Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Luxury Of Self Pity

2nd third of 17th centuryImage via Wikipedia
I have wasted so much of my life feeling sorry for myself. My life is not difficult or arduous and for the most part it has been rather pleasant.

This is not to discount the grief I have encountered along the way. We have all had genuine moments of upheaval.

I'm talking about the pointless pouting about things that don't matter. Rampant self pity is the sad by product of the spoiled world in which we live.

Most of our fellow human beings have neither the time nor the cultural permission to feel the luxury of self pity. They are just trying to figure out how to struggle through another day.

So, if you're feeling sorry for yourself, you should consider yourself lucky. How is that for a conundrum?

http://goyestoeverything.com

Monday, September 28, 2009

Perceived Authority

Mary Hartman, Mary HartmanImage via Wikipedia
When I was eleven years old my parents were pondering a complete change in the direction of their lives. My father was seriously considering moving the family to another city in British Columbia and abandoning his very successful career as a banker. Given that I was eleven years old I was not privy to all the doubt and indesicion that engulfed my parents as they debated their future and my own. But I could feel the spirit of indecision all around me.

One day, I was lazily watching a rerun of The Brady Bunch, The Monkees, or perhaps it was a new episode of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. I don't recall. My father walked into our rumpus room and began trying to convey to me the gravity of the moment, that he and my mother were at a crossroads and seriously did not know what to do.

He then said to me something that I have never forgotten. I paraphrase, but it was essentially this. "You may look at me and believe that I have all the answers, but I don't. You think that grownups have all the answers, but we don't. We don't know anything more than you do about life".

Even at the time, that remark both stunned and informed me, and I am forever grateful to have heard it, and indebted to my father for his stark honesty. That was a teachable moment, and I still carry the lesson to this day.

My father had shattered my blind acceptance of perceived authority and helped me to become a person who questions all authority. I am quite willing to accept the validity of legitimate authority, but in this ever expanding world of fake experts and dubious pundits my fathers sage words continue to serve me well each and every day.

The reason that I bring this up is that in my little social circle I am acquiring some perceived authority of my own through my trip to Ghana and my plans to travel to Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam in mid November.

In theory, I am supposed to take all this perceived authority and use it to promote my website, blogs etc. Other people have done this quite successfully and many of them have the validity to be rightfully referred to as "real travellers" and "experts".

If you want real experts on traveling, here are two of my favourites, here and here

But I am not one of them. I am just a person like yourself, trying to figure things out.

My goal is not to be an expert, but to throw my story out there. In an ideal world, you hear my story, respond to it and share your story with me. I want to hear your story, so that we may learn from each other. Its not about perceived authority, its about honestly recognizing and sharing our common human experience and teaching each other.

As my father said to me all those years ago, " I don't know anything more about life than you do".

As for me, I'm just trying to share my experience. I have no idea what you should do, and only slightly more knowledge regarding what I should do.

www.goyestoeverything.com

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Setting Goals

A view from the West Stand of BMO Field immedi...Image via Wikipedia
I have come late in life to the concept of defining and achieving goals. Perhaps it is just a burgeoning sense of my own mortality, but in the last twelve months I have begun to set objectives for myself.

All of this got me to wondering about what a goal is.

Sometimes my goals are simple, but in my own mind not easy. These are generally day to day goals like I need to do my laundry, get to the bank, buy cat food etc. They sound simple, but they can seem like giant mountains sometimes.

Sometimes my goals are very complex and not even entirely clear to me when I first set out to achieve them.

When I define my goals, I try to find the right balance between challenge and attainability.

If my goal is easy to achieve, it will not satisfy. (please distinguish between simple and easy, the two are not the same)

If my goal is to fly to the moon on homemade wings, it lacks attainability.

