Author: andyveilleux

telltale love

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A divine comedy dances,

on lines etched into flesh,

long ago by the crimson beauty.

 

A foggy mirror reflects,

beams of radiant moonlight,

through the evaporating tea and milk,

 we used to drown all of our problems.

 

There's no cycle here,

no spinning wheel to,

repeat the same story.

 

There's nothing to reinvent, 

no foundation for this to ride on,

and no carriage pulled by wild horses,

symbolic of our deepest desires and dreams,

now withering and dying in the cracks of love's floor.

 

No heart beats,

beneath floor-boards,

of cryptic, rotting elegance,

to alert the proper authorities.

 

Something is screaming,

deep within my soul however,

and I'm begging for an outlet;

It will die between these lines.

The resignation of Sun TV's Kory Teneycke means nothing

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After a tumultous period as vice-president of development for Quebecor, Kory Teneycke has announced his resignation. You should be familiar with him for being the main face promoting Sun TV News AKA 'Fox News North'. I'm not going to go into the battle from Avaaz against Sun TV news, but I would like to take the time to go over what this resignation means, politically speaking.

In a nutshell, this resignation means little to nothing, despite Avaaz' exectuive director and co-founder Ricken Patel's claim that it meant "a battle won in a longer fight against crony-media in Canada." I disagree with this statement. As soon as Teneycke stepped down, Luc Lavoie was appointed to the position. Whereas Teneycke was a former Harper spokesman, Lavoie is the former spokesman of former Conservative Prime Minister Brian Mulroney spokesman. You say to-maht-o I say to-mate-o.

That being said, I do understand the significance of Teneycke being the former director of communications of the current Prime Minister. The political history was too recent for many people to feel comfortable with him heading up a news channel, which was applying for some special permits (such as the status of "must-carry" on cable channels, which means cable companies in Canada would have to carry the channel as part of their broadcasting). It is quite possible he was using some of his political power to lobby for this status, but is that really the important, bigger-picture question? No, it is not.

The important question is: How will this resignation affect the values of Sun TV News, and the Conservative view-point it is bringing? The simple answer is that it won't, which is evidenced by the hiring of Lavoie. At the end of the day, Sun TV News is still coming to Canada, and will likely be granted must-carry status, despite Avaaz' petition against it.

It is worth nothing the way that 'democracy' has been thrown around lately. Some people, such as Patel, claim biased news, such as Fox, or by induction, Sun TV News, "poisons American democracy." This claim is absurd. Democracy is best served by having a full-range of political opinion. While the opinion of the right is well-served in print media in this country, some would argue it is lacking in broadcast (some would argue differently, due to national stations like Global).

To be clear, I am not a fan of Fox News, or a person of right-wing political persuasion. In fact,  I despise Fox, and have done a lot of research into the network, and many of their failings. However, diversification of the Canadian media, and more capital being put into journalism, can only be a positive step for media in this country. In a time where news coverage is shrinking due to under-funding and cost-cutting, journalists and citizens of democracy should welcome new investment in media and new political viewpoints in the media.

The lost art of writing

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Writing isn't what it used to be. Blogs have ruined it, some say. Others say my dumb-founded generation, and the generation preceding it ruined it before that. This is too big of an issue to tackle in a blog post, but I wanted to share two prime examples of exceptionally good writing, from the modern era (last thirty years or so). I won't ruin them by explaining why I think they're great piece of writing, so that's up for you to decide. Here they are:

 

"…off to the right of this typewriter, on the floor between the beds, I can see an 8×10 print of Frank Mankiewicz yelling into a telephone at the Democratic Convention in Miami; but that one will never be used, because the god-damn hound put five big claw-holes in the middle of Frank's chest."

– from Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72

 

"I shaved carefully with an old razor

the man who had once been young and

said to have genius; but

that's the tragedy of the leaves,

the dead ferns, the dead plants;
and I walked into a dark hall
where the landlady stood
execrating and final,
sending me to hell,
waving her fat, sweaty arms
and screaming
screaming for rent
because the world has failed us
both"

– from Charles Bukowski's The Tragedy of the Leaves

do you still dance?

