Well, it's been awhile. A lot has changed since the last post: my postal code, my career focus, and my enthusiasm for all things social media. Anyway, I am not updating you on any of that news. This is just a post to mention that, after some soul searching, I have decided to keep my writing-editing career going. At least for the duration of the year. To that end, I am once again gearing up applications and pitches for the coming months. Nothing concrete to say at this point. Who knows how this will go? I have some energy in me to keep plugging away for bylines, so I may as well expend it all. This blog may get more regular updates in time, but it is best not to expect much from it; this was never supposed to be much more than a portfolio of my work, and as the work has all but dried up in the past eight months, so too have the updates.
All this to say, I am giving myself at least one more year as a freelancer. That's it, that's the update. I hope January was kind to you. On with February. Follow me this month as I participate in the Push-Up Challenge for mental health. Although I am not fundraising, some words of encouragement would be nice.
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Okay, Elongate Muskrat. You win. You and your unholy cabal of Proud Boys, crypto-fuckers, terfs and marketers can have Twitter. Personally, I wouldn't want to be a part of any group that would not allow me to call a right-wing radio host a "weiner," even indirectly. So, ban me. Okay. And I will delete my account, sure. Have what remains of Twitter, I couldn't care less. Twitter has become a degenerate void. All of this to say, I am no longer on Twitter. I am on BlueSky, however. While not perfect it is a lot less fash-y, and that is huge. You can find me there by looking for @lapsedhumanist, which is about as brand-y as I get. So if you enjoyed my bs on Twitter, follow me onto Bsky. Screw you, Musk. I can't wait for your bankruptcy. Photo: Tom Axford 1, Wikimedia Commons Loss is an impossible gulf, and grief, that darting shadow fathoms deep. Pain is an ocean through which oars move tender. I am aflame with rage at her detractors. Defilers! Their poison worked slow. Vile, laborious death. What torments she endured! How hard was her skin? How set her nerve? What bond encased so frail a body that she endured so nobly torrents of castigation and opprobrium? And always, those eyes, curtains to inner pains, held up, even, steady, a rifle set against brooding forces ever in her midst, flecked horror could not outdo their luster. And now, her cutlass tongue eternally sheathed Her fiery, delicate spirit conjoining with the elements, Only now might she rest in the serenity oft denied her physical self. May her legacy be a constant lash at the hides of the craven, the perverse, the callow, the malicious, the viper hordes who hounded her. Who nettled her. Who tried to silence her with chains. For the crime of being a truth-teller, a seer, a woman who dared speak up. The woman who would not be led. Tonight, hold in reverence her voice of power (beacon) her lyrics of wisdom (pillar) her gaze of strength (titanium) and her life of resolve (presence). For those wondering, my column on climate change mitigation has run its course over at Vancouver Is Awesome. My thanks to the VIA staff and my editor, Lindsay, for letting my crashland on their site for a year. And thanks to my pal Brendan for giving me the original tip. Would not have happened for me had he not reached out. Many a beer is owed. You can find the whole year's selection of articles here.
As for my next steps, I am back on the pitching beat. The rate card has been refurbished. Pitches are being contemplated. Research is ongoing. All the boring administrative stuff. Stay tuned for updates. Thanks, and cheers, Jason Despite spending hours creating a nifty, colourful editorial calendar for myself, things have not gotten off the bump just yet. Last week I missed both of my scheduled deadlines due to a lack of spoons. Depression, man, it will lay to waste the best of plans and schemes. But, it's a new week. There's a sliver of sunshine outside in East Vancouver. Not enough to cause a lot of skin damage, but enough to get the leaf-blowers and weed-whackers in the neighbourhood out in full springtime chorus. This recent depressive swoon, while demonstrably unfun, was mitigated by the fact I was able to sleep. I don't know about other depression sufferers, but the correlation between sleep and depression is profound at times. At times, a long sleepless spell seems to lead to depression. Other times, the depression hits and sleep becomes impossible. I should research this area, because if there's anything more common to my life than depression, it is poor sleep. In any case, I have had some wonderful rest this past week, despite the grey energy of my mental state. This has, however, not only impacted my blogging, but some volunteer work I have recently started. Or have tried to. Deadlines and depression have essentially set me back about a week or so in a lot of commitments. Cue the depression guilt. Always fun wading through that murk. I have a mixed bag of priorities this week, including job searching, researching my next article for Vancouver is Awesome, getting my taxes done etc. Somehow, I will get the majority of it done. No assurances that I am full and clear of the sway of my depression yet; best I can do is try to get as much work done as I can, while I can. I will deal with the grey shit when/if it rears its head again. Sidenote: part of the reason I feel better today, aside from sleep? I took a long break from my socials yesterday, in particular, Twitter. Coincidence? Postscript: On a culture note, there is a new LP out by Sleaford Mods. You should check it out, asap. Perfect balm for these infuriating, dangerous, and stupid times. The LP is called UK GRIM, so it leaves no doubt as to where its locus of aural attention is at. Even those of us outside the UK will find plenty to latch onto: sick beats, sweet grooves, and