Having said that, I did accomplish one very big, yet very simple goal today. More on that later.

www.goyestoeverything.com

Friday, September 25, 2009

8 tips for Cambodian travel

A man and a woman holding handsImage via Wikipedia
  • Your child may be pinched. Cambodians show affection for children by pinching them.
  • If you see a funeral procession, it is considered good fortune as the deceased may see you on their journey and put in a good word for you with the spirits.
  • When in Cambodia, you might want to consider staying on the beaten path. Also if you see anything metallic on the ground do not pick it up. There are a lot of unexploded mines about.
  • In rural areas, you may have to use the woods as a toilet, which kind of conflicts with the importance of staying on the beaten path mentioned above. Does a Greg shit in the woods? I don't think so.
  • Public displays of affection are offensive, even among married people, though it is quite acceptable for people of the same sex to hold hands in public.
  • There is no law against homosexuality in Cambodia, so in an odd way, same sex couples can be more open in public than straight people can, though the greatest restraint beyond holding hands is strongly advised.
  • Shorts may be tolerated in some tourist areas, but conservative dress is the norm. No shorts or bare shoulders in the temples.
  • Cambodians swim in their clothes. This is not thong country.
www.goyestoeverything.com

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Be A Believer

The Apollo 11 crew portrait. Left to right are...Image via Wikipedia
In the days prior to my trip to Africa, I began investing heavily in my own disbelief that something that I had planned was about to come to fruition.

I had spent many years dreaming about taking a trip to Africa, and many months researching the journey. Yet, in the days before leaving, I lost all faith in the groundwork I had done and went into "disbelief mode".

As the reality drew near, my own disbelief increased. When I told people where I was going, and that I was traveling by myself more than a few looked at me as if I was Neil Armstrong.

This only made my own disbelief worse and I began to panic about everything that could go wrong, to the point that as I was driven to the airport, I could barely speak.

I had fully embraced scarcity and abandoned abundance. I had thrown away all the empowerment that I had earned through countless hours of research.

By the time I had been dropped off at the airport in Toronto, my dream trip of a lifetime was feeling more like a monster that I had to slay, something that I had to get through. I was letting disbelief and doubt rule the day, and I was paying a heavy price for my foolishness.

Once I cleared customs in Toronto, all of it melted away. I let go of the scarcity that I was clinging to and realized that whatever the road ahead contained didn't matter, because I was now on that road and there was no turning back.

During the long journey trust began to envelope worry. I had made informed decisions that put me on the path I was on and that the unknown is not something that should be automatically feared.

I wasn't Neil Armstrong, I was doing something that a lot of people do everyday.

When I arrived at the airport in Accra and I saw the sign that I had seen in so many pictures on the internet, I teared up a little. The sign says "Akwaaba" which means welcome in Twi. I had achieved a goal in spite of my own disbelief.

My last moments of doubt evaporated when my checked through bag finally came off the plane, the guy at customs sent a line cutter back to wave me in, and the hotel I booked had a driver waiting to pick me up, as promised.

Each moment after that was pure wonder. I look back and laugh at my pointless anxiety. I knew what I was doing, but I didn't fully trust myself. Someday I'll figure it out.

www.goyestoeverything.com

Monday, September 21, 2009

Lets Get Technical,Technical

Villaggio nella savana - Bula - Guinea-BissauImage via Wikipedia
Since my first blog post, I have learned a lot about blogging. I have been a voracious reader of all the information regarding blogs. My whole approach is too general. I shouldn't be blogging about the things that I experience, but I should be blogging about how to configure a Sony Ericsson G750 world phone for proper use in Guinea Bissau.

My lack of specificity destroys even a modest hope of success, and I have come to terms with that. On the upside, I have learned a lot about the art of social networking, and have built a little system of sorts.

First, I have a website. This website is fairly sparse, except that it acts as a hub for displaying anything that I have posted at any of my five active blogs and also displays anything that I tweet. It is also the marquee for my brand, goyestoeverything.com. But this is really just the storefront, the actual meat is in the five blogs.

When I post a blog, it is automatically reposted on my facebook page. I then use my bit.ly account to post to my twitter account. Using bit.ly allows me to post to twitter, while taking advantage of two things that bit.ly offers. First is the ability to shorten URL's so that I have more room to tweet, the second is that bit.ly allows me to see how many hits my tweet is getting and where those hits are coming from.

I have also tied in my myspace account so that any tweets are reflected in my status on myspace. Its a pretty clever system if I do say so myself.

I post a blog, and then use bit.ly to tweet about it. Through these two acts I update my blog, my website, facebook, myspace and twitter.

