STILL LIFE WITH JUNE by Darren Greer 

Cameron Dodds has just turned thirty. A writer, he get his ideas from the lives of others, often borrowing stories from the patients of his workplace, a Salvation Army Treatment Centre. When one of the patients hangs himself, Cameron sees an opportunity for a story -- maybe even a novel. He begins to research the dead mans past and discovers he has a sister, June, a grown woman with Down''s Syndrome. As Cameron develops a relationship with June, he makes many discoveries, none of which is more surprising than the one he makes about himself.

BLINDNESS by Jose Saramago

This is quite simply the best, and most personally relevant book I have ever read. The story of an unexplained mass epidemic of site loss afflicting nearly everyone in an unnamed city, and the social breakdown that swiftly follows. The sudden onset and unexplained origin and nature of the blindness cause widespread panic, and order rapidly unravels as the government attempts to contain the apparent contagion via increasingly repressive and inept measures.

The author chronicles a handful of characters who are among the first to be stricken and centers around a doctor and his wife, several of the doctor’s patients, and assorted others, thrown together by chance. This group bands together  to survive by their wits and by the unexplained good fortune that the doctor’s wife has escaped the blindness. Somehow she is the only person immune to the contagion of blindness. The novel delves into some brilliantly brave and insightful themes when it suggests that it may not be good fortune after all, and may really be a fate worse than blindness?

Her sighted reality forces her into becoming responsible for the blind inmates, yet she admits that the pressures of caring for a band of helpless people exhausts her, and she even begins to wish she too were blind. She murders two sadistic inmates in the asylum where the blind are contained and helps the others escape the quarantine. As often happens in times of plague, the immune are viewed with mistrust and disdain, in this case by the other city dwellers, as no one knows how or why she retained her sight when the rest of the country was struck blind.

HEY NOSTRADAMUS! by Douglas Coupland

A disturbing, though ultimately very human novel by Canadian author, Douglas Coupland, the Gen X poster boy of the 90's. It centres around a fictional 1988 school shooting in suburban Vancouver, British Columbia and its aftermath(more than loosely based on the events of the Columbine massacre) in suburban Vancouver, British Columbia and its aftermath.

This is Coupland's most critically acclaimed novel, first published by Random House of Canada in 2003. The novel takes an ambitious premise by employing four first-person narratives, each from the perspective of a character directly or indirectly affected by the shooting. Intertwining substantial themes, of adolescent love, sex, religion, prayer, grief, and human frailty, this is a work that will stay with you weeks after you close the last page.

PROMISCUITY'S by Naomi Wolf

Some of you may recal that in 2008 I posted a video by Naomi Wolf,  The End of America: A Letter of Warning to a Young Patriot, where the author takes a historical look at the rise of Fascism in America.

Promiscuity's, from a decade and a half earlier, is another seering indictment of current culture and it's disastrous effects on the sexuality of young women.

Through a wonderfully personal, yet academically focused narrative, Wolf reports on and analyzes the shifting patterns of contemporary adolescent sexuality, often with convincing claims that the staples of modern literature are rife with examples of male coming-of-age stories, covered autobiographically by D. H. Lawrence, Tobias Wolff, J. D. Salinger, and Ernest Hemingway, and covered misogyny by Henry Miller, Philip Roth, and Norman Mailer.

Wolf insists, however, that female accounts of adolescent sexuality have been systematically suppressed. She adduces cross-cultural material to demonstrate that women have, trans historically, been celebrated as more carnal than men. Wolf also argues that women must reclaim the legitimacy of their own sexuality by shattering the polarization of women with male centric line divisions such as the still powerful virgin / whore paradigm.

Anyone who, like Ms. Wolf, was born in the 1960s--will have a very hard time putting down 'Promiscuities'. Told through a series of emotive reflections and brave confessions, her book is a fascinating exploration of the complex and still largely unexamined themes around the sexuality and desire of women.

DO IT ANYWAY by Courtney Martin

The author of Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters, and a regular blogger at Feministing, Ciourtney Martin brings us Do It Anyway, a refreshing take on social justice issues, and how each of us personally navigates the complex process of deciding what it is that really matters, what it is we truly believe, and what it is we stand for in a world where standing for something has never been more urgent.

From the publishers notes:

For anyone who cares about social change but hate feel-good platitudes, "Do It Anyway " is the book for you. Courtney Martin's rich profiles of the new generation of activists dig deep, to ask the questions that really matter: How do you create a meaningful life? Can one person even begin to make a difference in our hugely complex, globalized world?

Though what I really connected to in Courtney's book was her clear allowance of room for a type of activism appropriate to the individual, based on a number of complex identity pillars. Never has the phrase, "the personal is the political" been given better application. While making sure not to descend into the assimilation slide of "appropriate" activism, Courtney holds personal comfort with actions as an individual, fluid decision, always open and changing with experience and context. Stripping that idea down to it's base form, her message is simple; there is room for everyone if the goal is to make the world measurably better than it is.

So what are you reading this September?

However, back to my tardiness. Very simply, I needed a break. Between personal events and a rather beneficial, however sudden, interest in my writing from the publisher end of the spectrum, I needed to increase my focus, while decreasing the number of things available to focus on.

I also decided I would not return to these pages until

1. I had somewhat of a handle on the real, 3D events that occupy my time.
2. I had something relevant to contribute.

In reference to number one, I wouldn't say everything is under control, though I will say it's moved into manageable mode. More on that in a bit.

Regarding number two, some background is required. The last several months that I was actively blogging, I began to feel very jaded and disinterested in what I was beginning to view as a rather unhealthy social dynamic behind why we write online. The ability to toss all manner of invective from behind cover of a computer screen, will often serve as potent narcotic to the social malcontent. The one who you would of course barely hear a peep from face to face. But give them an anon forum and they become the erudite, witty, though often, exceedingly cruel commenter of the day.

And while I have no issue in any sense of cutting someone off at their knees, and am actually quite adept at the skill, there were some deeper issues I needed to address. For me, engaging that type of vitriol had never been an issue, however I began to consider that, regardless of intent, what I am putting out there does not come with a deconstructionist guide to my intent. If I respond with negativity, however pure and free of ill will my motivation is, the reality is I am still putting out negative energy in the attempt to garner the winning point. A negative vibe is a negative vibe, no matter how well we can frame it or hide behind it's ethical intent.

Frankly, I got sick of being a part of that. While I am not in any way saying that my responses from now forward will be peace, love and sunshine, I have made a promise to myself that anything I write in this forum will take the higher road. Period.

Back to my contention that personal events have become manageable. Well, yes and no. Though I have never really discussed my mothers cancer, I suppose it is time to do that. Mom had a wonderful reprieve for the better part of the last year and took the opportunity to travel with my father, sometimes with myself, and do the many things she had always wanted to do, but over the years had placed them on the back burner. I am happy and proud to say that her last several months have truly been a gift to her, and a blessing to my father and me.

Unfortunately, all good things eventually do come to an end. Lasst month, after some concerning experiences with memory and day to day cognition, we were given word that the cancer had spread to her brain. The doctors have given a generous (in my estimation) timeline of survival being no more than two to four months. Currently I am staying at their home in Ottawa, having requested and been granted a personal leave from the university, and will stay here until this trajectory is complete.

Some, I'm sure, will think it an odd time to return to writing in this space; I couldn't disagree more. For someone who takes comfort and finds grounding direction in the the transfer of subjective idea to objective chronicle, writing through difficult personal events is nothing less than a life line.

I realize many will also be wondering; so let me be clear. Yes, I am okay, and yes, I am getting by. It is what it is, and that completely fucking sucks, but it's also something that we had been expecting.This is in no way a surprise for any of us. So, I'm dealing as best I can, offering realistic support to both mom and dad where I am able, while keeping momentum low, patterns consistent, and a goal of balance as a central theme. While difficult, I can assure you, I would not trade the gift of time we were given this past year for anything.

So, while I make no promises to the frequency of postings or the quality of all content :), I do hope that you will return to the site, as well as engage and contribute in the comments as you see fit..

Twenty two life saving tips! Of course this should only apply to those sorry saps unlucky enough to actually star in one. Because if your life is actually resembling something from the horror / slasher genre, well, in that case, your survival is infinitely more complicated than any remedy offered here.

Best of luck.

But I suppose the pointers couldn't hurt.

1. If the killer has stalked you over the phone lines, don’t take a job as a phone counselor.
2. After you manage to kill the monster/killer, never sit beside it and cry. It will suddenly pop back up to finish the job.
3. Never go to camp or become a counselor. You’ll be dead by the end of summer.
4. Never say “I’ll be right back.” You won’t be back. End of story.
5. Always be nice to the shy, quiet, unpopular girl in school.
6. Clowns never have, nor will they ever be helpful to hang around while in a horror movie. As harmless as the might seem, they WILL kill you once you let your guard down.
7. Never go back for anything you lost
8. .Avoid people with pointy teeth.
9. Never buy your kid a toy that talks back.
10. Remember: Just say “NO” to human blood.
11. Pigs blood ain't any better!
12. Never answer the phone when you are babysititng. Just get the hell out of there and leave the kids for dead.
13. If you hear a strange noise coming from upstairs that sounds similar to, oh let’s say a severed head falling to the floor, don’t go trying to find out what it is.
14. Never wait until you NEED the gun to check and see if it’s loaded.
15. Never try to unmask the killer. You know it's never going to be good.
16. Never hide in a closet.
17. If you buried your cat in a strange place, and it came back as a smelly hell kitty, I'd think twice about doing the same thing to your son and wife!
18. Don’t make a documentary that requires you to hike through the woods while looking for a witch that leaves stick figures hanging in trees.
19. And if you do make such a documentery, for the love of God, blow your fucking nose
20. If a giant shark is chasing your family, don’t go swimming. Actually, stay away from the water, period.
21. If you are babysitting, don’t let the kids play with the Chucky doll.
22. If a cop calls and says the prank phone calls are "coming from inside the house" - GET OUT! NOW! You're only getting paid, what, five bucks an hour to babysit? Leave the fucking rug rats.

Because really, the camp value in this is too delicious for words.

So I welcome you to the sparse, yet richly symbolic and interpretative portrayal of that seventies classic, The Exorcist.

ACT 1:

Iraq, before it was "Iraq". A hot, dusty, architectural dig where we see several skinny dogs go nuts on each other, rabidly barking through the entire scene, we see several women with foggy, glassy, grey eye wearing peasant clothes, and last but not least we see a sickly priest. