What happened today at Queen and Spadina was nothing short of an atrocity, was nothing short of our liberty being raped. There was no violence today anywhere, the black bloc was nowhere to be seen today. Only peaceful protests. Only peaceful protests.
One such protest, again peaceful was quickly surrounded and cornered. They were told to leave and provided with no exits. The crowd sang Oh Canada and when they were finished had riot police charge them The protesters were quickly arrested and removed and any common people were passing by, watching or simple private citizens were detained, for hours, in the pouring rain, not told what they were being charged with. Even media were detained, CTV's Lisa Laflamme's cameraman was detained for filming the protests at Queen and Spadina until Lisa yelled and screamed and got him free.
The police eventually were emabarassed into letting innocent people go free. Yes read that again.
Toronto? Canada?
It doesn't seem like that anymore.
Numerous reports of detainee conditions at the Film Studio Makeshit Jail.
People being held without access to lawyers, without being told they are being charged. Women have to use their in cell bathrooms in full view of male police officers, being left without toilet paper, without access to medication, having cops laugh at them. Being detained for over twenty hours at times in cold, with little water, food at (just sandwiches) at 9 hour intervals. Their cells were cages bolted to the ground.
If you read the above paragraph alone, where would you think we were, where would you believe this had happened.
It happened in Canada.
It happened in a once free city.
It happened in Toronto.
It is something we will not soon forget.
-s
Sunday, June 27, 2010
The Day My City Died.
I was there yesterday as a witness to the murder of democracy.
I was there.
It was a day I will not soon forget, it was a day that broke my heart.
Perhaps the pouring rain at the outset of the protest was a sign of things to come.
The day began innocently enough, many of us gathered to air our grievances, to add our voices and stand together against the injustices we see in this world. We gathered to protest the policies of a few rich nations deciding the course the lives of many would take and under what terms those lives had a right to exist. We were there to voice our opposition to policies that favour massive bailouts of banks and multinationals on the backs of oppressed peoples and workers. As we began to march, the skies opened, the rain stopped and for a moment the mood changed to one of jubilation. Perhaps it was a sign that the day would go well...
It was not to be.
The mood of soured quite quickly. Sure enough, the black bloc and and their sympathizers hijacked the message of peace and began a campaign of vandalism and violence, easily eradicating any ground the people could have gained in their peaceful protest.
It did not however start there. No. It began when during the march, batallions of Riot Police lined the streets, blocking intersections, wielding shields batons and semi-automatic plastic bullet guns. It continued when we approached intersections such as Richmond and Spadina and cops began donning gas masks and bringing in reinforcements to deal with crowds of peaceful protesters.
"We are peaceful, what are you?"
I still hear our chants ringing in my head.
It continued when police left decoy vehicles for renegade individuals to smash and torch to justify an absurd security budget, for tv cameras to broadcast the wanton destructive turn the protests had taken.
Most of us were peaceful. Yet with blanket hubris, the police soon decided that all protesters were dangerous.
It was then the bullying began. It was then the the intimidation began. Wholesale.
Back at Queens Park, the police hemmed us in to the once place we were told we could protest in peace. 4000 riot police gathered and surrounded the park. Row upon row of black clad riot police stood at the ready and slowly began to advance on the crowd, flanking us. Beating a staccato rhythm on their shields with their batons they inched forwards chanting "MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE," pushing us back. We yelled, "where are we to go? This was where you told us to be, we are moving stop intimidating us," but they kept advancing, their lines getting deeper, their forces continuing to flank us at every opportunity. The police then began to pick certain people out of the crowd of peaceful protesters. The ranks of the riot police line would swiftly open, a few cops would run out, grab a protester, tie their hands and drag them back behind police lines.
"That is what democracy looks like."
I can still hear our chants ringing in my head.
They did this repoeatedly. I had never been so terrified in my life, my thighs and kness would quake each time they beat their batons and moved forward. They began then to rush forward, forcing the crowd to flee backwards, then stop, then inch forward, open grab a protester, then stop, then inch forward, rush at us, then stop. My heart pounded. We were peaceful, when they not asked but demanded we move back, we complied and they kept coming at us. Then they began to fire plastic bullets into the crowd.
I heard Chief Blair say no bullets were fired, he said it with such a straight face, for a moment I though perhaps I had imagined the whole thing. He lied. He was not there, I was. I saw someone beside get shot, hold his inner thigh in pain and curse, "what the hell are you shooting me for, I'm moving back!" There were cops with plastic bullet guns, headsets picking out targets, getting information on who and when to shoot and as the police advanced and we back up, they would fire, then rush us. We in absurd irony were pushed back past the statue of William Lyon Mackenzie at Queens Park and the placard adorning the foot of the monument hailing Mackenzie's efforts and dream of responsible government. They continued to push, more and more police officers rushing in and surrounding us.
Then they brought their horses. Riot police created a line in front of the police on steeds, would bang loudly on their shields and yell "MOVE" and we would move. In honour of our compliance they opened up their middle and the had their horse police charge at us, over and over moving us back then opening up and rushing horses at us, pushing us further and further back. People would fall and the police would not let up. They pushed us to bloor street, to the west side of Varsity Stadium, stood for some time, some smirking, some saying "the fun's over come back tomorrow," before heading into a bus and laving for other parts of downtown.
I was and am still mortified at how with such impunity, such disregard for the legal right to assembly adn freedom to associate and protest they came at us as if all who wanted to have their voices heard were criminals to be silenced, chopped off at the knees and tongues.
"Shame, Shame, Shame."
"The Whole World Is Watching."
I can still hear our chants ringing in my head.
As I reflected last night and this morning, I mourn for my country, mourn for my city. The police, surely have a job to do, to keep the peace, to protect the citizenry from harm and malicious intent of the few. How this was achieved and if this was I cannot say. What I do know however, what I do believe however is quite different. In five star hotels among five star meals, leaders of the richest nations, some with human rights abuses that curdle the spirit of any man and woman are invited to our country, our city to sign off of treaties that have little transparency, no accountablity in providing the vulnerable of this world with the basics of shelter, water, freedom from hunger adn freedom of choice. These pledges are done with caveats of behaviour and reform that governments of poor nations must endorse or their people suffer. The police then are that line that protect and help reinforce those policies. Rather than protect those who pay them those who need them, rather than allow speech to be fair, for speech to document the abuses humanity is enduring at the hands of the few, they push us back, they charge at us, they beat their batons to the song of murder and choke our voices. They did it so easily, without a second thought, they came at their own neighbours, brothers and sisters and fellow citizens with a disdain and disregard that will haunt me the rest of my days. So many times the police outnumbered us and continued to increase their ranks and push us back and back and back and back.
Yesterday I saw my city crumble under the boot of oppression that the many who live in this place had once fled from. I saw my city die, her bloody lips in protest leaving streaks of red on the pavement where she fell.
When those who wish to speak in peace and assemble peacefully are so forcefully, it is that moment when democracy begins to die, it is then that ALL of our civil liberties are are burned to the wind, it then that we are no longer free.
"This is what a police state looks like."
I will never forget our chants that continue to ring through my head.
I was there.
It was a day I will not soon forget, it was a day that broke my heart.
Perhaps the pouring rain at the outset of the protest was a sign of things to come.
The day began innocently enough, many of us gathered to air our grievances, to add our voices and stand together against the injustices we see in this world. We gathered to protest the policies of a few rich nations deciding the course the lives of many would take and under what terms those lives had a right to exist. We were there to voice our opposition to policies that favour massive bailouts of banks and multinationals on the backs of oppressed peoples and workers. As we began to march, the skies opened, the rain stopped and for a moment the mood changed to one of jubilation. Perhaps it was a sign that the day would go well...
It was not to be.