Now if only my content was niche enough to have some success. Oh well........ live and learn

Stealing My Thunder

Frank Zappa Plays the Music of Frank Zappa: A ...Image via Wikipedia
Admit it. You've done it. You've searched your own name in google. Perhaps to see if you show up anywhere, or to find out who your moniker dopplegangers are.

Recently I did the self search and I realized that there is a lot of competition for the "Greg Stock" brand.

There is twitter me . Lets face it, this guy is good looking. No wonder I'm not getting any.

Then there is biophysicist me.

This explains why all my efforts to break into biophysicism have been thwarted over the years.

That is OK, maybe I'll break into high tech. After all, I do have a blog AND I've had an email address for several years. What more could there be? Believe me, I know high tech. But no, this guy beat me to the punch .

Perhaps, I'll resign myself to my fate, and be just another shmoe, but even that is taken.

I'm starting to understand why Frank Zappa named his daughter Moon Unit. If only my parents had had such vision.

www.goyestoeverything.com

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Danforth Nature Scene

The great thing about living in Canada is you get to experience a lot of nature.

For instance, this picture is a bird that I saw at Pape and Danforth. Actually, on The Danforth, or rather "In" The Danforth.

The bird had been hit by a car, and then run over so many times that it had been flattened to the pavement.

I know that it is an awful image, but I edited it as an homage to the bird, an expression that its death did not go unnoticed, if only in my own eyes.

And while some may see a bird squished on the highway, I see a being ascending to the cosmos.

My apologies to Miss Jocund, but all living things deserve respect, especially in death.

goyestoeverything.com

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Grudge not, lest you begrudged

“Can You Forgive Her?” coverImage via Wikipedia
Grudges, most of us have them. I know I do. I've got a few real big ones that I carry around on my shoulders each and every day. Despite the heavy weight of these grudges, I've had them for a long while, and over the course of time, we have become friends.

I carry other grudges around with me, but these are smaller. They fit neatly into my back pocket and the inventory tends to ebb and recede. These grudges exist on a rotating basis and have worn themselves into the flexible pattern of my day to day life. I like to keep them handy so that I may pull them out, like so many go into jail free cards, as I go through my day to day endeavours. These back pocket grudges are something I use regularly, to ward off the grudged.

A grudge is little more than unresolved anger that is held onto for the purpose of expressing our own anger at the fact that we feel we have not received proper redress for a perceived offense.

Not everything is forgivable, or rather the bestowing of forgiveness in extreme cases is a deeply personal choice. Some grudges are fully justified, but most aren't.

As you read this, chances are that you are thinking about some petty stupid grudge of your own. Don't hang onto this, resolve it. The fact about carrying grudges is that they extract a cost to yourself.

I should go now, because I just realized that I need to email a long lost friend. Blogger, heal thyself.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/8262040.stm

www.goyestoeverything.com

Fighting For Peace???

George Harrison visiting the Oval Office in 1974Image via Wikipedia
Tonight I came across a street poster for TPFF. No thats not a typo I meant TPFF not TIFF.

I do not pretend to be an expert on the complexities of Middle Eastern politics, but I will say this. TIFF strives mightily to showcase the best films from around the globe and the films in the controversial City To City program are being widely praised. Cameron Bailey has been widely vindicated by the critics.

I applaud the TPFF, it seems that they have a positive attitude to all this, and their festival is a constructive response to the entire issue. I hope all the people who signed the petition will be in attendance to show their support. Chances are they won't, cos that would take some actual effort beyond entering some text on a keyboard.

They should however, invite some people from TIFF. I have a feeling that the bigwigs at TIFF would be honoured to be invited and delighted to attend.

All of this reminded me of the self serving nature of modern protest and how protesting has become an industry of sorts.

In the 60's protest was far more effective for two reasons

1. Demographics - lots of young people who were wealthy enough that they could consider the plight of others. This is no longer the case.

2. A machine that was utterly unprepared to deal with the sheer numbers. This is no longer the case. The machine is now well prepared to respond on the ground and in the media.

For the most part, protesting now exists so that people may feel that their voice is important. I've got news for you - your voice isn't important. What is important is hard work through engaging the machine, rather than shaking your fist at it. The best path to progress is using the rights that are entrenched to us by engaging the legal system.

