Thursday, October 1, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
E.K.
EK was in his teens, a young man with a promising life ahead of him. He came from a middle class family and went to a decent school, he was a basketball star and he was at least a little popular... Or so the story goes.
I only met EK after the Accident.
The story goes like this... EK was jumped by a couple of guys and beaten in the head with a baseball bat. EK survived, his mental capacity however did not. EK is now a child in a man's body. EK's brother, while EK was recovering, found the guys that beat him and exacted revenge. He is now in jail for a really long time.
So EK's parents grew to despise their son and EK just ended up roaming the streets talking to everyone. A few times in his life, he fell in with the wrong crowd, pimps and drug dealers would use him to carry money or mule for them because the cops would never arrest EK and because he was big, strong, loyal and above all not very smart.
Evert now and again, I see EK when I'm driving or walking my dogs and he just comes up and talk to me about random stuff.
"Hey Muchacho you ever been to Compton?"
"No EK, I've never been there... have you?"
"No... it's bad in Compton."
"I know it is EK."
"Hey Muchacho... why is it bad in Compton?"
"People get shot EK, people have no money."
"Why don't people have money in Compton?"
"I'm not sure EK, you should ask them if you go."
"I will ask them when I go... but I'm not going to go. It's bad in Compton."
And so the story goes with EK.
This guys is probably the deepest thinker I know and I'm not even kidding. His innocent childlike reasoning has taken me aback many times with his insanely existential questions about human nature and the goodness of people and with his faith that the city he roams will protect him and provide for him.
So while some see EK and cross the street because they don't want to have a 2 hours conversation and others see him and feel pit; I look at EK and I see the person he is inside: a good man, with a good heart, without an once of malice inside him. He's happy and as I've always said: It's better to be happy and ignorant than be miserable and smart.
I only met EK after the Accident.
The story goes like this... EK was jumped by a couple of guys and beaten in the head with a baseball bat. EK survived, his mental capacity however did not. EK is now a child in a man's body. EK's brother, while EK was recovering, found the guys that beat him and exacted revenge. He is now in jail for a really long time.
So EK's parents grew to despise their son and EK just ended up roaming the streets talking to everyone. A few times in his life, he fell in with the wrong crowd, pimps and drug dealers would use him to carry money or mule for them because the cops would never arrest EK and because he was big, strong, loyal and above all not very smart.
Evert now and again, I see EK when I'm driving or walking my dogs and he just comes up and talk to me about random stuff.
"Hey Muchacho you ever been to Compton?"
"No EK, I've never been there... have you?"
"No... it's bad in Compton."
"I know it is EK."
"Hey Muchacho... why is it bad in Compton?"
"People get shot EK, people have no money."
"Why don't people have money in Compton?"
"I'm not sure EK, you should ask them if you go."
"I will ask them when I go... but I'm not going to go. It's bad in Compton."
And so the story goes with EK.
This guys is probably the deepest thinker I know and I'm not even kidding. His innocent childlike reasoning has taken me aback many times with his insanely existential questions about human nature and the goodness of people and with his faith that the city he roams will protect him and provide for him.
So while some see EK and cross the street because they don't want to have a 2 hours conversation and others see him and feel pit; I look at EK and I see the person he is inside: a good man, with a good heart, without an once of malice inside him. He's happy and as I've always said: It's better to be happy and ignorant than be miserable and smart.
Apology
Well hello again everyone... First off, I'd like to say that for those who are going to read this, I apologize for not posting more often but I just lost track of time and things and work has been getting the better of me.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Old Adidas Project
So after a long weekend of driving everywhere in the damned province, I decided to reward myself with a new pair of Adidas. This brings about the official retirement of my old Adidas as my everyday shoes.
Meaning that as of right now I would like to launch a project (that probably won't catch on) but here it is anyways:
The Old Adidas Project:
- Email me: oldadidas@gmail.com and give me your name/pseudonym and an address where I can post my shoes.
- I will send you my old Adidas and all I ask is that you take a picture of the Adidas somewhere in your surroundings, your city, your travels and that you post them back to me along with your story.
- Once I have a few stories I will start a new blog detailing the new adventures of my old and well traveled shoes.
- (Don't worry they don't smell)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Memories of a School Shooting
3 years ago tomorrow will mark the anniversary of the death of Anastasia De Sousa, a first year student at Dawson college who had started school just a few days earlier.
I had my little cousin living with me at the time, he was from the country and wanted to come to the city to attend college, so he chose Dawson because it's the city's largest English college and is in the heart of the city. So, like Anastasia, he was also a first year student.
I remember it like it was yesterday...
I was sitting at the office when the rumors started, something was happening at at Dawson. People checked the news websites, listened to the radio but all you would hear was "Police officers entered Dawson college..." And this, in a city the size of Montreal is nothing to worry about, it happens often enough.
Then, a woman that I worked with came into my office and said: "... They're reporting that there's been gunfire at Dawson..."
I picked up my bag, I tried calling someone I knew who worked near Dawson to confirm, but I got no answer.
I picked up my things and ran down the street to the metro station. To get to Dawson from my office I had to go 4 metro stations on the orange line and then change to the green line and go 1 station. But when I got inside the metro station I heard an announcement saying that the green line was closed to a police intervention.
So I ran, in my suit, my dress shoes, my tie worrying sick. I ran up Beaver Hall hill, all the way to Maisonneuve and ran the 18 or so major blocks to Dawson college.
Along the way the street was full of people running away from the very Place I was going, tears running down their faces or in various states of shock. I kept asking people what had happened. I got a few different versions. But the consensus was this: A guy came into the school with handguns and an automatic weapon and opened fire and was now in the middle of a showdown with Montreal Police.
So I ran as fast as I could making my way through the crowd, searching and searching for my little cousin's face. Hoping that he hadn't been shot on his first week in the city.
Finally I found him, and a group of his friends, among the thousands that were now in the streets of downtown. I took him and his friends to a nearby coffee shop and had them call all of their parents to tell them they were safe.
That night my cousin and I were sitting in my kitchen drinking a beer and he cried. Many nights after that he cried, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't talk about it. Being trapped in a school with bullets flying, with a child dying, being trapped and not knowing why this is happening or if you're going to make it out.
In the end he did escape; but in the end for him and many Dawson students they will never escape the memory of that day and even if they weren't physically injured by the gunman, a little part of their souls will be scarred forever.
I had my little cousin living with me at the time, he was from the country and wanted to come to the city to attend college, so he chose Dawson because it's the city's largest English college and is in the heart of the city. So, like Anastasia, he was also a first year student.
I remember it like it was yesterday...
I was sitting at the office when the rumors started, something was happening at at Dawson. People checked the news websites, listened to the radio but all you would hear was "Police officers entered Dawson college..." And this, in a city the size of Montreal is nothing to worry about, it happens often enough.
Then, a woman that I worked with came into my office and said: "... They're reporting that there's been gunfire at Dawson..."
I picked up my bag, I tried calling someone I knew who worked near Dawson to confirm, but I got no answer.
I picked up my things and ran down the street to the metro station. To get to Dawson from my office I had to go 4 metro stations on the orange line and then change to the green line and go 1 station. But when I got inside the metro station I heard an announcement saying that the green line was closed to a police intervention.
So I ran, in my suit, my dress shoes, my tie worrying sick. I ran up Beaver Hall hill, all the way to Maisonneuve and ran the 18 or so major blocks to Dawson college.
Along the way the street was full of people running away from the very Place I was going, tears running down their faces or in various states of shock. I kept asking people what had happened. I got a few different versions. But the consensus was this: A guy came into the school with handguns and an automatic weapon and opened fire and was now in the middle of a showdown with Montreal Police.
So I ran as fast as I could making my way through the crowd, searching and searching for my little cousin's face. Hoping that he hadn't been shot on his first week in the city.
Finally I found him, and a group of his friends, among the thousands that were now in the streets of downtown. I took him and his friends to a nearby coffee shop and had them call all of their parents to tell them they were safe.
That night my cousin and I were sitting in my kitchen drinking a beer and he cried. Many nights after that he cried, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't talk about it. Being trapped in a school with bullets flying, with a child dying, being trapped and not knowing why this is happening or if you're going to make it out.