The mood of soured quite quickly. Sure enough, the black bloc and and their sympathizers hijacked the message of peace and began a campaign of vandalism and violence, easily eradicating any ground the people could have gained in their peaceful protest.
It did not however start there. No. It began when during the march, batallions of Riot Police lined the streets, blocking intersections, wielding shields batons and semi-automatic plastic bullet guns. It continued when we approached intersections such as Richmond and Spadina and cops began donning gas masks and bringing in reinforcements to deal with crowds of peaceful protesters.
"We are peaceful, what are you?"
I still hear our chants ringing in my head.
It continued when police left decoy vehicles for renegade individuals to smash and torch to justify an absurd security budget, for tv cameras to broadcast the wanton destructive turn the protests had taken.
Most of us were peaceful. Yet with blanket hubris, the police soon decided that all protesters were dangerous.
It was then the bullying began. It was then the the intimidation began. Wholesale.
Back at Queens Park, the police hemmed us in to the once place we were told we could protest in peace. 4000 riot police gathered and surrounded the park. Row upon row of black clad riot police stood at the ready and slowly began to advance on the crowd, flanking us. Beating a staccato rhythm on their shields with their batons they inched forwards chanting "MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE," pushing us back. We yelled, "where are we to go? This was where you told us to be, we are moving stop intimidating us," but they kept advancing, their lines getting deeper, their forces continuing to flank us at every opportunity. The police then began to pick certain people out of the crowd of peaceful protesters. The ranks of the riot police line would swiftly open, a few cops would run out, grab a protester, tie their hands and drag them back behind police lines.
"That is what democracy looks like."
I can still hear our chants ringing in my head.
They did this repoeatedly. I had never been so terrified in my life, my thighs and kness would quake each time they beat their batons and moved forward. They began then to rush forward, forcing the crowd to flee backwards, then stop, then inch forward, open grab a protester, then stop, then inch forward, rush at us, then stop. My heart pounded. We were peaceful, when they not asked but demanded we move back, we complied and they kept coming at us. Then they began to fire plastic bullets into the crowd.
I heard Chief Blair say no bullets were fired, he said it with such a straight face, for a moment I though perhaps I had imagined the whole thing. He lied. He was not there, I was. I saw someone beside get shot, hold his inner thigh in pain and curse, "what the hell are you shooting me for, I'm moving back!" There were cops with plastic bullet guns, headsets picking out targets, getting information on who and when to shoot and as the police advanced and we back up, they would fire, then rush us. We in absurd irony were pushed back past the statue of William Lyon Mackenzie at Queens Park and the placard adorning the foot of the monument hailing Mackenzie's efforts and dream of responsible government. They continued to push, more and more police officers rushing in and surrounding us.
Then they brought their horses. Riot police created a line in front of the police on steeds, would bang loudly on their shields and yell "MOVE" and we would move. In honour of our compliance they opened up their middle and the had their horse police charge at us, over and over moving us back then opening up and rushing horses at us, pushing us further and further back. People would fall and the police would not let up. They pushed us to bloor street, to the west side of Varsity Stadium, stood for some time, some smirking, some saying "the fun's over come back tomorrow," before heading into a bus and laving for other parts of downtown.
I was and am still mortified at how with such impunity, such disregard for the legal right to assembly adn freedom to associate and protest they came at us as if all who wanted to have their voices heard were criminals to be silenced, chopped off at the knees and tongues.
"Shame, Shame, Shame."
"The Whole World Is Watching."
I can still hear our chants ringing in my head.
As I reflected last night and this morning, I mourn for my country, mourn for my city. The police, surely have a job to do, to keep the peace, to protect the citizenry from harm and malicious intent of the few. How this was achieved and if this was I cannot say. What I do know however, what I do believe however is quite different. In five star hotels among five star meals, leaders of the richest nations, some with human rights abuses that curdle the spirit of any man and woman are invited to our country, our city to sign off of treaties that have little transparency, no accountablity in providing the vulnerable of this world with the basics of shelter, water, freedom from hunger adn freedom of choice. These pledges are done with caveats of behaviour and reform that governments of poor nations must endorse or their people suffer. The police then are that line that protect and help reinforce those policies. Rather than protect those who pay them those who need them, rather than allow speech to be fair, for speech to document the abuses humanity is enduring at the hands of the few, they push us back, they charge at us, they beat their batons to the song of murder and choke our voices. They did it so easily, without a second thought, they came at their own neighbours, brothers and sisters and fellow citizens with a disdain and disregard that will haunt me the rest of my days. So many times the police outnumbered us and continued to increase their ranks and push us back and back and back and back.
Yesterday I saw my city crumble under the boot of oppression that the many who live in this place had once fled from. I saw my city die, her bloody lips in protest leaving streaks of red on the pavement where she fell.
When those who wish to speak in peace and assemble peacefully are so forcefully, it is that moment when democracy begins to die, it is then that ALL of our civil liberties are are burned to the wind, it then that we are no longer free.
"This is what a police state looks like."
I will never forget our chants that continue to ring through my head.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Free City?
Last Friday, a week before these infamous summits, Em and I went downtown to see and photograph the fence.
It was so incredibly eerie and disarming to see these fences near completion, erect and like an absurd taunt to the people in this city. It was the weekend of NXNE, and so many people it seemed were downtown, enjoying the Friday night seemlingly oblivious of the atrocity nd irony of smiling behind fences. What was in their hearts however, I do not profess to know, nor can safely judge. In the heart of downtown, as the sun was setting and the evening settling in, I swear to you it felt like we were under occupation.
One week later, it seems we are.
Today the protests started in earnest. Battalions of police are in Toronto, fully regaled in riot gear, shields, masks, batons at the ready. They have buses full of police, helicopters flying overhead. About one month ago the province quietly ushered in an old police law allowing them these wicked powers of detainment and arrest. We cannot even move in certain parts of our city without being subject to search and identification.
This was once a free country and a free place.
Though I am not here to argue that security has no place. There have been similar protests before but none with such an incredible presence of law enforcement dressed for combat.
I was thinking earlier today about the nature of the police and i thought this - It is we who share with the world knowledge, dialogue, spirit, assistance and friendship that are the true police of this city and at the large this world. Only though peaceful dialogue with one another can we achieve a better place for humanity. This does not mean that agitation is out removed from the equation. Far from it. Non-Violent Civil Disobedience, the right to march and be heard, freedom of assembly, freedom to disent, freedom of movement are essential cornerstones of any democracy and should be protected and honoured by all. How exactly then does a peace officer protect the peace behind shields, armed and ready to fire upon their own brother and sister citizens on command? No, they are not peace officers, they are not police officers, they are that line that protects the status quo. They are the army of governments, who in the name of their people spill blood and turn as their backs as the poor die in cycles of violence and poverty.
The G8 and G20 are insolent gatherings of government delegations making odes to murder and impoverishment of the most vulnerable of our planet.
Tomorrow they come to my city. Tomorrow I march. I march for peace, for humanity, for the protection of our planet, an end to corporatism, poverty, I march for clean water to be given to all, for food to be provided for our hungry, housing for our homeless, support and choice for our women. We are not marching so governments can erect blanket jingoistic policies based on fleeting moralities so the most needy must conform to standards and beg for assistance. Most of all we march because the few, the rich few should never be able to decide course of life for the many. The few should never be able to dictate how the many shall live and survive.
Follow me tomorrow on twitter - Freecitycitizen
for now here are some pics the evening one week before the summits began.
Freecity?
It was so incredibly eerie and disarming to see these fences near completion, erect and like an absurd taunt to the people in this city. It was the weekend of NXNE, and so many people it seemed were downtown, enjoying the Friday night seemlingly oblivious of the atrocity nd irony of smiling behind fences. What was in their hearts however, I do not profess to know, nor can safely judge. In the heart of downtown, as the sun was setting and the evening settling in, I swear to you it felt like we were under occupation.
One week later, it seems we are.