This route however is very long, arduous, and boring and is notoriously averse to good photo opps.

I am reminded of Ken Kesey who was once asked to speak at a high powered Anti Vietnam War Rally.

Basically he told the crowd that their protests were useless and that by protesting they were invigorating the enemy. He said to the crowd " The best thing you can do is say fuck it and walk away". Needless to say this didn't go over well with a crowd that had heavily invested themselves in shaking their fists.

It also brought to mind the response that George Harrison had when asked why The Beatles didn't protest more about about the Vietnam War.

Mr. Harrison responded that The Beatles didn't want to engage the argument, but that they wanted to offer themselves "as an alternative to it".

I applaud the folks at TPFF.ca and I will definitely be attending their festival. You should, too.

As for those who want to use anger to advance their cause, I am reminded of some graffiti I read years ago. "Fighting For Peace Is Like Fucking For Virginity"

I can't top that.

www.goyestoeverything.com

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Shiny Happy People

Iao Theater Box Office.Image via Wikipedia
Sometimes we have selective memories. In both my jobs I deal with a large volume of people on a regular basis.

This is especially true at TIFF, simply due to the size and scope of the event. On some days we have thousands of people passing through the public box office and once the festival opens we deal with an average of 20,000 plus attendees per day attending an average of seventy events at locations throughout the city.

When you are dealing in these volumes, there are going to be some people that have fully committed to perceiving their lives as nothing more than one giant inconvenience.

I encountered one such gentleman who insisted that I should stop taking care of a lady who had a slightly perplexing problem that required a phone call to resolve, and thus held the line up for a few extra minutes.

The basis of his logic was that I should drop what I was doing and take care of him, because what he needed was going to take less time. He then bellowed at me that he was illegally parked!

In the calmest voice I could muster, I told him that his nefarious parking habits were none of my concern, and that if he was in favour of a system whereby people were ranked as to the length of time that it would take to serve them, I would be glad to canvas the entire lineup so I could rank people thusly. Could you possibly wait an hour or two while I do that?

Next was a women whose type I have seen time and again. In my experience these are the people that I am most wary of. I call them the "ladder climbers". Inevitably, this demographic is in the 32 - 49 bracket and they have committed every essence of their being to carreering, and they have achieved some success. They have sport utes, a blind allegiance to whatever massive corporation they toil for, and a mortgage in Oakville or some such other car required locale, where the only minority in the area is the Pizza Pizza delivery guy.

Anyway, this particular woman opened with a possibly legitimate complaint that she had not been emailed. I apologize if there was a glitch, but you're here now so lets move forward, shall we? She then went on to explain that this made a big problem for her as she was holidaying in Greece and not getting her email results was a very huge problem. Again I tried to convince her that we should accept the past and make the best of the present. It was then that she made her first of four statements that she spends a lot of money at this festival.

By the fourth time that I heard how much she spent at this festival, I told her that attendance was not a requirement, and that I would be happy to refund her entire investment and cancel her account with TIFF. She then claimed that she didn't have time for this, as she had an important conference call.

I don't know about you, but to me the almost very last thing that would give me a sense of urgency when I am trying to help someone is their pleading that they have a confernce call scheduled. This is the filmfest version of "my dog ate my homework".

Anyway, it took all of ten minutes to fix this problem, but I had to endure one last eyeroll when I told her that she would have to step into another line, which was all of two minutes long. I then watched her tie up one of our cashiers for forty five minutes. Guess that conference call wasn't that urgent.

Yeah, I know, your life couldn't get any more difficult. But actually it could, and you will never get to that realization until you pull your head out of your self absorbed ass.

My third example of people who made my head explode is the guy who showed up complaining vehemently about the length of the lineup and how we were stupid and didn't know what we were doing, then failed to meet any of the clearly stated requirements for picking up tickets. I explained to him that part of the reason the lineups are long is that there are people like himself in them.

Having said all that, I must admit that most of the people who attend this divine madness are in fact patient, polite and generally awesome.

