an uncle to me than a cousin.  That crazy uncle who you loved to have around to hear the stories from, that always had a joke to tell, and that really wanted to know what was going on in your life (mostly so he could tease you).  That kind of uncle.

He didn’t want anyone to be sad on Saturday.  He set it up so we could have a party.  He set it up so it would be short and sweet so we could get to the good stuff.  Just like he wanted.

We had country and rock music in the funeral parlour; old pictures on the screen; and a bottle of alcohol passed around at the cemetery for those that wanted to share one last round with Raymond.  It was him.  It was great.

Dammit.  Adam, his oldest son, and I were saying that it’s only going to get harder as the years go by.  That’s a given.

I have stuff to do.  I better get to it.  Nothing like mortality to refocus what’s important and meaningful in your life.

Thank you, Raymond.  Thank you.