A contemplative - The art of Freedom

A man by the name of Will Durant said a civilization isn't a civilization unless creativity and the arts are not only tolerated but encouraged.  The people need to be relaxed, free to think about things. School, in my opinion, inhibits this behaviour. Especially when its the useless parts of school. Things that aren't educational. I can finally start to think in this way again. I was writing a lot around the time I started writing for Jerk Out Month, in other projects, but my school marks suffered. So, as you can see, I've won back more time to write a third entry in a week's time. 

I have time to think about lots of things! Even the difference between different alcohols. For example, I wrote this when I was fairly drunk:

Rum. That cursed device. The drunk times you and your friends have had are no match for rum. Rum will destroy you. I can look back at all the times I've drank rum. Oh those times. A different drunk. A dank drunk, a quiet drunk. But still drunk. Its not like whiskey. A light taste, a similar drunk, but not the same. Whiskey does one of two things to you, brings out your happy drunk emotions, or your violent drunk emotions. I'm a fairly happy drunk. But the rum. The rum puts me in a slumber. I lose motor skills alongside my stoned state. Its a tired drunk. Like being a little bit stoned. Slow, sloth-like. This is the rum drunk from my perspective. Hunter S. Thompson seemed to like rum. A quart of rum was always included in his drug collection. I don't see the correlation of rum drunk to his personality, with the exception of his mumbling. However his overall personality type seemed to differ from his rum drunk. This I may never know the source. I'm going to save this, as I'm writing this rum drunk. Perhaps I will add to this or learn something about my drunk self later on. Good night.

I have come to the conclusion that my favourite distilled alcohol is whiskey. I enjoy gin after that. I'm a bit of a wino. White wine first. Red. Brandy is always good, as is Cognac. Sake is okay, but I put Rum above that. But a rum and coke is always good.

Wow! I made a list. I'd never have time doing that if I had to write a two page essay explaining what a primary resource is.

In any case, I have one more exam tomorrow, and I can inhale pot into my lungs or snort some k or whatever I wanna do. I have no cares. I could write here every hour on the hour if I wanted. I can think up a hundred ways to climb up to my roof, or sleep overnight in the park. Whatever. The. Fuck. I. Want. 

Its a delicate art, the art of Freedom - and I just need to learn to master it.

Mind Hive

I was in the fucking heart of a bureaucratic nightmare. Forms and taxes were being thrown in the air like paper airplanes. "These people are savages!" I think to myself - contradicting the orderly atmosphere of the neat desks and protocols, and all the waiting...the waiting. "What did I do last year?" I couldn't remember. The terrible memories of attempting to navigate the endless halls and offices on mescaline. I had a good hour or so to go. But I was wrong, terribly wrong. Mescaline wasn't as good as in the days of Hunter Thompson. So I barely got my money into the hands of the greedy little accountants at the cashier before I started noticing the intense contrast of the Blue lettering against the snow white wall. I could see 5, maybe 6 shades of these fucking colours! 

"Sir....Sir.......Mr. Brown!"

"What?" I asked sincerely. "Oh yes, here's 35.09" I handed my hard earned cash over. In return I received a blue piece of paper. My busking license. And here I was, one year later in the same place. I forgot the rest of my experience from that long ago day. The people seemed a lot more rude this year. They pronounced my name wrong on the loud-speaker. 

"Cooper Bro-In to number six" Echoed the loud speaker. Then I waited for no one. She came. A fat, stout Italian-looking women. In her 30's.

"I need a road allowance permit for busking" I said. She began inquiring after a few pieces of information.

"Oh, by the way I had one last year...if that helps?" I mention, smiling

"OH! Well then just pay at the cashier" She responds in a bitingly annoyed voice, as if unnecessarily entering two pieces of information had cost her her Friday night.

"You know it doesn't cost you money to smile right?" She flashed me a cold stare.

"Boogely boogely boogely!" I exclaim.