It seems to me that an unfortunate fact of life is that the human mind tends to gravitate towards remembering the negative experience over the positive one, in all contrast to the reality before us.

www.goyestoeverything.com


Monday, September 14, 2009

The Smilin' Buddha Cabaret



In Vancouver in the early 80's a nihilist post punk scene was emerging, inspired by the rawness of The Sex Pistols, The Ramones and many others. At that time The Pacific Northwest was rife with clubs that were 60's icons that had faded badly in the 70's and were hungry enough and divey enough and cheap enough to make the perfect venue for a burgeoning grassroots music scene.

The Smilin'Buddha Cabaret was one such place.

This whole scene is brilliantly captured in the Bruce McDonald film Hard Core Logo.

This place was the CBGBs of Vancouver, a punk hang out from the late 1970s. DOA, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Subhumans, Vice Squad, MIA, Stretchmarks — so many played in this tiny club on Vancouver's Skid Row. It was also the first gig that my faves 5440 ever played. It closed in 1989.

In one memorable prank someone I know was convinced that it was going to be a costume party at the Smilin' Buddha and showed up for a DOA show in a bunny suit. Good one!

The clubs location had always been dodgy, located at the most derelict location in North America, Vancouver's infamous Main and Hastings

One night in the mid eighties, I ended up at the Smilin Buddha, to see some long ago forgotten band. Clearly by now the punk revival had long receded and the joint was nothing more than a haven for the strung out and the desperate. Clearly any cache that the place had was well past the verge of extinction.

Back in those days you could get "off sales" at bars in British Columbia. This meant that you could get beer to go for a premium price until 2:45 in the morning at any bar that was licenced for off sales.

Around midnight, I began to realize that the band wasn't coming back for another set (perhaps they knew the importance of getting out of Dodge early) and I found my self engulfed by people so dodgy that they would freak out Tom Waits.

It was time for me to go. I grabbed a six pack from the bartender and made my way out of the bar and onto Hastings street. I turned the corner just west of the bar, to head into Gastown to get a cab. I didn't get far.

I remember someone trying to grab the beer from me. As soon as I resisted someone struck me in the face, causing my glasses to fly off. I heard a voice say "get his wallet" (which contained about six bucks as I recall) I had fought the attackers off, but I it began to dawn on me that I had been severely injured.

I had been knifed in the face.

My lower lip had been sliced in half to the point that I had to hold it in place to keep it from touching the bottom of my chin

Blinded without my glasses and with blood spewing forth I begged someone to get a cop. God bless whoever did that, and given the reputation of the hood the cops were there in a minute or two.

In that minute or two, it crossed my mind that this might be the end. I had THAT moment when I thought that I might die here. My first thought was what a stupid way to die. My second thought was about my family and how much I loved them and how lucky I was.

The police found my glasses and called an ambulance immediately. Inside the ambulance I remember asking the paramedic "how bad is it?" and imploring him to give me an honest answer. "Its pretty bad," he said.

By now, I was in shock. The magnitude of what had just happened to me began to dawn as we pulled into the emergency at Saint Paul's hospital in the West End of Vancouver.

I was wheeled in on a gurney and examined immediately. I remember hearing one nurse say "Should we wait for Plastics?" It was agreed that I would have to lay there for about six hours until the plastic surgeon arrived at 7am. Oddly, I refused the nurse who offered something for the tremendous pain I was in.

In the interim the hospital called my roommate and my brother. I was inconsolable in the hospital when my roommate showed up. I've always been impressed by what he said to me next. In the calmest voice he said "the healing starts now".

A short while later, my brother and his girlfriend showed up. I laughed at the fact that my brothers girlfriend couldn't stand hospitals and that she looked almost as bad as I did. How sweet is that?

Eventually plastics arrived, and my face was sown up. I was released at around 9am. I remember people staring at me as I walked the few blocks home with my stitched up lower lip swollen to ten times its normal size. Throw in the bloodsoaked sweater and I must have been quite a sight.

I got home, lit a smoke, and put on the Beatles Blackbird. "take these sunken eyes and learn to see". Then I cried. I cried a lot.

www.goyestoeverything.com

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Gratitude or lack thereof

{{PAGENAME}}Image via Wikipedia
After I returned from my trip to Ghana, I was deeply dismayed by the demeanour of my fellow citizens ( and myself ) and the spoiled sense of entitlement that WE ALL have. I was also struck by the petty anger that seems to be the pathetic throughline of our national identity.

Make no mistake, most of us are decent people who would like to do the right thing. However,our perspective and lack of appreciation that we have for our privileged place in the world is turning us into a society of spoiled babies.

Anyone who is reading this is among the top one or two percentile of all the human beings that have ever walked the face of the earth. Ya might wanna consider that before you send your eggs back for not being over medium.

Look around you, appreciate how wonderful things are for us, and take a moment to consider the fact that you could have been born into a less desirable space. After all, most of the world lives with a reality far more bleak than our own.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Mr. Magoo Meets His First TIFF Celeb

Alice Cooper, American rock singer.Image via Wikipedia
So tonight was my first shift at one of the Toronto International Film Festival venues. I was nervous going in, it has been a few years since I worked on the public side. I kept invoking my mantra that I use in these situations - "things are not necessarily difficult, simply unfamiliar".

Generally, things went well, and I have to give a lot of respect to Helen and Freya for staying calm in a situation that was far more unfamiliar to them than it was to me.

I began to realize that the source of my nervousness was that I had no "Mommy" or "Daddy" to help me out. The next realization was that I had somehow become "Daddy" and it was up to me to help others out, and to answer the questions that they couldn't answer. Just like a real parent, I know that I don't have all the answers, but for the sake of the kids I have to come up with something.

Generally things went very well and nothing came up that couldn't be dealt with, and I remembered the importance of staying calm, so as not to upset the kids.

Our final screening was a film called Suck. Described as a Canadian rock and roll vampire comedy, it was not really my kind of flick, so I hadn't even bothered to look it up in the phonebook known as the TIFF Program Guide.

However, the film had generated lots of interest, to the point where it had gone "Rush Only" or standby in the more common vernacular.

Just prior to screening time a couple approached the box office seeking tickets. The man was kind of scraggly and smallish, the woman striking in "rocker" attire without being trashy. I was immediately struck by how gentle, respectful and polite they both were as they inquired about purchasing tickets.

The lady working the box office explained that they would have to get in the standby line located downstairs and outside at the east end of the building. It was only then that they mentioned that they were in the film, and I was summoned to deal with this situation. (I'm a big believer in letting others try to solve problems before stepping in, but thats a whole other post).

I asked them both to step aside while I looked into the situation. Again, they both were incredibly gracious and thanked me as they stepped aside. I found the person who deals with talent and they were whisked past us while thanking us yet again for our assistance.

I thought to myself "if only everybody who attends this festival could be so polite, calm, and gracious".

Later one of the box office people looked up the film in the guidebook, and there in the picture was none other than the guy that we had helped get in to the film. Turns out it was some musician by the name of Alice Cooper. Perhaps you've heard of him?

This is typical of many of my celebrity encounters at TIFF. I often don't realize who I am talking to until after the fact.

Anyway, I must doff my cap to Mr. Cooper. He and the lady he was with set a new standard for humility, politeness, and patience among TIFF celebs. Alice Cooper is a true gentleman, and a kick ass king of rock and roll!

http://goyestoeverything.com

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

4....3....2...1...

Box office at the Manulife Centre for the Toro...Image via Wikipedia
So today is launch day. This is the culmination of work that begins only weeks after the last TIFF. For me, I jumped on the train in early July. While I have nothing to do with the content of the event, I do help the powers that be execute the event, alongside a great many others.

I'm reminded of the image of Mission Control, with a bunch of people behind computers launching an Apollo or Shuttle mission. For the next ten days we will watch this thing soar through the sky, while praying that nothing brings it crashing down to earth.

Make no mistake, there will be minor glitches on a personal level for a few attendees. Relax, we will do our best to live up to our commitment to you.

Over the next ten days the people of Toronto will have the opportunity to witness many aspects of the human experience as perceived by filmakers from around the globe. TIFF can teach us a lot about ourselves.

With all due respect, don't waste your time on the George Clooney film. Go see that flick from Vietnam that you will never have the chance to see again. That is the true beauty of TIFF.