clever-if-sweary wordplay. Painfully and playfully relevant, it could be the LP of the year. Vancouver fans take note: the band returns to these parts in a few short weeks. Enjoy the video below. Consider it your appetizer. Cheers, Jason Forty-seven, hey? Inching ever closer to the fifty mark, with the achy knees, stiff back, and pinched shoulder to prove it. Jeez, I recall turning twenty-five, or a Quarter as I told my girlfriend at the time, as though it was last month. Despite all of the existential gloom, it was a wonderful weekend to slow down, enjoy the pace, and reflect on life to this point. I spent as little time online as possible; I ignored my email, quickly archiving things that I otherwise might have read; Aside from a couple of pints on my birthday eve, I avoided alcohol, although the caffeine intake was at least doubled; I consumed a metric tonne of carbs; but mostly, I just laid low at home with a steady stream of music playing. Including a lot of Lou Reed and Robyn Hitchcock, who shares a birthday with me. Frankly, it was glorious. I am not one for grand festivities; one or two phone calls with family and friends is good for me. Cards, if they come, well wishes via text or SM are all great, but not expected. A friend wanting to buy me lunch is nice, but it's more than I expect. Thing is, my birthday does not depress me or scare me or whatever. It's just a day on the calendar. Sure, I will take advantage to do a little bit less, but it really doesn't matter to me. Just another day. This year, it proved to be a much-needed brain break. We are all different, of course, and there is a fair bit of privilege to be able to loaf for a few days without guilt. I admit that. But I have to say, I feel less frazzled this Monday morning. I feel nominally alert. The week ahead seems an easy task to accomplish. This is not my normal Monday headspace. And to be honest, this feels really nice. Anyway, on the subject of Lou Reed and Robyn Hitchcock earlier. Reed's birthday is the day before Robyn's and mine. My affinity for Reed goes back to '91. Thanks to Oliver Stone's movie The Doors, I was introduced to the Reed-penned 'Heroin' by the Velvet Underground. The lyrics, the performance, the rising tension of Moe Tucker's drumming ... it all had a bodily effect on me. Seriously. For the first several plays of that song, it threatened my breathing. But oh, the imagery Reed created in that space. Magic. As a sixteen-year-old, Reed, both as a solo and a member of the Velvets, had a profound influence on me. More so than the grunge of the day. When Reed died in a decade a go, I was gutted. His journey complete, to our detriment. So every year as our birthdays roll around, I play a lot of Lou. Invariably, the song posted below, creeps into the mix. I admit I am not sure what the song is about, but its mood puts me on a reflective path, especially as I find myself "heading towards the finish line." Take a listen and tell me your thoughts on the track, on Lou, his work, or anything else I have mentioned here in this scattershot post. Until next time, Cheers. Greetings, from snow-blanketed "Vancouver." After getting suckered into thinking spring was en route, WHAM, winter breaks the spell. It has been cold and gross, but that's good; it has allowed me to focus on my work.
I was on deadline for Vancouver is Awesome this week so, beyond this post and maybe something lighter later on, there will be no blog until next week. This gives me time to sort out the ideas which are battling for attention. My next installment for ViA will be dropping in a few days. You can catch up on last month's piece about food waste here. Two more articles remain in my series about climate change mitigation. Where has the year gone? As I mentioned, I have a few ideas kicking about for the blog next week. Nothing to preview yet. Meanwhile, I will pop in again later this week to offer some reading before you head off into the wilds of the weekend. Maybe a gig review? Afterall, I will be in attendance at the Viagra Boys this week. Maybe I'll see you there? For now, Cheers, Jason From time to time, I will share with you some of the books, movies/shows, and music that is consuming my life, in a good way. This will be an easy way for me to add content to this meagre website. It will, I hope, also engender some discussion between reader and author. If nothing else, I hope you will pick up some of the material I list for your own enjoyment. So, to start, here is a taste of what I have been reading, watching and listening to so far this month. Let me know what you think. Books The Darker Nations, Vijay Prashad (Apologies to those waiting for this library book. It will be at least a day late.) Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire (See above). Beef, Bibles and Bullets: Brazil in the Age of Bolsonaro, Richard Lapper* Dilma's Downfall, Peter Prengaman China is Not Our Enemy, Tai P. Ng* Justice in War Time, Bertrand Russell Black Spartacus: The Epic Life of Toussaint Louverture, Sudhir Hazareesingh Myths of Modern History, Jacques R. Pauwels* (FYI, I am on Goodreads if you're so inclined to follow.) Movies/TV Lupin, Seasons one and two (Netflix)* Occupied, I am up to season two (also Netflix) King of the Hill (Disney+) Amen. (2002)* First Reformed (2017)* Paul Schrader redeems himself for The Canyons The English Game (Netflix) Cunk on Earth (Netflix via BBC)* *highly recommended Music Here is a playlist I made for Black History Month. Best experienced on shuffle. I think this qualifies as chaotic good? Heavy Heavy is the latest release by Young Fathers. I lack the words to describe just how good this crew is. So check out this clip and this one too for a taste. If you're new to Young Fathers, take refreshments with you. It's a thirsty journey. Assorted artists getting more than a few plays this month include Sun Ra, Neneh Cherry, Kimbra, David Byrne and Living Colour. On the podcast front, I stick to current events and news from a variety of sources. Some that stand out for me