Beyond Thunderdome

I had a dream a couple nights ago where I drove a big van down a really steep hill and then rolled it 25 times off a bend and into suburban homes because the breaks wouldn't work.

When I woke up in the dream I was like, 'Holy Fucking Shit!? My head must've exploded all over some poor kid's first afterschool-livingroom-handjob and now I'm dead! DEAD!!' But I wasn't..

It was the next day and I wasn't even in the hospital. My legs had thousands of stitches in them, sticks and whatever to hold things in place, but I could walk. My body was in shock, and my head a little funny or drugged; but everything worked. The only concern I had really, was that there was a gaping hole in my abdomen... with no skin or muscle or anything other than a flap of clear, rectangular-shaped plexi-glass taped across it; covering up some very fucked up and rotten intestines of mine. They were disgusting (but also amazing!). The flap opened from the bottom and you could swoosh things around with your hands (maybe not the best surgeon-al choice?) but otherwise I felt fine.

When my dad was young, he once rolled his 1970 Dodge Challenger down a valley in Pennsylvania - mangling it - but coming out with only some bruising and a concussion. I remember in the dream trying to call him up to let him know that I was in an accident. That I was okay, sure, but more importantly..

..that I totally beat him!

* * *

(BUT ANYWAYS...)

What I think it's really all about is an idea I've been having lately:

I really want to buy a used car, drive it as far into South America as possible (or until it dies), and then blow it up.

I'm thinking of doing this next summer if I can afford it, and after working out some logistical details like whether or not you can actually get a car through the Derien Gap (a stretch of swampland between Panama and Columbia that doesn't seem to have any listed roads), and which giant rainforest insects can kill you? (at this point, I will have to assume all!)

Reasons for doing it/Things I'm sure of...

1. I love Mexican food.
2. I love adventure.
3. I'd like having the real excuse to learn Spanish again.
4. There would be so much to film and write about.
5. If I pull it off (in whatever form).. I will be the most awesome person ever.

And who knows what else I'd find?
..Tomorrow-morrow land?

[to be continued..]

Brian and Rizie Got Married..

..I think they're in love.

7 Old Pictures

Drawing with Down's Syndrome

One of my most favourite people ever is a 22 yr old man with Down's Syndrome, who I've known since I was just starting out in the Special Needs' racket. It's only recently that I changed jobs and am able to hang out with him nearly everyday again. He is hilarious and awesome, and his most favourite thing to do ever is draw! Sometimes he draws pictures of me (because we are best buds!), and so here are some of them:

* From 2007: Notice the attention to detail..
My earplugs and faces on my arms to represent tattoos (and no moustache).

* I dunno.. I think I was hungover this day?!

* From Today: 'We're going to Kensington Market!'

* September 2009:
This is my favourite for some reason, but I'm not sure why?

I just feel that it looks like me. Like it captures my essence perfectly..
and despite the pink moustache and zombie teeth (or maybe because -of ?).**-/-+

..Anyways, I think he's brilliant!!

[EDIT: added pics..]

The Time I Kidnapped and Murdered Someone: A True Story. (pt. 2)

I started out the day in Communications' class with some friends, planning out what to shoot for one of their skateboarding videos; a mishmash of trick footage and guerilla-style tomfoolery in the vain of CKY (which had just come out). Since some of us were not as interested in the skate aspect, yet all of us were interested in fucking off to go pick up lunch somewhere.. we decided upon a mock kidnapping at a major intersection in downtown Collingwood for our scene.

- C'wood Town Hall, with Second St. traffic lights in the distance.

Wearing balaclavas and gripping fake plastic clubs while parked behind a nearby TD bank, we laughed about someone spotting us and calling the cops.

There were five of us. A cameraman, a driver, two goons and myself; elected victim despite my Tempo being the getaway vehicle. This meant an explanation on my part about the sensitivity of the brakes, and why, when popping the trunk, you couldn't just hit the button (because it was broken and nothing would happen). Instead, you had to put the car in park, turn off the engine and physically get up and out of the car to go around and turn the only key I had in the keyhole, if you wanted in.

We made plans on how the shit would go down, finished our Wendy's Jr. Burgers and pulled out of there. When we were a block away from our location, I got out with our cameraman and started walking...

As I approached the crosswalk at Hurontario and Second St, I heard the engine accelerate and then.. ‘SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!!!’

The car had pulled in fast and stopped in way of traffic. The ‘kidnappers’ jumped out masked and swinging their plastic clubs to attack.

They were on me in seconds.

I screamed out as ridiculous and over-the-top as I could while they kicked and batted at me (tenderly). I pretended to struggle and whine as they dragged me over and into the trunk of my car; and I thumped once they slammed it shut again and shuffled to their doors.*

*On the tape (which I lost a long time ago) you could actually hear an old lady scream and then, absolutely petrified, ask: "Why are you doing this? What's going on?"

The car sped away.

Five minutes later the car stopped, my friends let me out, and we returned to class; just in time for the lunch bell.

* * *

When I pulled into the parking lot of my afternoon co-op, I was very much surprised to find two police cruisers already awaiting my arrive.

'Awww.. fuck!' and other swear words were said, ..but all I could do was park and face whatever driving infractions were coming my way. I thought maybe 'Disturbing the Peace' might get tossed around, but I was still just 17, so 'whatever' right!? I was more afraid that my mom was going to have my balls for it.*

*She was always psycho-scary when it came to being angry!

I walked into Roger's Television with an 'OH FUCK?!' look on my face; but totally sweet and pure and Honour Role otherwise. This was my plan.

A couple of cops were chatting up my employer because they knew one another. Doug spots me and then a smirk forms on his face. The officers are still talking, but he stops them mid-sentence to announce me (and to his credit, rather cordially*).

*He tells me later that something like 15 cruisers sped in there earlier, and officers were coming up to his front door with their hands on their holsters. He felt the need to step outside and explain that 'there must be some mistake... ' and so thankfully, I only had to deal with these two dripping in butter(ed).

I learn that these cops - and cops from three other counties (don't ask me which ones?) - had been driving everywhere that morning searching for my car, but couldn't find me because they were looking for a blue Ford Taurus instead of my Tempo. The detail was slight, but enough.

Several witnesses had read the plates and reported us (one of them from when we were parked behind the bank). How any of these people failed to see our cameraman and just how stupid and obviously fake our stunt was, is still beyond me?!*

* I think maybe we just blew their small town minds..

..AND AS FOR THE POLICE?!?!?!


Well... it seemed in the end that all the hullabaloo and detail put in investigation would have less to do with these institutions' inability to take a prank, and more to do with our performance's parallel to events that had happened the night before in the GTA.

Having not read the Toronto Sun earlier in the day, neither my friends or I knew that a teenager named Matty Baronofsky had been assaulted and killed by a group of teenagers in G. Rossland Park the night before. Or that the perpetrators had worn balaclavas and used small clubs and baseball bats in his beating-death.

With our ‘kidnapping’ having happened so soon after, and the plates of my (grandma’s) car being traced back to Toronto, for some two or three hours I was a prime murder suspect and, simultaneously, my own next victim.*

*They had got in touch with my grandma and mom (how they found out where I'd be), and both didn't know which one I was either.

If they had rolled up on me during lunch, I feel like they probably would've thrown me hard onto the cruiser and beaten me down...


...but thankfully, no such thing happened.

The encounter would take over the remainder of my day, though no hostile infraction on my liberties resulted from it. No suspension. No jail time. Only a small amount of notoriety and pride for having pulled a rather absurd affront to a couple of institutions – the O.P.P and the Simcoe County District School Board – deemed ‘oppressive’ by my then Anarcho-Socialist political perspective. Heck, we even got in the paper!*

*...BUT HOLY-FUCKING-SHIT DID I EVER HAVE TO TALK MY ASS OFF LIKE NEVER BEFORE (OR SINCE)!!!

* * *

NOTE: This happened 10 years ago this month... and I still find it totally hilarious.*

*..So thanks again for kidnapping me Sid, Tyler, Jesse, and Mike!