| by Fido Dogstoevski Once, the world must have been a better place in which to live - cleaner, safer, more secure. More positive about the future, perhaps even more rational in its thinking. More honest in its approach to life, open to new ideas, unafraid of change. Civilized. Sane - or at least relatively so. Then, something happened... A flurry of unanticipated side-effects brought on by an overdose of you name it - began to cast a glamour or spell upon us. Planet earth, when it was a better place, had its share of troublous wonders, to be sure - the place has never known peace, not as dictionaries define it. Yet it occurs to me we are not so terrified of the threat of nuclear war as we once were. Is this because we've collectively resigned ourselves, subconsciously, to some nebulous idea that nuclear warfare is inevitable? Is that it? Or is it that other, equally insidious fears have multiplied so greatly they've crowded the former out and we simply have no time to dwell on it anymore? The threat hasn't gone away, has it? Today, we seem to be more fearful of one another than of any of our weapons of destruction. And yet this may be the cause of a far greater destruction, albeit of an entirely different sort. At least, when we had suffered from nuclearphobia - we, as a rule, did not lay blame at the feet of our neighbour. We did not call him names or seek ways to defend ourselves from him. Certainly, if bombs had torn the elements apart over New York City, Philadelphia or Boston, and the winds of chance and misfortune had carried radioactive dustclouds to wherever we happened to be - we would not have gone hunting for the culprit on our street... had we somehow survived, that is. Nevertheless, it is as if invisible rays of the nefarious kind have had their way with us and here we are - trapped by their insidious power, unable to free ourselves from their hold. These rays, if they existed, would manifest themselves psychically, though scientists, psychologists and other professionals might not be able to exact the nature of the actual workings of the rays, though I imagine it would be like a virus, running through the entire population. Few would dare identify it as greed, for the manifestations would appear in so many varying forms no-one could positively ascertain this, except in theory. But that is what it must be like - all the symptoms are there; and what else, really, could have brought us to such an awkward state or stage of discivilization as the one we are currently a part of? Is that what happened, back then, when life was simpler, when we trusted, not nations perhaps, but one another? Well, you may ruminate on it if you will. As for me, I'm too busy adapting to the thought that my neighbour has been zapped by invisible rays, carries a strange virus wherever he (or she) goes, and therefore cannot help the fact of his recent acquisition of three new houses, twin Ferraris (Ferrarii?); and a chain (yet another!) of Potato Skinny outlets... while not so far away, his neighbour sleeps in an abandoned car, obtaining his "edibles" from a food bank outlet - when there's enough to go around. Maybe these thoughts, too, come from an overly-wandering imagination, and I'm the one with the weird virus. Even so, something's not right with mostly all of us today, so I'll opt for accepting the reality of the rays, whether I might know better or not. It helps to clear the mind of negative impulses and vibrations I might otherwise direct neighbourward. And, who knows - if those rays, existing or not, ever hit me - why, maybe, just maybe I can fight them off. Understanding the enemy is half the battle, isn't it? Or, is that really the battle? ============================================== RENDEZVOUS WITH MADNESS by Carly Svamvour Heading north on the Roncesvalles streetcar, there are people bound to reach that East/West line that will take them home after a long, hard day at the old salt shakers. I do not mention salt mines, as most places have scaled down a bit. I hear a lady's voice - she is laughing like a young kid at the Howdy Doody show when Clarabelle comes out. She's a big-boned, tallish woman and her constant smile is a bright red apple, as she shoulders her way through the standing patrons. You vant to know vhy? she cries I tell you vy ... ha ha ha ha! Dey call it Sunset Boulevard because ha ha ha ha dey sleep all day and alvays dey get up ven dae sun sets down dat's vy! I am beginning to wonder about my own sanity when I start laughing hysterically - everybody's looking at her then back at me as she rambles on about Mike Harris' naked butt hanging out the window. They begin to wonder if her madness is catching. The only thing that saves me is my walkman - I cannot stop laughing and the Celtic music is not enough to drown her out. Quickly I flip over to the rumble rock rhythm of Springsteen - I feel myself returning to my own personal madness - it is a madness that is still negotiable. I am still a little way from that edge. Downstairs in the station, a busker is playing 'Let It Be' - I've seen him before and love his sweet, strong voice. He sings with all the Moon Lady's light and his face shines. I am happy and sit listening...smiling. People pass - they look at him - 'he's really good' they say with their faces but do not stop. But then they look at me. I'm smiling - ecstatic under this magic the singer weaves around me. They look at me as if to say ..... Are you mad? Possibly. ----------------------------------------------------------- MORE QUOTATIONS FROM MYSELF by NICK GUR 153. In dealing with reality our most important faculty is our ability to think. But not everybody thinks in the same way. Though there is a big grey mass in between, people can be roughly divided into two main groups - those who think logically and those who do not. In the course of their lives members of each group, one no more than another, are trying to find refuge from reality by using their specific modes of thinking, namely, those with logical minds by being logical, those with illogical minds by being illogical. Contrary to the popular belief that having logical mind is more useful or even necessary in order to cope with life, one group is usually as successful or unsuccessful as the other in achieving this universal goal. Ultimately, it all depends on the kind of reality each individual member of either group is faced with at any particular moment of his or her life, because the reality itself is not uniform and homogeneous. Like a human mind, which is its product and therefore a reflection of, Reality can also be divided into two opposite (though not contradictory) kinds - the logical and the illogical. The logical reality consist of events that always come to pass in the same way and therefore are deemed to be governed by the laws of logic derived from necessity, i.e. given certain prior conditions as the premises certain posterior events would follow, out of necessity, as the conclusions. The illogical reality comprises the events that never occur in the same way, but always differently, and, as if by chance, at random and spontaneously. Within the realm of such events, it is impossible to establish causal connections because when certain prior conditions are given as a premise any posterior events may follow but none as a conclusion and of necessity, thus placing all such events outside the sphere of the logical reality. Now, the people with the logical type of mind always try to explain and subsequently cope with all reality (both logical and illogical) by using logic. As a result, they are successful when faced with the logical reality and, understandably, unsuccessful facing the illogical one. Similarly, the people with the illogical type of mind while dealing with reality do not use logic on the assumption that all reality is illogical. Accordingly, they are successful when faced with the illogical part of reality and unsuccessful confronting its logical part. Both kinds can't help but to behave in a way they do, because that's the way they are. It is as unnatural for the logical type to think illogically and to accept that the reality is chaotic and unpredictable as for the illogical type to think logically and to believe that there is any consistency in the world around them. How do these two types get along one with another? It wouldn't be an overstatement to say that they do not mix very well. The profound and seemingly irreconcilable difference between their types of thinking is probably one of the leading causes of conflicts in human relations, especially in a family situation where people have no other choice but to strive to attain at least some kind of harmony. Needless to say, quite often the only result of their efforts is an unending and futile struggle since they can no more understand each other than the people who speak different languages. ================================== Queen/Neville car by Lucile Barker I hate the Queen street car some nights; smells of smoke and cheap rye and an old man asking a dog on a string “What language do you speak, buddy, what language do you speak?” I hear an empty bottle rolling in the back, but the old man thinks it might have a trickle in it, staggers to the rear, lifts it to his lips, sucks greedily, tosses it to the floor and swears “Watch it back there,” says the driver. “Don’t want no broken glass back there.” The old man eyes me, tries to get a smile. “Watcha drink, girlie?” he asks. Two blue rinsed Beaches ladies watch nervously. “Where’s the nearest liquor store, lady?” They look at each other, blanking out the question. “Don’t know what language they speak,” he mutters. “There’s a liquor store at the next stop,” the driver says, winking at the ladies. Funny, I can’t remember one. “We’ll split a bottle, buddy,” the drunk tells the dog. The old man isn’t holding the dog’s string. “I trust you, buddy,” he tells the dog, patting it with a dirty hand. The dog smells of urine and fear, cowers in the doorway, whines. “What language do you speak?” the drunk asks as they leave the car. There is no liquor store on the corner. As we pull away, the drunk whines, and the dog runs away. The ladies smile triumphantly, the driver chuckles. I wish I knew what language I spoke. I wish there were some other way to get home Monday nights. ----------------------------------------------------- THE HOLLOW ONES Vacant eyes Aimless hands Scuffling, scurrying feet Words that lead nowhere - Why are they the hollow ones? They surround events Not participating Conversation resounds off them Like hail off a garbage can These shells, these husks of men. Am I hollow? Did you drain my soul And depart laughing - Or is this void I feel The cocoon of something new, Tender and beautiful Growing out of ruined hopes; The sense of loss A sloughing of dead parts The signal of renewal? By: Don Carter ========================================================= Dear Alias The world is full of beauty spots, where tourists like to go. But there are quiet corners still, which many do not know. Their nature wears a smiling face, and man has added warmth and grace. 2000 by: me Barbie, bernie, herbie and bonnie, are all 50 years old, so my 680 a.m. news said on Feb. 9/99. They introduced the christmas of 1999- 2000 with all sorts of toys, toys, toys. For us big kids and old kids, we listen to the 2000 insight: 1) Time reversal oo. 2) New world. Well in this, I see a bigger picture. They already have New Years tours planned! The Y2K MILLENIUM is coming up with exciting tours! But, little children don't understand these things. Some grown ups adopt words, such as jubilee, hoping they sound better to little ears. I know the answer for me! You see, there is an alternative to quoting Bible verses. I've settled with the word "w-o-r-l-d" or "earth," which is written in every book of the Bible, and churches sing it out. Why not find a constructive way to talk to little tots. Teach values through lessons. Count time by days and not by the decades: as in saying, "I've had a good day today," for example. To the youth, my motto for safety is: "Little children, it isn't hard to find a crossing guard. At another time of day, it may not be the same guard, but it is still safe to cross." I got this idea from my dad's autograph that I've had for more then 50 years. It was written by pencil and pad, and means that people still have street manner. A Letter & Poem / Joan Hall =============================================== "We Say We Care" Have you ever been told: I love you, and that I'll always be there for you? Would you please help me? You had promised me that, that would never happen. You asked me if I would lend you some money, and I did. You have told me that you loved me, and I found out differently. I thought you would have been there for me, but you never were, my mistake! You were there for me, only when you would benefit or gain something for yourself! You said that you would help me, but only after I would help you. I guess the money that you borrowed, is lost or considered stolen. I wonder why, oh why is it, some of us do the things that we do. God I wish all "OUR" eyes and hearts were wide open, so we might see and think about all that it is that we are doing to each other. From: R.M. |
| Toronto | Ontario | M5A 1S1 |
 towndown2@hotmail.com |
||
|
. |
| Visitors: 01140 |