Faces From The Past

Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,



This week I saw 2 faces from my days as a slave to Gastown's Brothers' Restaurant. On Monday I ran into Liz at the front of the Main Library and on Friday I saw Jason working at a Italian restaurant in New Westminster.



Liz



She is now a second-year engineering student at UBC. I'm glad to hear that. Although, I have yet to be friends with a UBC engineer who is a "red jacket". Liz has yet to work with the new owners, which is lucky for her. Although, she did meet them when she dropped by to retrieve her T-4 from them. From that brief encounter she now understands why everyone left.



I hope to catch up with her now that she's back in the lower mainland. She spent a year up north planting trees. She's a cool person that made me laugh. I'm sure easily impressible by people that make me laugh.



Jason



He was apart of the last remnants of the old regime. He was also apart of the mass exodus after the Valentine's Day Massacre of 2003. It's good to hear he's up and about. He too is a funny guy.



Anyway I gotta go now to see Kill Bill again at the Norm.



End Transmission.

Brother Ron

Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,



When I have a rare window of opportunity to write my blog I try to do as much as I can about varied subjects.



My friend Dave (Hoffmann that is, not Claassen) informed me that being a leap year this year, we can finally commemorate the death of Brother Ron. The fucker died on a leap year, such a Bro. Ron thing to do.



For those not in the know and did not attend the Catholic penal correction centre otherwise known as Vancouver College, there was once a teacher and Christian Brother of the Edmundian Order named Brother Ron. In addition to his tenure at VC, he volunteered in programs aimed at helping the depressed, desolate, and others that most of society tends to ignore about. He was wise, a tortured soul, and a pretty cool guy to boot.



Unlike my colleagues, I was not acquainted with the man during my tenure at the school. I had met him for brief moments and sure as hell kept hearing about him from my friends.



I became acquainted after my graduation from the school. This was mainly due to my heavy involvement with the school via coaching football at first the Junior Varsity and then Varsity level, and by being the perpetual chaperone and supporter for my younger brother's high school basketball career.



It was during this time that I would finally have my conversations with this peculiar brother who had a penchant for Hawaiian shirts. It was then that I understood the hype and acclaim that my friends had garnered him. I cherished these talks with this man. Unlike other people, one knew that this man knew what true pain and depression was, either by a witness to or by experiencing it first-hand. He was aware of the hardship, anxiety, and depression I experienced throughout the latter half of my high school experience. Especially in my senior year. It was like something only veterans and teammates could only understand. He could see beyond the shell of stoicism that I projected and still do in a way.



I still to this day keep in my room a card from his funeral and a copy of the VC newspaper with the article where my friend John Mulholland interviewed Brother Ron because he felt the entire school should be made aware of this relatively unknown treasure. This also happens to be the same issue where I myself made my debut as a writer and added to my unlikely presence on campus.



While Brother Ron's passing a leap year ago was a sad occasion for me and everyone blessed to be in his presence, and throughout the years the circumstances behind it have been accumulating intrigue, Brother Ron would be pissed at us all for mourning him. He would prefer that we celebrate his life. For a man like him, one that has seen more than his fair share of death, that means a lot.



If my friends and I actually get together to celebrate the life of Brother Ron, then I'm sure to wear a Hawaiian shirt and that many a charred dead animal carcass will be consumed.



In the mean time, Sunday is Robbie Burns Day. I hope that my Football Club, DSBH, and you all have fun. To quote a famous Scotsman: "LET'S GET PISSED!!!"



End Transmission.

Poetry Time, After A Message From The Blogger

Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,



Like I posted last time, I promised a poem.