Today the protests started in earnest. Battalions of police are in Toronto, fully regaled in riot gear, shields, masks, batons at the ready. They have buses full of police, helicopters flying overhead. About one month ago the province quietly ushered in an old police law allowing them these wicked powers of detainment and arrest. We cannot even move in certain parts of our city without being subject to search and identification.
This was once a free country and a free place.
Though I am not here to argue that security has no place. There have been similar protests before but none with such an incredible presence of law enforcement dressed for combat.
I was thinking earlier today about the nature of the police and i thought this - It is we who share with the world knowledge, dialogue, spirit, assistance and friendship that are the true police of this city and at the large this world. Only though peaceful dialogue with one another can we achieve a better place for humanity. This does not mean that agitation is out removed from the equation. Far from it. Non-Violent Civil Disobedience, the right to march and be heard, freedom of assembly, freedom to disent, freedom of movement are essential cornerstones of any democracy and should be protected and honoured by all. How exactly then does a peace officer protect the peace behind shields, armed and ready to fire upon their own brother and sister citizens on command? No, they are not peace officers, they are not police officers, they are that line that protects the status quo. They are the army of governments, who in the name of their people spill blood and turn as their backs as the poor die in cycles of violence and poverty.
The G8 and G20 are insolent gatherings of government delegations making odes to murder and impoverishment of the most vulnerable of our planet.
Tomorrow they come to my city. Tomorrow I march. I march for peace, for humanity, for the protection of our planet, an end to corporatism, poverty, I march for clean water to be given to all, for food to be provided for our hungry, housing for our homeless, support and choice for our women. We are not marching so governments can erect blanket jingoistic policies based on fleeting moralities so the most needy must conform to standards and beg for assistance. Most of all we march because the few, the rich few should never be able to decide course of life for the many. The few should never be able to dictate how the many shall live and survive.
Follow me tomorrow on twitter - Freecitycitizen
for now here are some pics the evening one week before the summits began.
Freecity?
Friday, June 11, 2010
Fever
I've got it.
Being at work is hard knowing that the World Cup is a happening.
Thank God for the weekend and espcially the Colonists vs. the Colonials tomorrow.
I don't have much more to say, which should come as a shock and relief.
Enjoy the the month of football. I will howsoever I can.
-s
Being at work is hard knowing that the World Cup is a happening.
Thank God for the weekend and espcially the Colonists vs. the Colonials tomorrow.
I don't have much more to say, which should come as a shock and relief.
Enjoy the the month of football. I will howsoever I can.
-s
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Puppetry
Do you ever feel like you're being strung along for a ride sometimes? Not really something prescient or fatalist, but more along the lines of sheer chicanery and malicious illusion?
I don't mean to be a downer, I am a questioner, i seek only answers and this usually leads to
a) a mild or complex form of lunacy - see eccentricity, refer also to paranoia, delusion, helplessness, isolation
b) a crumbling of the foundations that I myself have either built or have been housed in, usually with the consequence of the bricks falling upon the people who helped me build my walls and churches
So what brings on this fit of madness today?
Simple. Riots.
Now not so simple.
Athens is exploding day by day. Bangkok is on fire, people are defiant, foolish, willing to die. I'll say it again, willing to die.
Maybe once more. WILLING TO DIE FOR...everything.
So here is the puppetry, the masters of it, the strings. Money. Always comes with strings attached. Doesn't it?
Greece has accepted an "austerity" plan. You know how I see it? Like this. There are still 4 major powers in Europe - The English, who refuse to co-operate with anyone and will die by their pound. The French, whose ideals of liberty, secularism are praised by both the extreme factions of xenophobic and the inteligensia at large. The German, still the proud, efficient men and woman of the Holy Roman Empire, an economy that is continually renewed and built for survival in every age. Lastly, the Russians, the same secretive mob of government, always intriguing and alwasy shadowy.