 I walked away. After paying my dues to an equally rude cashier, I headed outside, lit up a cigarette and waited for my bus. I looked over toward the Hospital across the street. I had gone in there earlier to use their ATM. Hospitals always depressed me. The sick and dying, however this one seemed rather tame. I waltzed in there in my white dress shirt, aviators and youthful health. I obviously attracted due attention, but made up when I made conversation with a veteran waiting for the ATM alongside me in his wheel chair. He seemed to appreciate this very much and this lift of spirits got me through the Mind Hive that is any formal government building. (Aside from most Environment Ministries/Department) I  took my long  subway ride home and got halfway through "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly". What an amazing piece of literature. If only I spoke fluent french to read the original translation. I wish to learn french and spanish later on in life. I wish I could take it in School, but there is a fucked up school system to blame for that. That I will get into another day. But Today, I went to the centre of hell, and made it back with another 35 dollar piece of paper. God help me.

p.s. For those interested in further reading into why the north american school system fails - I recommend  This article in "An Amazing Mind".

A triumphant return - C. Brown in A Destructive Lumber Yard

The mere sight of a Lumber Yard with the sky seemingly snowing the seeds of dandelions in balmy, sticky sweat. It was the hottest few days in Toronto I had felt in long time - if ever. To breath was a chore. My adventure begins with Contractors. The  filth of the earth - the most greediest bunch of cocksuckers to walk the planet.

"I want 1000 more dollars for the extra electrical!" Says the British Guyanese Contractor

"The contract says ALL Electrical!" I reply

What has this world come to? When all is gone, money, wealth the feeling of more is always there with us. We always want more! MORE MORE MORE! 

While these bootshits started their job, I end up in the North of the Province. A delightful guys weekend, a drunken smoke filled room. Happiness at last. If it wasn't for a stronghold of civilization I would have never got those cigars. Into the depths of a pothead filled corner store. A smoke shop by trade. I stood behind a very crusty, weathered man yelling at the asian employee.  After he finished his blathering, I asked to see the Cigars - when I realize the smokes are hidden. I think back to a corner store experience the day before, a mission to get cold soda - they had their smokes hidden too. What in gods name? She leads me over.

"Tomorrow you can't see them." She says in her Oriental accent.

"Why?" I inquire

"Government! They tell to put tobacco away! You use catalogue." She states.

"Jesus." I mutter.

Monte Cristos and Romeo and Juliets. I didn't want to spend a fortune. Then I got Jack Daniel's and Red Stripe beer. After a drive, it was freedom. How could I have missed this delight before? I haven't lived here very long. That is the answer. 

It wasn't until work set me astray from school, that I felt the cold grasp of depression on my testicles again. It was a work of art - me avoiding it. But I can handle it better now. I got relief with another Friday and then - a peaceful meditation with my two platonic girlfriends. What a night. Sober nonetheless. How ever, I chose to pick up some Grass. There was a party going on in the Ravine that evening, after a particular concert. I worked toward the place. A place filled with drunken, stoned memories. I left behind my girlfriends for a time. I went by myself, my cash in hand, I walked through the uncut grass, past a group of kids drinking something along the lines of Heineken.  As I was about to go down, I found a Black Motorolla Razer, I would not want to be the owner of this! I picked it up and descended down into the pit. Down, down, until I was spotted and greeted. 

"Greetings." I exclaimed. 

I went up to fat, surly fellow who thinks he looks good who I knew was dealing.

"May I buy some Marijuana?" I investigated in an English Accent.

His pale complexion looked contrasting to his red cheeks and his heavily dilated pupils. He nods. I end up talking to these older fellows who show me a picture of a bon fire. I got the grass, and after showing the phone and find its owner, I joined my girls for a fine night.

The next day was an odd waiting game. A concert of the fine Indie bands Stars and Death Cab for Cutie. I won't give too much detail, but I was connected with a particular member of Young Galaxy who was opening. After this, my anxiety to smoke overcame and my Jewish friend and I came home and smoked half the grass. I was overcome with joy and ate and fell asleep. It wasn't till the morning, in my groggy voice I found myself in a world of insanity, my friend went on a date while I met this other young girl for a project and met with a teacher - all the while the piece of shit contractors antagonized my life.