Before that though, a little comment about the AMS Elections. This was the first time I became involved in scholastic politics since high school. After years of not wanting to be involved in post-secondary extra-curricular activities, for the past year or so I've been making up for lost time. As for the AMS elections, I volunteered because Gerald asked if I wanted to. Spencer Keys seemed pretty knowledgeable about UBC code and about stuff in general. If Gerald thought Spencer was worth the stress he'd undergo through, then I thought "why not". And off I went into this web of UBC politics and slates and what not. I never knew about any of this stuff, of course prior to this campaign I never really much cared. Over the course of this campaign I went from thinking Spencer could make a good AMS VP External to believing that he should be AMS VP External. As qualified as the other candidates were, Spencer would transition to this position with relative ease. So on Friday evening I arrive home after a day of putting up barbwire fencing at my friend's "family farm" (at least they tell me it's a "farm". They were German, had guard dogs, and a watch tower, so you never know. He's probably reading this, so if I "disappear" you'll have clue as to why. Either that or he'll just smack me in the head on Sunday at our soccer game.) I was tired and realized if I went to UBC for the election results I'd be stuck there more or less. I could have driven my uncle's car, but, that heap is in worse condition than my van, and I might fall asleep at the wheel due to the day I had. So I begrudgingly opted to stay home and wait for the results via the internet. I wished I was at Koerner's Pub with the other campaigners. They and Spencer put on a valiant effort. Personally I blame the butterfly ballot and the hanging chad. I'm sure Spencer will go on to bigger and better enterprises in the future and he will in all likelihood receive my vote.



And now on a lighter note, the poem.



Interface

Tick tock

the minutes pass

no inspiration

no brain activity



Tick –tock

trapped

engulfed in shadows

the only source of light

originating from a screen

the blank screen of my PC

the screen where a 650 to a 750 word

review on a collection of poetry

should

nay,

must reside

for I may lose

a whopping ten percent

of my final grade



But my mind is a blank

desolate and empty

like the computer screen

I’m staring at

desolate and empty

like the dark pit of a room

that I currently occupy



I need to relax

I need a distraction



So I close my word program

carefully manipulating

the cursor with my mouse

and click on the icon

simply titled

internet



After the eerie

dial tone and subsequent

indescribable noises

resonating from the

cold emotionless tower of

wires and chips

a sound that pierces

the very depths of my soul

much like the emergency broadcast system

that bleats every so often from TV

I am finally on the net





However

I face the same dilemma as before

no relevant thought persists

and thus

don’t know where to go

yet, unlike before

there is only one place to travel

lost, bored, or brain-dead

a search engine



At my very fingertips

like an omnipotent deity

I can explore any region on the globe

learn the secrets of the universe

embrace the true meaning

of the super information highway

but something beckons

something primal

carnal

an animal instinct which overcomes

I obey



I type only five buttons

P-O-R-N, Enter

within a few nano-seconds

I am brought face to face

with over two million sites

dedicated to porn

as far as that cursor could scroll

porn

there were animals

kids

teens

B&D

S&M

water sports

machines

trees?

fisting

I had to stop scrolling

for I was overcome with porn



In desperation

I venture forth

on the last site I see

mothers in heat at www.yummymummies.com

there are just things

that weren’t meant to be seen













I scroll again

this time I choose carefully

lesbian chat at www.womenonly.com/chat

although the chance of talking

with a real lesbian

let alone a woman is unlikely

I’m bored and I play along



I choose the name of Tracie

and begin telling people

that I’m wearing some skimpy

satin lace lingerie

and that I experimented

in an all girl high school

with my PE teacher

Coach Johnson



Tick tock

the minutes pass

and become hours

I look at my digital watch

frozen

terrified that I am still

650 to 750 words short

on my poetry review assignment

The Week and Then Some That Was

Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,



Last week was Arts Week at UBC. It was pretty much a blur for me. Not as much as some involved with Arts Week, but, the little that I did was enough of "Gong Show" for me. Let's recap shall we?



Monday:



This was the first day of the club booth days. For me it was an overlap of sorts from Club Days 2 where I had to convince marks . . . err . . . people about the many attributes one may garner from becoming involved with the History Students' Association. Along with an HSA display consisting HSA propaganda (of which most were constructed before my joining of the club) we had a laptop displaying history related programming, and our traditional quiz game ("IQ 2000: TransCanada Highway" circa 1984) with a chocolate reward system. Who knew Canadian and general trivia from 1984 could be so difficult (hell some of these questions stumped “Mr. Trivia Savant” Dave), and that a lot of people liked Halloween-style snack-sized chocolate treats? To my surprise people signed up to join. Not just that, some of them actually paid.