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I wonder what memories revive,

when you touch my hand or see my face.

 

Is what is old new again?

 

Are you lost in pillars of memory,

which impose the will of this broken architect?

 

Do my building still stand strong,

tall,

beautiful?

 

What power emanates from them,

and what force of will overtakes you,

when the sun catches their corners?

 

Do you still dance in the great hall,

of our lost, and broken-down love?

the weight of loved ones

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Skin,

eat this water.

 

It is necessary.

 

Warm , salty water crawls,

down chiseled cheeks,

rolling off a hero chin;

no sustenance. 

 

Jets of hot water slap,

my thick hair and blank face,

my skin refuses to drink it in.

 

A ghost walks into my shower,

observing the way I am curled up,

helplessly soaking in chlorinated fire,

no chemicals kill these feelings or memories.

 

The ghost sighs,

unable to affect me.

 

A lonely time,

with delusions for company,

and the weight of loved ones' feet,

pulverizing my fragile, fleeting sanity.

And all of my words were false

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I failed you,

I failed you,

I failed you,

as a lover,

and a friend.

 

The blood has drained,

the night has settled,

but the love won't leave.

 

I pour words onto the pain,

pain uses me in return by,

pointing out the futility,

of everything I've written.

 

Pain questions my words,

and on bad nights,

my dear friends,

I do the same.

sacrificial sleep

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You can read these words,

and feel sorrow touch you,

but you're not here anymore,

and no comfort finds me here.

 

There's a beast stirring,

underneath the calm waters,

of a toxic pool you left long ago.

 

Do you remember him?

 

Sleep is sacrificial,

It dies for thoughts,

which take precedence,

in the harshest of times.

 

My hands won't stop shaking,

there's a broken-down undertone,

to every smile and laugh now.

 

Fragmented thoughts,

crumble together with empathy,

as naked friends lying together,

seeking a warm body,

secretly,

a warm heart.

 

The crumbling solves nothings,

the foundation it creates,

can't support a home,

nor would it want to.

Weakness is

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One can only run away,

from their thoughts for,

a certain amount of time,

before they catch up to you.

 

They'll clutch at your heels,

rip at your tender, exposed flesh,

pull their way under your virgin skin,

until they become as much a part of you,

as the constant numb that invades your days.

 

We're told all our lives,

there is a time for strength,

never a time for weakness;

but they're wrong, broken.

 

Weakness exists, and,

humanity is weakness.

Numb floating

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Numb,

floating,

helpless,

splitting the water,

as I drift,

towards nothing,

significant.

 

What matters?

 

The tears,

touch down,

on paved street,

reeking of asphalt,

and blurry memories.

 

It was never enough.

 

Heels echo,

in crowded corridors,

where the rug tries to muffle it,

and fails miserably.

 

Pressed shirts,

dark pants and ties,

a gathering for a fallen,

cherished and loved one.

 

Pain spikes through,

the numb feelings that,

reside in fractured hearts,

pouring blood into your soul,

swelling it with pain and bruising.

 

Life's not easy,

and every loved one,

eventually leaves,

until you leave them.

 

Cold reality,

and I love you,

don't ever forget that.

 

I hope I don't,

leave you first,

I couldn't bear,

the thought of you sad,

on my unworthy account,

my dearest of friends and loved ones.

 

Times are tough,

and they'll get tougher still,

but we hold hands and heart,

and rebel against death the best we can.

 

That's the only way.

a special day

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1:03,

and it's a special day,

a big dawn coming for all.

 

We will remember you,

always,

memories of you,

indestructible,

vivid.

 

I remember you smiling,

in no-so-distant flashbacks;

your benevolence changed us.

 

An angel passes,

we must all grow stronger.