And finally I found myself in the Lumber Yard of a Rona. The hot sweat on my back and forehead, the bright sun casting dangerous rays down. I was wearing a dress shirt - and Aviators. It appeared to be snowing. And the world seemed unreal for that day, and then it thunder stormed, casting aside the steaming hot life for another time and place.

We will meet again you dirty bastard.

Enjoying yourself.

I haven't posted anything in for fucking ever. I doubt anyone reads these anymore. Jerk Out Month is practically dead. LA is the only living blog. Jay and Dave haven't posted anything ...ever.

Anyway. What have I been doing? School mostly, I want to get into University, so Marks are everything. Its a little stressing, but its for a good cause. 

Now, I would enjoy telling you about my Friday night. On Friday, I had two events to go to. One was a cast party for my Drama shows, the other was a Bonfire hosted by other friends.  I was with two good friends who I'll call E and L. L is 19, therefore able to purchase alcohol and such legally. We started the night by sharing a Rockstar energy drink mixed with Vodka. Super! We then moved on to the cast party which was up the road. L had bought Gin for himself and bought some Camel Smokes for me. We hung out there for about two hours. The people were mostly doing poppers (A Bill bong with a mix of tobacco and pot) fyi, so were fairly deadbeat. We left to go to the bonfire. L ran into two sets of friends until we got back to my place, which we decided to go to to empty our bladders and for E and I to drink some whiskey. We moved on, went to the park and half way there, calling our friends at the "bonfire", we were told they were broken up by the cops! WHAT! WHAT THE FUCK! So in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, we turned around, and went back the way we came. We moved on back to the Cast Party, where I drank, L drank and E smoked some pot, for about a half hour. At that point we found out that the TTC, the subway, bus and trolley workers here in Toronto were gonna go on strike! Everyone left! L was the only one who needed to get home, so we ran. But at 11:30, the 12:01 strike was already in effect. So, my dad gave L a ride home.  E and I had a nightcap of Jack Daniels and passed out. E referred to it as a very, very sad Superbad.

Ying-Yang

So I haven't updated in twenty-three days. I'm sorry. Hopefully people still read. I'm not really inspired cause no one ever comments - *AHEM*.

So I've been noticing some very distinct different differences as the days go by with a Ying Yang attitude. There are Yings and Yangs of personalities. For example, I've been to a fair number of auditions for Film, Television and commercials in my day. I've noticed, especially in Toronto, the type of people that go to those are your average pretty boy. Sometimes a douchebag, other times nice but they will be wearing Hollister or something. Like this guy:Anyway, I don't get to too many Theatre auditions, but I recently went to one. The people there, in the waiting room were friendly! They were kinda hippyish! They were cool dudes! Imagine that! So this is sad. When I'm a director, I'm gonna try to hire actors with a mostly theatre background. Not these superficial fucks who show up to be the next Zac Efron.

Anyway, in my previous post, I talked about the asshole Bus Driver I had to deal with. They're everywhere, I was on a streetcar and the guy pissed on me for asking for a transfer after I had already got on. I say "Thank You" to almost every driver, and there are loads of nice ones. Imagine how much better your day is when you have a guy who doesn't give you a hassle or says thank you back! In fact, the Toronto Transit Commission may go on strike next week. Why? "Post traumatic syndrome". Bull fucking shit. They say they're being harassed and spit on and beaten. Here's my theory:
My guess is that the majority of them are causing it. If you're difficult to someone, they're more likely to call you an asshole, like I did - peaceful me! Also, they get paid 27 bucks an hour on average! HOLY FUCKNUTS! Work a five hour day, 5 days a week, with two months vacation, thats 200 000 dollars. Thats more than my NICE mom and dad make. So shut the fuck up, If you go on strike, you are a group of even bigger assholes than you ever were.

So in short, the world is a delicate Ying Yang. There are good forces, and bad ones, assholes and saints. You have to know how to deal with them. There are bad movies and Fucking excellent ones and everything in between. Fuck is this sounding cliche...

I need to stop bitching, I feel thats all I do. So let me review something that actually is good. My birthday is coming up a week from this Friday. WOOOOO!!! 17 years fucking old! BOOYA.

Thats all folks,


Cooper Ying Brown Yang

I'll just assume 51% assholes.

Firstly, I'd like to give a shout out to Jay over at Jerk Out Month of our fourth candidate in slow agony. Enjoy.

Anyway. The Root of this entry is from a story starting two fine days ago. On a delicious morning I woke up to get on the bus. In Toronto, Students get 1 Dollar off their fare. In exchange for this, the official rule is you're supposed to have your student ID card. I've been asked for it once in the last thee years. And I was downtown, late at night and had it in my wallet. The employees don't care enough to ask, ESPECIALLY when you have a backpack on and are going to a school. So I don't carry my card. So that morning I got on the bus and the guy carded me.

"Can I see your Student Card?" says the driver.

"I don't have it with me" I say

"You need to always have it" He responds

"But I'm clearly a student." I say

"Pay another Dollar" He says as I pull out a pocket full of change.

"You have no consistency...if you all asked for it, I'd carry it with me" I say and place the extra dollar in. As I left I didn't say thank you. I ALWAYS say thank you to the bus driver.

After school, I was walking to my neighbourhood convenience store to buy some Doritos and Chocolate Milk. I live near my school and also near many other schools. I also happen to live near the subway where these school's kids go to everyday. The convenience store is even closer to it than my house. I usually do this trek and notice the rather gangster look to many of the "fine" young gents and the preppy young women. However this fine day I happened to notice a large number.

The cherry on top of this sundae is inside the convenience store (which is quite large by the way, with a subway attached), after school there is usually about twenty of these gangpreps in there. Just loitering. No reason. No one has any money. A few do. And they hang around the chips and candy and stuff. There will also be an employee standing in the middle of it all making sure they don't shoplift. As I walk in, they are quite rowdy and manage to knock over a display case full of beef jerky. The employee sadly began picking it up as I got my milk and chips. As I was about to pay for my snack, I saw the counter employee get wild eyed and ran up to one and told him to get out. He had a big jacket on and such but kept saying he didn't steal. Weird. I bought my stuff, and walked out amongst a few guys calling each other "fucking fuckers". The intelligence was astounding.

When I came home, I was Facebook surfing when I found a picture of my friend with a orange girl. I was saddened by this. This is a picture of the girl, I took out my friend.
Anyway, the next day, I got on the bus...and guess who's there! The same fucking bus driver. And he remembered me.
"Student Card" he says
"Really, I don't have enough money to come back home" I say
"Then I'll have to let you off the bus" He says and picks up a phone attached to the bus.
"I've got a problem with a student, he's refusing to pay a fare, do you see him on the camera? Okay." He says and hangs up.
"This is ridiculous" I mention and plop 50 cents in.
"Sir, I'm gonna drop you off at the next stop if you don't pay the fare" He yells. I put another 25 cents in.
"Thats all I have" I say.
"I'm letting you out." He says as I turn back to ask my friend on the bus for 20 cents. She gives me a quarter. I put it in the box.
"There you go asshole" I say. At that, he slams on the brakes.
"GET OUT!" He yells. At this point everyone is bitching at him telling him I payed my fare. I gave in and walked out the bus.

The next bus came in 2 minutes. I got on with a student fare....

Cooper Brown

It just smells nice.

I am currently in Vancouver. This is likely one of my favourite cities in the world. For those that haven't been, GO. Toronto is not my favourite...its so...dirty. Halifax is my real home, but it doesn't have a whole hell of a lot of stuff. Vancouver...It just smells nice. Its always like 10 degrees warmer than the rest of Canada, it has that smell of moisture and pot in the air. The people are relaxed...sure theres quite a few trendy fuckers who wear Abercrombian Eagleollister. But hey - they're everywhere now! And don't get me started on the BC Bud. Everything about Vancouver and BC is great. I would love to live here. They even film Stargate here! Like, what else could I ask for? Everytime I'm in Vancouver, I hate Toronto a little more. I'm hating it quite much right now. But, In the end...the housing costs in Vancouver are fuckdiculous. Some day. One day.

Until next time,

Cooper Brown