It seems that for a very long time, the dynamics of this planet, Europe in especial, but Earth at large have been shaped by the events that happen in these four Nations. The "austerity" plan? Joint recommandation by the German-French EU alliance, of which currently Germany is the head of. Bascially Germany just bought Greece. They did not need any physical anschulz, they bought it for pennies on the Euro and we begin all over again. Same wars, same stories, different dead bodies and oppositions members, but essentially the same. It's as if we never learn, we just gave Germany the power to buy failing countries and prop them up with "enterprise" which means economic dependance. France backs it for now, England is sinking, and the KGB are suddenly fashionable again.
So they yank our strings again. The world explodes and we need to go buy more shoes and toothpaste becuase what else will you do?
And then perhaps in June, our city will explode as well. I will be there.
I will not be a match. I am the fire. I will burn with everyone.
-s
I don't mean to be a downer, I am a questioner, i seek only answers and this usually leads to
a) a mild or complex form of lunacy - see eccentricity, refer also to paranoia, delusion, helplessness, isolation
b) a crumbling of the foundations that I myself have either built or have been housed in, usually with the consequence of the bricks falling upon the people who helped me build my walls and churches
So what brings on this fit of madness today?
Simple. Riots.
Now not so simple.
Athens is exploding day by day. Bangkok is on fire, people are defiant, foolish, willing to die. I'll say it again, willing to die.
Maybe once more. WILLING TO DIE FOR...everything.
So here is the puppetry, the masters of it, the strings. Money. Always comes with strings attached. Doesn't it?
Greece has accepted an "austerity" plan. You know how I see it? Like this. There are still 4 major powers in Europe - The English, who refuse to co-operate with anyone and will die by their pound. The French, whose ideals of liberty, secularism are praised by both the extreme factions of xenophobic and the inteligensia at large. The German, still the proud, efficient men and woman of the Holy Roman Empire, an economy that is continually renewed and built for survival in every age. Lastly, the Russians, the same secretive mob of government, always intriguing and alwasy shadowy.
It seems that for a very long time, the dynamics of this planet, Europe in especial, but Earth at large have been shaped by the events that happen in these four Nations. The "austerity" plan? Joint recommandation by the German-French EU alliance, of which currently Germany is the head of. Bascially Germany just bought Greece. They did not need any physical anschulz, they bought it for pennies on the Euro and we begin all over again. Same wars, same stories, different dead bodies and oppositions members, but essentially the same. It's as if we never learn, we just gave Germany the power to buy failing countries and prop them up with "enterprise" which means economic dependance. France backs it for now, England is sinking, and the KGB are suddenly fashionable again.
So they yank our strings again. The world explodes and we need to go buy more shoes and toothpaste becuase what else will you do?
And then perhaps in June, our city will explode as well. I will be there.
I will not be a match. I am the fire. I will burn with everyone.
-s
Friday, May 7, 2010
sometimes we are reminded of music
we watched a movie tonight that I have been wanting to watch for quite some time. It was not a movie I wanted to see in theatres, (didn't have the time nor inclination for the whole foray) nor something I wanted to rent, (since renting seems to be more a waste these days and once again no inclination for the whole foray).
So I waited for the movie to appear on TMN on Demand and it finally did. It was the Soloist, the movie about Nathaniel Ayers, and from what I got from it, the redemtive powers of both music and friendship. Granted there are many things that are wrong with the film and reinforce and confirm my non theatre paying and non rental of the movie by conventional method. The direction is awful, incoherent, choppy and poorly edited. It is also needlessly pompous and self-serving, trying to force higher meaning rather than letting the story allow the emotion to occur naturally. The movie takes shortcuts in the storytelling itself and the ridiculous idea that Robert Downey Jr, from an asthetic purpose could pass for an American born of Spanish and Italian origin is not only laughable but downright insulting at points when you hear the name "Steve Lopez" over and over and see Iron Man, it seems slightly disingenuous. But that really isn't too important. It stops it from being a great and perhaps superb film, but it isn't important.