Tuesday:



The last day of club booth days. This was just like the day before. Some more joined and some even paid. In addition to the ghetto-tastic HSA booth, Tuesday was the day of the HSA Arts Week Event. For our event the HSA did a “Quiz Challenge”. Much like the booth version, but, on a grander scale. Okay, maybe not. It was more like a “Trivia Ghetto Gong Show”. Chocolate served as points and whoever had the least amount of choco-points would not make it to the next round. When the dust settled, we were down to 2 final participants. On one end stood the AUS’s own Jen Collins, and on the other end stood her opponent (who reminded me a lot like a certain film critic). Anyway the battle was close or atleast that’s the impression I tried to give by making it sudden death. Nope. Still no winner decided. What does one do? Did someone mention “Rock, Paper, Scissors” best 2 out of 3? Well that would be correct. And on and on . . . and on it went. Jen was so close to victory but her mind was distracted with the need to attend her next class. In that moment of distraction she lost, or maybe se threw the game, but in any case, she got to keep her accumulated chocolate. For her opponent, the inaugural “Quiz Challenge Cup”. The grand prize comprised of a travel mug and an assortment of coffees, teas, and coffee accessories, all packaged within the confines of some fancy looking bag. Later on intrigue would arise as to the possibility of Jen actually winning the event on the basis of total choco-point accumulation. This might be the case; it was hard assess how many choco-points she may have earned at the end. Either way, I guess I’ll owe her a case or something.



Later that night I was supposed to go to an indoor futsol scrimmage to get everyone back in shape for the latter half of the Richmond Senior Soccer League Division 2 season. When I rushed home to get ready for soccer I was later informed that it was cancelled. I think the excuse given was either Jon (he teaches their and would therefore provide us the practice space) didn’t get to sleep till 9am that morning or he worked till 9pm. Either way there was no soccer to be had and I would have been able to have made it to “Open Night”. From all reports, that event was a fun time for those who came.



Wednesday:



What did I do this day? Oh yeah, I was in MASS helping the French Club make free crepes for their Arts Week Event. I keep forgetting that I’m their Social Coordinator for some reason. I started out as a general member. Went to their Wine & Cheese and some how agreed to be a General Officer for their Exec. Then I attended an Exec meeting and some how became a Social Coordinator. So here I am and there I was helping out with the crepes. I started out as the plate distributor and then became the pourer of the batter. Either way people came en mass. I attribute the popularity to Chef John’s culinary skills and to Axelle’s secret recipe. Also, the fact that university students tend to like things that are free. So hey, free crepes and they were tasty. Nuff said.



Thursday:



AUS Booth time. I tried to get people to purchase tickets for Mardi Gras. They kept running away for some reason and screaming in the distance. I mean what’s wrong with a tall dark guy offering people candy? Never mind.



Later that night was the Poetry Jam. I wanted to attend but I had soccer practice that night, as I do every Thursday evening. Perhaps next time I will post my poem that I wrote as my performance piece for my poetry creative writing class back in Langara. Its prosaic, it sucks, so it should be fine for my blog.



DSBH soccer was fun that night. It was apparent that some of us were not in the best physical condition. Hopefully this will be remedied I the oncoming weeks.



Friday:



More Booth time. I then went hand billing for Mardi Gras across the campus to try to garner more patrons. Again, more people running away and screaming. I’m a horrible salesperson.



Next off to Mardi Gras!!! I helped decorate. When I say “decorate” I mean helping unravel crepe paper and hanging these decorations made by Ari and friends. Then I sold tickets out front. Then I was whisked away to the “drink” ticket booth. Artsy me and math calculations don’t mix. Thank god Jules was there or it could have gotten ugly as I tried to calculate change in my head. Then it was drinky drinky time. Slurpees good. Beer good. I believe at some point in the evening there was a dance competition on stage between SPAN and Students For Students. Nothing proves the superiority of your slate then a dance-off. And then the clean-up. Anytime where no vomit in a bathroom is involved is always good with me.



After clean-up, my backpack and jacket were nowhere to be found. These items would be located over the course of the weekend (thanks Dave), but, at the time I was a little peeved.



And then the ceremonial wait for my younger bro to pick me up. I felt bad that Dave and Spencer waited for an hour or so for my brother to show up. To make me wait is one thing, but, to make others wait as well because they wanted me to get home safely makes me want lay the smack to my trusted bro. It’s just infuriating for a 30-40 minute drive when there’s no traffic at all to take that long.



Saturday:



Saw my new baby cousin in the Women’s and Children’s Hospital on Oak St. Denzel. They named him Denzel. Its funny how you can tell when one is born by the name one is given. I still don’t know where my parents came up with “Karl”. Whatever.



Mike’s B-day Bonanza. Didn’t go to the dinner, but, went clubbing with them. Don’t understand why Mike green-lit a dance club on Latin night. Especially since Mike does not like dance club environments. So that didn’t last long. We tried to find an alternative venue but couldn’t. So some of us crashed at John’s place and watched “Family Guy” episodes.



Sunday:



First game back into the second half of the soccer season. Too bad it was against JP Malones. I HATE THIS TEAM. The fact that we lost to them 3-2 when we should have won does not contribute to why I HATE this club team. They are all a bunch of mouthy, hot dogging, cheap playing punk kids. We’re not the only ones with a beef with them. The entire league hates them. Referees have refused to work their games because of their conduct. One of our players got a red while 2 of theirs got reds. Peter was kinda pissed since BRIAN TANAKA spiked in the leg with his metal cleats. His leg still bleeds to this day. By the end of the game we wanted to fight them for real in a brawl. After much consideration, I believe my club would have mopped the floor with them.



DSBH Roster that day:



Dan - He is a martial artist and could easily incapacitate atleast 5 people on his own



Jason - Crazy and scrappy. He could hold his own.



Jon - He used to box and was ready to throw down that day.



Dave - One of those small wiry guys that can fight and fights dirty.



McBeath - Angry as fuck and likes to fight.



Gatt - Crazy (do you sense a common theme with the make-up of DSBH?).



Peter - He has anger management issues. Plus he already received that red card for defending himself.



Harvey - From England. He seems like he’s been through many a pub room brawl.



Bri - I’m sure he’d be fine. But, due to his medical situation I don’t want him in the middle of the action.



Bardy - He came near the end to watch. But he’s pretty built.



Sam - Never seen him in a fight. Who knows?



Dom - I’m told he could hold his own. And if it gets really bad, “friends” are just a phone call away.



Elliot - Pretty solid individual.



Mark - Ditto.



Tim - He’s a scary looking German. Nuff said.



C-Nut - God love ’em. I’m sure he could get a few punches in. But you never know.



Matty - Same as above. But then again he’s a crazed postal worker in waiting.



Karl (me) - I could take maybe one. If I’m not too badly beaten then maybe another. Of course I’d us weapons and pretend I was in E.C. F’n W.



Jason - Not a player, but, was there. He tends to fight a feral animal. Plus he likes knives.



Chew - Took some Kung Fu lessons. Knows this Filipino slap fighting crap. I dunno.



To say the least, we were pissed-off at JP Malones and at any given moment some of them would end up in Richmond General. I hear they might be moved up to division 1. Up there they have skilled players adept at taking out knees and careers when opponents become unruly and unsportsmanlike. Have fun JP Malones unless the league throws you guys out like they should. Then perhaps you guys can try your hand at Vancouver Metro. They’ll eat you alive.



If anyone’s noticed me being slightly pissed off, it’s because of this. I FUCKING JP MALONES!!!



Monday:



AUS Council meeting. Did anyone say drama? If an undergrad wanted to sit in on a council meeting this would have been it.



Wine & Cheese. Free wine? Free food? How can I resist?



Tuesday:



Worked on my friend’s family farm in Surrey. If anyone wondered why I’m aching it is because of the manual labour I did. I dug a trench/ditch, cleared a bramble patch, cleared some debris, and helped take down barbwire fencing. The place looked more like a POW camp then an herb farm.



Rushed back to Richmond for a make-up league game. The League game became a friendly because the ref never showed up. This make-up game keeps getting delayed. Why? As for the friendly, to quote Tim, “Disgraceful.” Simply put that was how we played.