In the end he did escape; but in the end for him and many Dawson students they will never escape the memory of that day and even if they weren't physically injured by the gunman, a little part of their souls will be scarred forever.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Police Called Because Man didn't Speak French.
Yet another blow to my fair city... A foreign student studying in a Master's program at Concordia University was the latest victim in Montreal's ongoing and everlasting language war...
He got on the 66 bus in NDG (a mostly English neighborhood) to make his way to school, he asked the bus driver what time it was in English (as he doesn't speak French) she answered in French. When he told her that he didn't understand and that he didn't speak French, she told him that she didn't speak English. To which he answered something along the lines of: I can see that.
After which the bus driver pressed the emergency Police call button reserved for dealing with dangerous and aggressive passengers, locking the bus and forcing the confused man to wait for the police. No charges were laid against the man and I've to find a comment anywhere from the STM (Montreal Public Transit Authority) anywhere.
This really makes me ashamed, I mean really ashamed that an employee that is paid with my tax dollars does not have to speak both official languages, does not have to answer to anyone for her actions and can bully people this way. This man who is here from Pakistan to study is fluent in four languages and is on his way to learning French but says he doesn't yet know enough to put a complete sentence together. I know I'm not the only one who's ashamed an witness who was asked by the Montreal Gazette how she felt about it said: “I was so embarrassed. This is the first time I have ever been embarrassed to be a Quebecer. Everyone was outraged over this”
This can't keep happening, this can't keep going on... How long can we possibly continue to live with this hatred and intolerance? What kind of examples are we setting to the for the world, for ourselves and for our children when someone has the police called on him for asking what time it is in English?
He got on the 66 bus in NDG (a mostly English neighborhood) to make his way to school, he asked the bus driver what time it was in English (as he doesn't speak French) she answered in French. When he told her that he didn't understand and that he didn't speak French, she told him that she didn't speak English. To which he answered something along the lines of: I can see that.
After which the bus driver pressed the emergency Police call button reserved for dealing with dangerous and aggressive passengers, locking the bus and forcing the confused man to wait for the police. No charges were laid against the man and I've to find a comment anywhere from the STM (Montreal Public Transit Authority) anywhere.
This really makes me ashamed, I mean really ashamed that an employee that is paid with my tax dollars does not have to speak both official languages, does not have to answer to anyone for her actions and can bully people this way. This man who is here from Pakistan to study is fluent in four languages and is on his way to learning French but says he doesn't yet know enough to put a complete sentence together. I know I'm not the only one who's ashamed an witness who was asked by the Montreal Gazette how she felt about it said: “I was so embarrassed. This is the first time I have ever been embarrassed to be a Quebecer. Everyone was outraged over this”
This can't keep happening, this can't keep going on... How long can we possibly continue to live with this hatred and intolerance? What kind of examples are we setting to the for the world, for ourselves and for our children when someone has the police called on him for asking what time it is in English?
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Cuban Health System
"It was just mentioned to me by our esteemed speaker, 'Did anyone say
anything about the Cuban health system?' And lemme tell ya, before you
say “Oh, it’s a commu–”, you need to go down there and see what Fidel
Castro put in place. And I want you to know, now, you can think whatever
you want to about Fidel Castro, but he was one of the brightest leaders
I have ever met. [APPLAUSE] And you know, the Cuban revolution that
kicked out the wealthy, Che Guevara did that, and then, after they took
over, they went out among the population to find someone who could lead
this new nation, and they found…well, just leave it there (laughs), an
attorney by the name of Fidel Castro…"
Oh man... I came across this video and transcript (thanks Charlie) of a congresswoman from L.A. praising the Cuban Revolution and Fidel Castro stating that he is one of the brightest leaders she's ever met and that the health system in Cuba is one that America should aspire to.
No offense lady, but have you been to a Cuban hospital? I don't mean the nice one for tourists that Michael Moore went to, I meant the "REAL" hospitals that regular every day people go to? Didn't your mother teach you not to be a Communist? Didn't you grow up in the land of opportunity? I bet you never tried to get on a raft made of tires and driftwood to sneak INTO CUBA!
Anyways... Enough said, read the transcript or watch the video and I dare ANY of you to come up with something positive to say about Watson's stance about Castro.
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