2005-06-01
kulukukukulukuku!
ah, 'tis a sunny day and I'm doing one of my favorite things to do in the summer. stay inside the house, listening to music and fucking around, clad, of course, in a wifebeater -- the requisite summer attire of all Alberta gals.
***
this evening I am going to a panel of leaders of groups involved in a conflict over the construction of a new goldmine in Guatemala. One guy from the World Bank, a CEO of the mining company, a Guatemalan Catholic bishop who has to be under 24hr police protection because of death threats he has received for helping with the protest movement, and a leader of the Canadian Friends of the Earth environmental group. I think it will be quite fascinating. Even just to see these people interact, never mind what they actually have to say. I'm most excited to see the World Bank guy. I bet he looks just like what the AntiChrist is supposed to look like. What will I do if he's a mild-mannered elderly farmer? good gravy all my stereotypes will shot to smithereens! I'll be lost in space! Hurray!
***
don't get mad, but for the next little while it is unavoidable that I mull over just what exactly has been going on with me for the last four years.
this morning, the phrase, "talk is cheap" is key. a person can say they are giving you what you need; and that they want for you what you want; and that they don't care what you do, wear, say; that they understand what you're talking about -- but they can be lying. and not even know it.
does that count as lying? I guess not. even though the result is pretty similar.
but it does count as lying if the person is just afraid to admit what s/he knows / thinks / feels / combination of these three things.
let me know if my analysing gets annoying.
***
update: the summer shuttle bus schedule between campuses is TRES limited, and so I will not, after all, be attending the panel discussion. grumblemumblegrumble. my imaginary version will have to suffice.
Here it is:
World Bank CEO / Antichrist greets fellow panel members with enthusiastic embraces. Ensuing shuffling match as Catholic priest attempts to evade his mind-controlling grasp knocks water glasses on table over. Glass is broken. Water splashes on the floor. Environment guy cries: "Abomination! Waste not want not, cruel foes of ye preciouse cosmos!"
From behind his chair he pulls the most potent weapon of environmental protest, the baby-seal-shaped magic wand. Waving it in the air wildly, by it's cute floppy tail, he summons the powers of the universe to dehydrate all in the path of the giant brown laser eyes. Sadly, in a last minute change of heart, the goldmine CEO charges mr. environment, in an attempt to save the room. His tackle, which he admits, later, was never his strong point in college football, fails, serving merely to launch the baby seal from the arms of the earth-magician, an arc of firy doom spraying uncontrollably over the roomful of hippies, college-punks, professors, and 1st year chemistry students accidentally in the wrong classroom. 68 people are decimated. Instantly dehydrated, their unidentifiable remains are donated to the Concordia science department.
Located, suspiciously conveniently, down the hall from the tragedy.
Whew. I'm sure glad I didn't go!
pansycline at 2:42 p.m.