Now lets light this candle, shall we?

Sunday, September 6, 2009

John Greyson Posts Flick Pulled From TIFF

John Greyson has posted his short film "Covered", the most famous film not playing at TIFF this year. It will be available for viewing for the duration of The Toronto International Film Festival.



Covered from John Greyson on Vimeo.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Controversy Erupts At The Toronto International Film Festival

Multimodal traffic in Tel Aviv includes pedest...Image via Wikipedia
The commentary below is a personal opinion, and in no way reflects the views of The Toronto International Film Festival or any of its sponsors.

A few years ago, I worked an event at TIFF that was at the centre of a controversy regarding free speech and the ethics of showing animal cruelty.

The film in question was titled Casuistry: The Art Of Killing A Cat. The premise of the film was to examine an incident that had taken place here in Toronto a few years previous.

Three OCAD students had decided to torture a cat to death, film it and submit it as a project in the course of their studies. When the denizens of Toronto were made aware of this incident, we quite properly recoiled at this heinous disregard for the dignity of a living thing, and we wondered how such a perverted act could be interpreted as art by anybody.

The incident did, however, raise some interesting questions, which led to the making of Casuistry, the most central of which is " why are we outraged by the abuse of some animals, but have so little concern about the welfare of animals that are raised to be killed and consumed by carnivores?". (note: I am a person who eats meat) .

Not only were these douchebags convicted in the court of public opinion, they were charged and convicted in criminal court, and in my opinion, rightfully so.

However it is in the furor that followed that absurdity raised its laughable head. When TIFF announced this film would screen at the festival, confusion and misinformation reigned, and the perception was that TIFF was glorifying this abhorrent act.

Many people wrongly believed that Casuistry was that actual film made by these three douchebags. (ya know, like the hijackers were all from Iraq, and they entered from Canada). It wasn't, nor did it contain any footage from that film.

Nonetheless, the flame had been lit under the asses of those who have committed their lives to the cause of moral outrage, and the stage was set for a protest that would make Casuistry the most interesting screening at the fest, even if it wasn't the most interesting film.

When I learned that I had been scheduled to work the premiere of this film, I was elated. With typical decency, my bosses at TIFF offered an out to anyone who was uncomfortable working this screening. I told them that I wouldn't miss it for the world.

On the day of the screening I arrived to see the sidewalks filled with peaceful protesters and a significant police presence. As I stood outside the theatre I noticed a child of six or seven glaring at me with all the hate he could muster, as if I was the one who had tortured a cat. I shook my head with pity for him and despair that his parents were training him to live an outraged life.

While watching all this, a member of the media approached me and asked what I thought about the scene before us. I told him that I was proud that TIFF was screening this film in the face of some oppossition. He then asked what I thought about the protesters across the street. I said that while I did not agree with their position, I embraced their right to be there.

I had also been defending TIFF to some of my outraged cat loving friends. I generally believe that censorship is far more dangerous than anything a film could contain. To those who would argue with me, I would answer thusly: "Are you suggesting that TIFF shouldn't screen films about the worst aspects of the human experience?" "Should TIFF not show films about The Holocaust or Rwanda or The Khmer Rouge because it shines a light on the perpetrators?"

At the premiere of the film, one of the three douchebags who made the cat killing video decided that it would be a good idea to show up at the screening of this film about his film. As he arrived, I heard a howl of outrage rise from the angered crowd. For his own protection, and in the interest of public safety, the Toronto Police arrested and detained him for several hours. Civil rights be damned, sometimes pragmatism should rule the day.

Being one of the few who actually bothered to inform themselves by viewing this film, I was struck by the absurdity that the message I took from the film was an elevated awareness of the cruelty that I embrace when I eat meat, which was pretty much the same message as the protesters outside.

All of which leads me to this years brewing controversy. For the first time TIFF is running a program called City To City . The city that is being featured is Tel Aviv .

The first sign of trouble came when I logged in to my work computer and saw a note mentioning that John Greyson had pulled his short film "Covered" from the festival.

Since then, an online petition has emerged, signed by a number of prominent artists. The basis of this protest is that the films selected present a pro Israeli view, that does not accurately reflect the true story of the city.