It isn't important because at the very least and most importantly the core message of the film, that music is vital, vibrant and redemptive, that friendship is vital, vibrant and redemptive, pulses through. Here is the crux, even though RDj plays Steve Lopez, he does such a fine fine job you end up forgetting the absurdity of the a white guy playing some halfway white guy. He makes him human and accessible, he plays him so well he becomes just human. Even better is how beautifully, how touchingly Jaime Foxx plays Nathaniel Ayers. Foxx has to be one of the best actors I have ever seen and if I had paid theatre or rental money for this film it would be worth it for hte performance of Foxx and Downeyjr alone. They make a mediocre-bad movie actually watchable and kind of good.
The movie also got me thinking which is another (plus in its favour) about two things. The first was how close we all are to crazy. And by crazy I do not wish to convey the derogatory. I mean to covey how I grew up and still identify the terminology of crazy - madness. Illness of the mind. I think we are all so close, so precariously close to breaking points each and every day, that it is wonder that we consider ourselves sane and continue to operate in a "normal" fashion. By the same token it is also remarkable that we don't respect the chorus of voices inside our heads perhaps as much as we should, that we try as hard as we can to hut them our, tune them out and distract ourselves from the noise with other noise. Madness it neither a choice nor a solution, it is an acceptance, often a wrenching acceptance, of absurdity, fear and the pressures of living up to our own and the perceived expectations of the world around us. Sometimes, these ideas just hit home a little harder, and tonight was one of those times. There are moments, perhaps small, statistically insignficant moments but personally relevant moments where we teeter on the edge, tremble at our loose footing and feel with all our being the absurdity of our every breath, the madness of our every step. For me the movie really hit home on that level.
The other part of the movie that was so important for me was the music and what it made me articulate to myself. Not just that I love music, love the passion, the desire for and the redemption that music brings. It was something far more tangible and direct.
I love stringed music.
This is something so superficial and exoteric to take from the film, but I am indebted to it for that. It made me realize how much I love stringed instruments, especially cellos, violins and guitars. It then went deeper into how much I love sustained notes. The pull of the note, how it soars and pierces. The note as it moves along, the lingering of a note, the movement and shadow of the linger, how it can cut you so deeply, wound you and still make you smile. For that alone I am so happy to have watched the movie.
So if anything, it should be all over the net or in any library and is probably public domain ...listen to Beethoven's Violin Concerto In D Major, the Allegreto, and I defy you tell to me you did not think of everything in your life, every lingered moment, every bated breath, every rain night and slow sunny day. I defy you tell me you did not for even one moment feel that stab in your chest that you could not place in a definitive moment, but that it made you sad, that it made you smile and that you did not feel alive in the contradiction itself. There are many more pieces like this, many more songs that aren't "classical" that evoke this, but I listened to this one tonight, a rainy, cool, cloudy damp night in Toronto and thought somehow we should share it wherever we were.
-s
"from the freecity, no matter how many time we say or remain quiet."
So I waited for the movie to appear on TMN on Demand and it finally did. It was the Soloist, the movie about Nathaniel Ayers, and from what I got from it, the redemtive powers of both music and friendship. Granted there are many things that are wrong with the film and reinforce and confirm my non theatre paying and non rental of the movie by conventional method. The direction is awful, incoherent, choppy and poorly edited. It is also needlessly pompous and self-serving, trying to force higher meaning rather than letting the story allow the emotion to occur naturally. The movie takes shortcuts in the storytelling itself and the ridiculous idea that Robert Downey Jr, from an asthetic purpose could pass for an American born of Spanish and Italian origin is not only laughable but downright insulting at points when you hear the name "Steve Lopez" over and over and see Iron Man, it seems slightly disingenuous. But that really isn't too important. It stops it from being a great and perhaps superb film, but it isn't important.
