Somewhere in the world, tax $ is put to good use...

I think that the time has finally come for me to pick up and move to Paris.

In Toronto, the astronomical taxes I pay are put towards the placement of advertisements on streetcars telling me how "stupid" I am, whereas in Paris they would go towards this - an actual, proper, complete beach in the middle of the city!

The injustices of the world are sometimes too much to bear, are they not?

Photo credit: www.linternaute.com

Relationships.

Warning: this is the most personal of all blog entries thus far, like a disgusting diary entry of a heartsick fifteen year-old, and therefore this - or parts of this - may be deleted later.

Specifically, I'm thinking about relationships of a romantic nature; a lot of hard work, and generally they either make your heart soar or make it hurt, there's rarely an in-between.

Just to give a bit of perspective on this entry: currently, my heart hurts. Although I am gutted, I am able to recognize that feeling this way is a conscious decision that I am making - to sit here: text messaging into a black hole of non-replies, drinking, wallowing, and chain smoking = all MY decision, whether I enjoy it or not.

But the question is this: are these behaviours constructive in any way? To ignore one's instinct to self-preserve and endure is, from a certain perspective, one of the most inhumane propositions - and yet it also seems to be perhaps the most distinctly human of conditions, particularly to us humans who find ourselves in relationships (or what can be theoretically quantified as such).

Because really, what is a relationship to begin with? Do we not have 'relationships' with virtually everyone we encounter? For example, it's obvious that my relationship with my regular baristas is far more superficial and extraneous than my relationship with my brother, but it is difficult to say that one relationship qualifies to be called such and the other does not (particularly considering I now see the regular baristas far more than my own brother).

The point is this: the only relationships which seem to cause people true anguish are those that they are the most emotionally invested in. WHY do humans have this inarguable instinct towards feeling this anguish? When we emotionally invest ourselves in something (or, more damningly, someone), we know, either consciously or subconsciously, that to do so is to virtually guarantee that that horrible feeling in the chest will occur at some point or another. But we continue to do so, continue to breathe, continue to self-destruct, continue to recover, and continue to repeat, all the while knowing the hatred of that pain and knowing of its complete inevitability.

All the while, we do not choose to listen to that instinct for preservation - well, maybe some of us do, but they're technically called sociopaths I believe. How simple it would be to maintain those superficial relationships with coffee shops employees and co-workers! In those one cannot feel the gut-wrenching, headache-inducing fervour that only comes with absolute closeness and emotional intimacy with another human being. But those elusive, fantastic moments which the closeness also brings are difficult to reconcile against this and to turn one's back upon, and for that very reason it's impossibly difficult to not strive for that which makes your heart soar...even if it hurts at the same time.

What a fucking messy, lovely, hateful and glorious predicament we are in as a species. If there is anything that unifies the human race (and I'm still not sure that there is), could this be it?

The Verve. Toronto. 1 May 2008.

I just feel as though a post on this is necessary, as The Verve at the Ricoh Coliseum was without a shadow of a doubt the most mind-blowing, visceral concert I've ever attended. From the opener (the absolutely amazing 'Almost There') to the brand-new song closer (I believe it's called 'Love is Noise', but I'm not 100% on that), I have never felt as connected to the music at a gig as I did last Thursday evening.

My only complaint would be the fans. I am developing a horrible attitude towards so-called 'music lovers' in Toronto, who show up to see the greatest band of the 1990's and proceed to sit quietly with their arms folded, devour popcorn and corn dogs as though they're at a hockey game, and exit after the sketchy Ashcroft-penned radio hits are performed. I feel like their dopey-eyed looks, chubby bodies and lifeless, uninspired gestures are actually an insult to the band, as well as to the city of Toronto. I simply wish they would stay at home from now on, because really, they behave as though they're on the couch anyways, so they might as well be there, perhaps even nodding their head dispassionately to Ashcroft's solo garbage?

Finally, I shook Nick McCabe's hand. I think I probably frightened him a little bit, considering I ran up to him shouting and wide-eyed, but seriously, the fact that I shook the hand of one of the most brilliant guitarists of my generation is definitely a defining moment of my existence, and one which will not be easily forgotten.

P.S. I wish I could find a photo to include of the whole band, but turns out the only photos available from that night are of Ashcroft (and a slight few of McCabe). Tis a shame, but at the same time I refuse to waste my time at concerts as superb as this one taking pictures with a useless camera phone or the like as it is, yet again, an insulting move.


Photo credit: ChromeWaves