Cameron Bailey who programmed the City To City festival has responded to the criticism.

I am not sure what to make of all this, but just like Casuistry, I want these films to be screened and I encourage the protesters to get their message out there peaceably. This could lead to dialogue and hopefully understanding.

Great filmaking reflects ourselves, and I think that each year TIFF strives to present a snapshot of the entire human experience. Perhaps this dispute will lead to a teachable moment for all of us.

www.goyestoeverything.com

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

The Cost Of Anger

Street Sign for Bloor Street West, near St Geo...Image via Wikipedia
Everytime I get angry, I feel awful afterwards. It matters not whether my anger is justified (usually not), the emptiness and despair that I feel after never justifies the action.

A few years ago, I met a Japanese chef, who is still a friend to this day. This fellow was (and is) a brilliant chef. We met while working together in an ill fated Japanese/Western fusion restaurant that opened exactly at the moment that SARS hit Toronto. Throw in a bad basement location and you have a recipe for a financial bleeding that is only stemmed when the owner says enough, which he eventually did.

I have worked in a lot of high end restaurants in my day, but I was particularly taken by the gentle nature of this head chef, and how he lead by quiet example There was no screaming in his kitchen and an air of respect prevailed, it was very refreshing when compared with some of the angry Diva Prima Donnas that I had to deal with at times ( other exceptions Chef Sam Gassira and the whole crew at Bellini's , most of whom were from Bangladesh)

Later this chef and I became roomates for a couple of years. I began to realise that the source of his demeanour was not just the famous politeness of Japanese culture, nor was it the Bhuddist teachings of his upbringing.

He had found something deeper within himself that informed his identity. He had come to the realisation that anger was nothing but a useless cancer. While it is one thing to know that, it is quite another to live it.

I am slowly learning to realise that the source of my anger is my own inability to communicate to others small annoyances, which I then let fester silently over time until they become outbursts.

Another universal aspect of anger is exaggeration. When we are in anger, we exaggerate the level of offence being committed against us, so as to justify our response.

As an example, lets say that you are driving down the highway and someone cuts you off, causing you to have to hit the brakes unexpectedly. While this is a dangerous situation, when you tell someone you will exaggerate it to justify your anger.

You will not tell your story thusly, "another person dangerously cut me off on the freeway, which caused me to slow down in an unsafe fashion".

You are far more likely to say "some asshole cut me off and almost killed me!". This makes for a better story, and also justifies your anger at the fact that someone has acted with little regard for others (in this case the "others" being you).

All of which brings me to this appalling story in the Toronto Star.

Henry Stancu
Staff Reporter

A cyclist was killed last night after hanging onto a fleeing car following a collision on Bloor St. near Bay St.

Toronto police arrested a driver after the car was seen pulling into the Park Hyatt hotel on Avenue Rd.

Witnesses told police the cyclist collided with a black Saab on Bloor at Bay about 9:45 p.m. They said he hung onto the driver's side of the car, which had its convertible top down, while the driver yelled at him to get off.

The driver then veered onto the eastbound lanes and mounted the curb, brushing against trees and poles, witnesses said.

"He was driving on the wrong side of the street and up on the curb trying to knock him off the car for about 100 metres, said Ryan Brazeau, a worker with a crew laying sewer pipes on Bloor. "Lots of people were watching and they couldn't believe what was happening."

As the car approached Avenue Rd., the cyclist fell off. He and his bike were dragged before he was run over by the rear wheels.

He was taken to St. Michael's Hospital with severe head injuries. (Note He later died of his injuries)


Two things shocked me about this story.

The first is the fact that some minor traffic quibble could have such tragic consequences.

The second is that the guy driving the vehicle is Michael Bryant, the former Attorney-General of Ontario, and current head of InvestToronto, a city run agency to promote investment in the city.

Nice work, gentlemen. Your stupid anger has left one of you dead and the other with a stellar career and life in ruins. I suspect that Mr. Bryant is feeling even more awful than I do when I get angry, as he sits in jail awaiting bail.

Its not worth it, and let this cautionary tale be a lesson to all of us as we navigate our day to day lives in these urban environs.

How Not To Write About Africa