are: Latin America Review I4C Trouble The Guardian Science Weekly Explaining Brazil FT's News Briefing Weather with Cliff Mass Give the People What they Want Al Jazeera's Essential Middle East All of these are available from Google Podcast, where I gnab them, but no doubt are available wherever you get your pods. Until next time, Cheers. By Jason Motz Whither the peace movement and the doves of yore? Did the Raging Grannies leave no legacy for their grandkids? It wasn’t so long ago that millions of people marched for peace across the Uk, Europe and North America in defiance of the brutal, and illegal, Iraqi war. In a fever pitch, effigies of George W. Bush and Tony Blair, co-authors of that appalling episode, were rightly burned as the greatest peace movement since the Vietnam War stood up to the war machine. Finally free of the post-9/11 jingoism that had kept would-be dissenters schtum, the collective conscience of peace finally found its voice. Now, a year into Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine, all one ever hears about is agitation for more war. Countering views are, at best, suppressed. The doves are silent or have been silenced. Meanwhile, the drums of war grow louder by the day, even as this regional conflict threatens to spiral into something more hideous than humanity has ever faced. Surely I do not need to spell out the inherent existential risks of a proxy war between Russia and America? A year on, and Ottawa is no less than an avid cheerleader for doom by supplying tanks to Ukraine, training Nazi-sympathetic Ukrainian battalions, and issuing sovereignty bonds. Ottawa could have chosen to be the arbiter of peace, but instead, chose to play the role of simpering vassal to the nth degree. This is detrimental to Canada’s legacy as a so-called democracy, but also assures a destructive swath through Ukraine is maintained. For all of the jingoism expressed from pockets of the Canadian government and wider society, all of these words are disingenuous for none of these people will ever come under fire in a warzone. They support with their rhetoric what they know they will never endure in their own country. This is not solidarity; this is moral cowardice. Ottawa should be, perhaps even still could be, at the forefront of a movement that desires peace in Ukraine. Admittedly, they would be very much alone in the global north. Nonetheless, Ottawa should be the broker of peace, assuming anyone in this boondoggle actually wants peace. Have we as a nation become so co-opted by arms dealers like Raytheon? Are we so beholden to that tottering empire called the USA that we have forsaken our own rationality, humanism, and good will? Peace, let’s be honest, was never an option. Damn if we didn’t even kick the tires before driving the Leopard tanks off the lot. There are many who believe that Ukraine will win this war, and thus, we owe the country unconditional support, militarily and emotionally. There are those, too, who think the dominance of the Russian military will be too much to overcome. But both of these camps are wearing blinkers. There will be no winner in this war. There will just be meat strewn in the dirt, and a tidy dividend for a small group of war profiteers. The USA is so hellbent on allowing Ukraine to be pulverized by Russia just to drain Russia of its resources that they have taken the eye off their own remit: the American people, whose crumbling infrastructure has recently been symbolized in the eco-tragedy in East Palestine, where the wealth gap grows wider, where Florida is openly soft-shoeing into a wholly fascist foxtrot. But, oh no mind, there’s a war over yonder to be fought. Billions in the pockets for Ukraine, nothing but crumbs for the average American family. “Oh say can you see, by the dawn’s early light.” If the US chooses not to use their brains, then it is up to another nation to pick up the mantle and be the smart one in the room. And since that’s about as likely to be a NATO country as Jimmy Hoffa coming home for dinner tonight, then Canada should take the moral high ground here. As I write, the war horny US government cannot decide whom they would much rather fight - Russia, China, or Iran - it’s trifurcating resources to fight them all. And with China, we even have a timetable set. There must be a voice of peace on the international stage. There must be a chorus, no matter how small, of sane, rational voices that want the warmongering, the profiteering, and the blood shedding to stop. Every day in which calls for peace are muted, is another day closer to oblivion. It is also another drop in the profit margins for those vile men and women who gorge in safety while others die in the cacophony of war. If Ottawa won’t step up to the mic and say “no to war” then the Canadian people must. This week, join others across the globe in rallies near you and say, No to Nato and No to War! The peace movement needs you. -30- It would seem I have been a bit negligent on the self-promotion front the past few months. Between school and getting Covid, my attention span has been a bit strapped of late. I hope to be much better at this in the new year, but for now ... mea culpa.
My series for Vancouver is Awesome continues, with the most recent installment looking at what Translink is doing in the name of climate mitigation. You can read that article here. May you find the article "electrifying." Prior to that, I wrote about things a-happening at Vancouver's Port Authority. You can read that piece here. I have not yet started on the next installment, but I am juggling ideas: the scoop on poop? threats to local biodiversity? Solar? Plenty of options. I hope you will continue to read these pieces as the series continues into the spring. It has been an edifying experience. |
AuthorAll posts in this (infrequent) blog follow CP style. Facts are checked by me, but I am open to debate their veracity. All media will be credited as correctly as possible. Archives
January 2024
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