Wednesday:



Hung out in the AUS Office and went to an HSA meeting. I’m fulfilling my portfolio and I’m tired.



End Transmission.

I Miss Driving

Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,



I really should catch some sleep before the "Arts Week" Poster Party, but, I really want to get this off my chest. I miss driving. More importantly I miss driving MY van. As fun as Translink can be, I don't enjoy not being able to drive for the sake of driving and I don't enjoy walking 2-3 hour long treks home because there is no more transit, I can't afford a cab, and my family has sold me out yet again. Sure my friends always tell me that I'm crazy for doing so and that I should have asked them for a ride, but, I just don't like being a burden. Also, when this scenario is reversed, I always offer and give rides. I guess I watched too many Sgt. Slaughter episodes of G.I. Joe and took the whole "We all go home, or nobody goes home" to heart. I've driven as far as Surrey and North Delta to make sure someone got home in one piece. I tend to go out of my way for people in general. Before my brother drove, I pretty much drove him everywhere when I wasn't working or in class. Since he was on the basketball team, I became a pseudo-parent/chaperone.



Now that he has a license (only an "N" due to the myriad of B.C. loop holes), it is now unthinkable that he (my brother) should "gasp" take transit anywhere, let alone to Langara College. Oh my, it's a whopping 2 busses! I used to attend Langara and I had to take the bus. Why is it too good for him and not me? I remember tearing my MCL, walking around in crutches, and still taking the bus to and from Langara College.



I know the van is really the family's van and that it was given to me only because it was cheaper for my dad, but, for a brief period of time I owned the vehicle. I paid for the insurance, gas, and repairs. However, within the span of a month my flawless driving record and the discounted insurance premiums that came with it were lost when my brother was a part of 2 accidents. My father then started paying the insurance for the van again. According to legal documentation the van was mine, but, the reality was that it was not. But I still paid for all the gas, maintenance, and repairs.



The more my brother drove, the less I did. However, the amount of $$$ I spent for the upkeep of the van steadily increased. One would hope that now that he drives the van primarily, he could pick me up or drop me off within the city limits of Vancouver. Apparently, that became too inconvenient for him. It got to the point where I was paying over $100 a week on gas alone, but, could not get a measly 15-20 minute drive to or from work.



So how did I respond? I stopped paying for the van. It was not mine in the first place. Plus I needed the money for tuition, books, and bus fare.



Now under the care of my brother, the van is slowly falling apart. The radio no longer works. Neither do the interior lights. I smell the scent of something burning through the air vents, probably originating from underneath the hood. The engine sputters. There is a sound that Vanessa described as reminiscent of a hockey card flapping against bicycle spokes. The shotgun seat is broken because my brother's 7 foot tall teammate sat in it and is now being propped up by a piece of lumber (the seat that is, not the my brother's teammate). And there is a gash on the passenger side because my brother misjudged the distance between him and a tree or whatever it was, also he said it was a scratch and that all he needed was some primer. It was gash and by no means a scratch.



When I drove the van I thought I finally replaced enough of the parts that my worries would be at a minimum. But, now all my work was for naught. This vehicle that I once drove to Whistler, Cloverdale, Langley, Abbotsford, Tsawassen, Seattle, Spokane, and beyond in semi-confidence is no more. I'm surprised if I can make it to and from UBC in the thing now.



On that fateful day when the Astrovan dies, I will go through plenty of emotions. The majority of which will go towards suppressing the urge to inflict bodily harm to my brother or worse. Other than that it will be a loss of a link to a past where I remember being happy and had family who didn't sell me out.



Okay who wants to make some posters?



End Transmission.

Post "Drinky Drinky Smashy Smashy" Report

Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,



Wow back in school. All I do is wait for graduation in May. Until then I fill my time with HSA, AUS, French Club, DSBH Soccer, and now an AMS campaign. At least I don't have to worry about pesky exams or research papers. I could take a really cool class or something, but, I would rather not spend on another class and the subsequent books that said class would require. Anyway, on with the show, eh.



As I've mentioned before, my friends and have a New Year's tradition we dub "Drinky Drinky Smashy Smashy". Pretty self-explanatory. We drink and then we smash. This is I believe the third installment of the "Drinky Drinky Smashy Smashy" saga, also known as "Smashy's Revenge". Although, I attend these outings, this year was the first time that I was able participate in the smashing. In previous years I always arrived late, well after the smashing and midnight, because I was at work in a restaurant in the ghetto part of Gastown dressed as a monk. Due to this predicament, I would arrive and try to play catch-up as I would listen to them describe the carnage that I missed out on. Last year I found memorable because I arrived with my dinner from McDonald's, and to my astonishment everyone had glassy eyes and were some how very very hungry. So within 5 minutes of me leaving the McDonald's Drive-Thru on Marine, I was back talking to the same lady except this time armed with over 10 orders written on a scrap piece of paper so I could keep track of them all.



Oh my I've already digressed with back story to "Drinky Drinky Smashy Smashy". So where was I? Oh yeah, grrr . . . Karl smash!!! So here I am, all poised to have myself a smashing good time. But, like most things that happen to me in the ongoing inside joke that is my life, a wrench has to be thrown in to make things peachy keen. A day before New Year's Eve I get sick. This was a bizarre cold/flu strain for me. Usually I cough alot and so hard that I keel over in pain whilst I am congested up the ying-yang. However, at the time I felt especially miserable, dizzy, groggy, and sore all over, even more-so in my joints. Did I let this stop me? To quote the great bard, "Oh hellz no!!!" So off I went to DSBH Central, the site of "Smashy's Revenge", McKinley Manor. I would spend the evening self medicating myself on Extra Strength Neo-Citron, Buckley's Original Mix, and alcohol. To the very least I was comfortably numb. Who knew you could make an alcoholic drink with orange Gatorade powder? And who knew it would make these drinks taste like jello shots? Just to warn those attempting to experiment with powdered Gatorade, if you add soda it will fizz like a mofo, so beware. And so this continued until 11:00pm. At the stroke of 11pm we marched into the backyard. This year's treasures consisted of ceramic sculptures a plenty, a VCR, a ghetto blaster, a microwave, and the grand prize a TV. In regards of weaponry, we had a golf club (either a driver or wedge, I dunno), a crowbar, and an axe that doubled as a sledge hammer, possessed a gripped handle, and was named "The Maddox". You know, there is nothing more invigorating than wielding an axe on enough medicine and alcohol to sanitize a used toilet. And then I did the ether and it was all downhill. Oops, that was a movie. So I swung. And swung. And swung some more. They just kept staring at me. Staring. Goading me. I had to make them stop. Bloody . . . uhm . . . inanimate objects . . . yeah that's it . . . "inanimate objects". I smashed 'em good with "The Maddox" and then I gave it an elbow drop Macho Man style. Oh yeah.



The smashing was everything I thought it would be and more. If it weren't for the inclement weather there would have been even more in attendance. But it was still a magical experience for me. There is discussion of moving the fourth installment of "Drinky Drinky Smashy Smashy" to a larger venue to encompass the increasing popularity of the event. Sure, my immediate family that shares the same last name with me sold me out New Year's Day, but, I've come to not expect anything less from them. That just makes things interesting right?



End Transmission.

Rachel Davis Rest In Peace

Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,



Hello All,



Normally I would be wishing you all a belated New Year's Eve, but, over the weekend Saturday evening at approximately 4am one of our brethren died right outside of the Purple Onion. Our late Rachel Davis exited the Purple Onion and was waiting for her friend who was still inside using the washroom. Outside, Rachel saw someone getting the crap beaten out of him. She decided to try and stop what was happening. For her troubles and Good Samaritanship she was shot in the head.



I didn't see her much after she left Brothers' way back when. But, I did see her every now and then. I thought it was awesome that we had mutual friends. She had that look on her face that looked as if she was up to something mischievous and she always made me laugh.



Sorry to bum you out guys and gals, but, I thought that you all needed to know.



If you want to send your condolences to Rachel's family, I'm sure that there will be some information in the news papers. But, for those outside B.C. or even Canada, you probably browse the Vancouver section of www.canada.com for more details since they have the online versions of the Vancouver newspapers.



Rachel Davis Rest In Peace.



Later Days,



Karl



End Transmission.