Category: Holidays

  • LANDRULE

    Phakdichumpon Cave

    The crimson tide of communism flows north from Indonesia into the remainder of the ASEAN countries, conquering and destroying numbers of tribals with a roll of the dice. Tens of thousands are displaced, thousands others are killed. Borders are bolstered when resources exist enough to do so, and infiltrations continue based on economics and weather.

    These are the ins and outs of LANDRULE, the rip-off, digital version of the classic marathon board game RISK, where joke apologies are given when cultures are decimated, and homogeneousness is the end goal. When you have 44hours of van time in three days, such games and distractions and mindless mind-stimulation is necessary. We watch Band of Brothers, a Hollywood ‘tribute’ to the allies in WWII, then we pass the massive Samsung Galactica S7 to the next unshowered goon, pretend to conquer the world, one podcast at a time.

    In contemporary, middle-class terms, we are conquering the land. We burn fossil fuels and eat Peanut Butter Salted Nut Rolls to show our progress and civility as humans. In five months from Regina to Vancouver to Horse Creek to Yellowknife to Winnipeg to Thailand to Regina to Seattle to New York spanning amounts of time in which only microbes can thrive. Such life is not natural for the relationship between a person and a person, a person and their brain, a person and their butthole.

    Thusly, my original doubts of malaria and parasites and any illness that exists until it breaks me down like a lego wall in an air strike, have begun to become real fears. My body aches for a home that I don’t have. In joking desperation and boredom WebMD tells me that I might have meningitis or hepatitis or West Nile shortly after it asked me if my symptoms included ‘low self esteem’ and ‘poor personal hygiene’. Do you have a craving to eat ice, dirt, or paper? If so, contact our emergency health insurance provider immediately.

    It’s not natural for a body to travel this far, this quickly, someone stated when the golden glow of New York City invaded the night sky from 50 miles out. Feels like I haven’t touched the ground in 4 days. I haven’t, really. The snaredrum whispered in my ears from atop the pile of guitars, amps, t-shirts, warning me that it was about to land on my neck with the next bump in the NJ Turnpike.

    Fox News headlines digested during free hotel breakfast:
    Rudy Guiliani thinks Obama doesn’t love America.
    North Korea claims that ebola was biological warfare sent by the US to destroy the world.

    I am here to bring it home.

    LANDRULE continues.

  • Letter to the Board



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    Letter to the Board,

    Carmichael Outreach is a unique community unlike any other within the city of Regina. Community members, occasionally referred to in the pejorative as ‘clients’, use Carmichael for its services and programs, which are often as unique as the community itself. Community members also come to Carmichael for a sense of dignity, belonging, friendship, and community. Where most people find this in their own homes, Carmichael community members make their own family, and use the coffee room as their living room. I have experienced no greater example of belonging, dignity and respect.

    The reasons a place like Carmichael has to exist is complex and longterm. Poverty, addiction, mental illness, abuse are complicated human issues that will never be solved by the harm reduction programs run out of a small, dilapidated building with an overrun staff. But the decisions that that individuals and organizations make that cause these issues are clear, and as a non-profit, very avoidable. The systems of capitalism and colonialism are the root cause of the issues that tax the lives of the Carmichael community members. Capitalism is the economic model used by Canada’s colonial past and present. This economic system not only took over Indigenous land for the sake of giving land for new homesteads, but has played the largest role in the destruction of the traditions and governing systems for the fact that capitalism cannot exist in the presence of other traditions. The traditions and governance of Indigenous peoples are the polar opposite of capitalism, which is why colonialism had no choice but to assimilate and exterminate.

    As a community-based organization, Carmichael has the distinct opportunity to stray from its current model of governance, that is, treating the non-profit as it were a multimillion dollar company, and to treat it like the living, breathing community that it is. Top-down, hierarchal decision making has worked superficially in the past and works in other contexts, but running Carmichael in such a manner only perpetuates the reasons Carmichael has to exist in the first place. Decisions, economic and otherwise, made for a community’s well-being without direct involvement or even simple consultation of that community, will be uninformed and detrimental to healthy functioning.

    A shift to a more communicative, cooperative model of governance, still based in the Canadian laws for charitable organizations, would greatly benefit an agency like Carmichael Outreach. Board members offer a unique outside community perspective with business and executive expertise, while staff bring a frontline, community-member voice imperative to the balanced and equal decision-making to ensure that the customary neocolonial top-down approach of running an organization doesn’t take hold. Carmichael community-member input, more than once a year in patronizing AGM meetings, is imperative to the inclusion of the most important demographic; the service-user. To expect the opinions, ideas, plans, and dreams of hundreds of community-members and dozens of staff members to be filtered through a single Executive Director position is not only ineffective and impossible, it is unfair to charge the Executive Director with such an overwhelming task. Communal decision-making ensures a transparent, efficient, and effective process, and one that could slowly be transitioned into simply by allowing a Carmichael staff member to participate in the board meetings each month. Such a change would bring board members into a far greater understanding of daily operations at Carmichael, and would give staff members a clearer understanding of the necessity of process in an organization of this size. This transition could be complete with running Carmichael as a cooperative community movement that includes people of all backgrounds, incomes, and visions together in one common goal of continuing the important community work at which Carmichael already succeeds. Community requires such social mix, and a community organization’s healthy functioning is no different. Greater communication between stakeholders of Carmichael Outreach can only improve the future strength and effectiveness of such a community. I ask that you please consider a more cooperative and communicative approach to the operations of such a strong and critical community in Regina as it would be a disservice to the service-users to run it in any other way.

    I have not, and likely will never again, work in a place such as Carmichael, and I know its potential far outweighs its current impact, which is a significant statement considering Carmichael’s influential past and present. Please consider decolonizing Carmichael’s governance and shift to inclusive and cooperative styles of governanace that truly can benefit such a distinct community.

    Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this organization.

    Nicholas Olson

  • The Adirondack Haystack Still Tours

    The Adirondack Haystack Still Tours Mini Book Tour/Camping Trip

    July 12 – Kokopelli Salon w/ Son Howler, 2052 Commercial Dr, Vancouver BC, 8pm
    July 16 – Oaklands Sunset Market, 1-2827 Belmont Ave, Victoria BC, 4pm
    July 18 – Pages Books, 1135 Kensington Road NW, Calgary AB, 7:30pm

    See posters below. Click below for PDF versions.

     The Adirondack Haystack Still Tours The Adirondack Haystack Still Tours Poster

    Market July-page-001

    July 16 – Victoria

  • Pickers’ Cup

    Pickers’ Cup—maybe the most fun I’ve ever had.

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  • Christmas Makes Me Ignorant

    Promptly at 12-noon each day, when lunch break begins, I turn off the radio. CBC Radio One is my daily deliverer of news and interviews, albeit news and interviews that do little to capture the truth behind current events, because, like all mainstream media, has reasons to not upset the prevailing order. Following Q with Jian Ghomeshi, the deified interviewer and cultural compass to the barely-left-of-centre young adults of Canada, and following the half-hour segment about medicine, Francophonie, or comedy, Saskatchewan’s most awkward radio host takes the reins on the aptly named, nothing-of-substance, Blue Sky.

    Hungover in a van, clutching the natural hydration of a coconut water driving home from Saskatoon, we listened as people called in to ask questions to a Butterball turkey cooking expert. One-sixty-five Celsius in the breast and one-eighty in the deep thigh. Confident great-aunts claimed the greatest turkey dressing in the southwest of Saskatchewan and asked about the cooking properties of smoked turkey. Public broadcasting strikes again; getting down to the issues that matter to Canadian families—gluttony and blind tradition at all costs.

    And now I am here, alone on Christmas day, just wishing that a call-in show about turkeys would exist once more so I would know where the hell the deep thigh of a 29-pound turkey is. Christmas makes me ill, and has consistently in my short life. This year I have been resting with pneumonia-like symptoms at the house alone, saving myself for the days after Christmas where work and friends will take another toll on me to ensure that I catch the dreaded fiction-defying double-pneumonia. Last year it was fever-hallucinations in the basement of a party house. When I was eight the family spent the holidays in Edmonton, and as I vomited though the holiest day of the year, my family rode rollercoasters at the West Edmonton Mall. I sat at home and pouted, the highlight of my day being a 600mL bottle of ginger-ale. Spending Christmas home alone hasn’t been as exceptional as that of Kevin McAllister, but it hasn’t been as miserable as people seem to think it would be. That is because it doesn’t matter. Being alone today is no different than being alone two weeks ago.

    Talk radio has been playing continuously in my parents’ garage since far before I existed. It has just recently been a conscious part of my daily life, and only now, with a personal investment of months, can I really distinguish between shows. The production quality, the natural flow of interviews, the call-in shows. Rex Murphy’s voice is about as hard to mistake as his fossil face and recently on his own Cross-Country Check-Up I had the opportunity to hear five or six passionately uninformed Canadians weigh in on prostitution. I learned nothing except that ignorance is painful.

    It is also inevitable. We are all unlearned creatures and will continue to be this way regardless how long we live. Ignorance isn’t inherently negative. It becomes harmful when the ignorant believe they are experts. Call-in shows celebrate ignorance by allowing the comfortable middle-class to weigh in on topics that are often foreign to them, and encourages them through polite recognition of their opinions. An opinion is irrelevant if it is ignorant. The democratic nature of such a forum is as imagined as that of a constitutional monarchy, for although it is open to the public, it purposefully alienates those it deems unimportant, often those who don’t pay taxes. And like the debates and propaganda in politics, these call-in shows only further people into their partisan stubbornness. When ignorance is purposeful, in a blissful attempt at self-preservation, it is equally as harmful. These forms of ignorance are harmful not to the ignorant, but to the subject which they are ignorant about.

    As a person who has been labelled a vegetarian, I am currently roasting two of fifteen turkeys. I will not eat them, and the rinsing of their giblets and the massaging of their frozen breasts makes me ill. I am admittedly ignorant about cooking turkeys, and dammit, I’d like to keep it that way.

    Christmas makes me sick for infinite reasons, all of which I will save for the next call-in show I hear, asking about family Christmas traditions.

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