It isn't important because at the very least and most importantly the core message of the film, that music is vital, vibrant and redemptive, that friendship is vital, vibrant and redemptive, pulses through. Here is the crux, even though RDj plays Steve Lopez, he does such a fine fine job you end up forgetting the absurdity of the a white guy playing some halfway white guy. He makes him human and accessible, he plays him so well he becomes just human. Even better is how beautifully, how touchingly Jaime Foxx plays Nathaniel Ayers. Foxx has to be one of the best actors I have ever seen and if I had paid theatre or rental money for this film it would be worth it for hte performance of Foxx and Downeyjr alone. They make a mediocre-bad movie actually watchable and kind of good.
The movie also got me thinking which is another (plus in its favour) about two things. The first was how close we all are to crazy. And by crazy I do not wish to convey the derogatory. I mean to covey how I grew up and still identify the terminology of crazy - madness. Illness of the mind. I think we are all so close, so precariously close to breaking points each and every day, that it is wonder that we consider ourselves sane and continue to operate in a "normal" fashion. By the same token it is also remarkable that we don't respect the chorus of voices inside our heads perhaps as much as we should, that we try as hard as we can to hut them our, tune them out and distract ourselves from the noise with other noise. Madness it neither a choice nor a solution, it is an acceptance, often a wrenching acceptance, of absurdity, fear and the pressures of living up to our own and the perceived expectations of the world around us. Sometimes, these ideas just hit home a little harder, and tonight was one of those times. There are moments, perhaps small, statistically insignficant moments but personally relevant moments where we teeter on the edge, tremble at our loose footing and feel with all our being the absurdity of our every breath, the madness of our every step. For me the movie really hit home on that level.
The other part of the movie that was so important for me was the music and what it made me articulate to myself. Not just that I love music, love the passion, the desire for and the redemption that music brings. It was something far more tangible and direct.
I love stringed music.
This is something so superficial and exoteric to take from the film, but I am indebted to it for that. It made me realize how much I love stringed instruments, especially cellos, violins and guitars. It then went deeper into how much I love sustained notes. The pull of the note, how it soars and pierces. The note as it moves along, the lingering of a note, the movement and shadow of the linger, how it can cut you so deeply, wound you and still make you smile. For that alone I am so happy to have watched the movie.
So if anything, it should be all over the net or in any library and is probably public domain ...listen to Beethoven's Violin Concerto In D Major, the Allegreto, and I defy you tell to me you did not think of everything in your life, every lingered moment, every bated breath, every rain night and slow sunny day. I defy you tell me you did not for even one moment feel that stab in your chest that you could not place in a definitive moment, but that it made you sad, that it made you smile and that you did not feel alive in the contradiction itself. There are many more pieces like this, many more songs that aren't "classical" that evoke this, but I listened to this one tonight, a rainy, cool, cloudy damp night in Toronto and thought somehow we should share it wherever we were.
-s
"from the freecity, no matter how many time we say or remain quiet."
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
and one night a song sang its way through my memory
it said that "i lived in a devil town, that all my friends were vampires
i looked up then, i looked up for God and i saw nothing
i looked around then, i looked for God and i felt nothing
my years of superstition imposed upon me life some brick curse
how i had hoped to rally, oh how i had hoped to be something more than everything i woke to
every morning
nothing is ever enough, nothing is ever enough, nothing is ever enough
when the rain comes, it pours and soaks you to the gristle of your tired and tested bones
i have given, i am hoarse, i am limping along in sympathy and pity
i am crazy, i am a street corner, i am a test of faith,
necessary to acquire, easy to lose
it said that "i lived in a devil town, that all my friends were vampires
i looked up then, i looked up for God and i saw nothing
i looked around then, i looked for God and i felt nothing
my years of superstition imposed upon me life some brick curse
how i had hoped to rally, oh how i had hoped to be something more than everything i woke to
every morning
nothing is ever enough, nothing is ever enough, nothing is ever enough
when the rain comes, it pours and soaks you to the gristle of your tired and tested bones
i have given, i am hoarse, i am limping along in sympathy and pity
i am crazy, i am a street corner, i am a test of faith,
necessary to acquire, easy to lose
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