Third Words from B.C.

Peyote, Banisteriopsis caapi, Salvia divinorum [which are] Plants, vessels [for] Mescaline, harmaline, salvinorin-A [which are] Mind altering, consciousness expanding chemicals. And all within easy reach. Ah, the joys of living Canada where one does not have to be a member of the American Indian Church to legally possess those little cacti which send the Being reeling into dimensions soft and scary as those shamanistic visionaries. The Spirit Within. Appropriate nomenclature, I'm sure. Take them in and what's within comes out. Flows through and through, ayahuasca brew. On Commercial Drive it sits. Perhaps ironic? But that's not all for the Drive is long. There's more to see and the night is young.

Greetings again, my friends and brethren. Have I much to say today? We shall see. I'd say I seek more quality than quantity. But saying that adds only more to the quantity and seems quite irrelevant (At this point I think to myself, "Quite so, but then should I not simply delete the superfluous sentences and be done with it?" {At this point it seems quite obvious that if I were to do that I would have to delete the parenthetical that I have just now added [and therefore the sub-parenthetical of which this very sentence is a sub-parenthetical], but as I am fond of parentheticals [as some of you may have already known ] I have decided that they will remain}). I would like to thank all the people who wrote back to me. Your words brought a smile to my lips and a warmth to my heart. To the people who did not write me back, I am disappointed. I can understand that some had just received their first mailing from me (and in the case of Brian that is true for this one) and perhaps haven't had the time or the inspiration to write anything yet. Fair enough but after this, if I don't hear from you, you can burn in hell. In order to avoid this I will assist you by providing you with subjects about which you can write to me. They will be phrased in the form of questions. It should be noted that the following people are exempt from this communication ultimatum: Jen Wasko, Darren Ridgely, Stephen Harfield, Brad Gillies, Tim Banman, and Tim Friesen. However, if these individuals would like to reply to questions I pose they are more than welcome and may indeed provide additional insight to which the others are not privy. That being said, here are the questions which I pose to you all (some more than others {although I am not making an Orwellian reference here I am aware of the similarity}):
How was your Halloween? Was there another doorstep jam?
Has anything interesting happened at work and/or school lately?
Does the karaoke tradition live on?
Read any good books/Seen any good movies?
What's the weather like in Winnipeg right now?
Getting any action lately?
*For Danny* How's Brandon? Still living there?
*For Alan* How's Subway? Still working there?
*For Keith* How's the herpes? Still itching down there?
*For Trevor* Would you say I have portrayed Vancouver accurately thus far? (I'll be describing Commercial Drive later on)
I'd say that should be enough to eliminate anyone's excuse that they couldn't think of anything to write. Note: other excuses may still be valid. On to better and brighter things. Such as dreams. Wonderful things, they are. Become very important to me, they have. They're the only way I can see you guys now. And I have seen many of you in my dreams since I've arrived here. I've even had one lucid dream this past week. I think I can correctly attribute it to the fact that I have resumed wearing my wrist watch. How is that, some of you may ask. It's quite simple really. With my watch beeping every hour I am given several reminders throughout the day to perform a reality check. This involves asking myself if I am in fact awake or dreaming and examining the readout on the watch. Then I look away and examine the watch again. The result (though it does not occur as often as I would like) is that I continue the habit of looking at my watch into my dreams. When it occurs the numbers fluctuate and give impossible times. I can therefore conclude that I am indeed dreaming and ultimate power is given me. In this recent dream after becoming lucid I gained telekinetic powers. I was able to throw a large cardboard box containing Al Pacino against a wall, and play a piano with my mind. In hopes of learning to have these dreams more consistently and frequently I have requested the book Lucid Dreaming by Stephen LaBerge from the local library. I've also requested True Hallucinations by Terrence McKenna and The Psychedelic Experience by Timothy Leary. Unfortunately inter-library loan requests are dishearteningly slow. Nonetheless, my reading appetites are being sated. After finishing my book on existentialism I decided to continue the theme by reading Samuel Beckett's famous play Waiting for Godot. I'm not sure I really "got" it. I suppose it would be better to see it performed. After that I decided against resuming Sartre as I'd had my fill of existentialists for a while. I wanted something a bit lighter so I turned to an old favorite, science fiction. I read The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick, an alternate history set in 1962 wherein the Germans and Japanese have won World War II. After that came Neuromancer by William Gibson, the book that started the cyber-punk genre and introduced the word "cyberspace" into our modern language. Taking the advice of Harfield I then read Franz Kafka's short piece The Metamorphosis. I believe I understand Harfield's comparison of my writing to Kafka's now. If anyone else would like to, I'm sure Harfield would be more than willing to expound upon his observations. And finally, the book that holds my attention currently is Blood Music by Greg Bear. It's about a scientist who genetically engineers lymphocytes that are capable of rational thought and they sort of turn into a plague. But enough about books. I don't spend all my time inside reading. Just most of it. I did get out to see the Parade of Lost Souls. Every year on the Saturday before Halloween hundreds of people dress in elaborate costumes (and some not-so-elaborate costumes {and some no costumes}) and parade through the streets and back alleys around Grandview Park. Despite the enthusiasm of much of the crowd and the handmade grandiosity of the spectacle it was hard to enjoy it without a few stoned friends. The rest of my evening on the Drive was pleasant enough. It's rather like a larger more varied version of Osborne Village. Coffee shops, restaurants, antique stores. Grocers, pawn shops, travel agencies as well. One shop called Urban Empire was particularly interesting. Like a higher brow San Fransisco. A hipster kitsch and lesbian chic kind of vibe. Were it a wealthier neighborhood I would have said that vibe typified Commercial Drive. But perhaps I'm being too general.

I dare say that's all. Unless I'm forgetting. Too soon to tell, so I'll not be fretting. Adieu, adieu, until the next (of these hopefully entertaining texts).

Tony "I'm not putting that anywhere until you tell me what it is" Hawkins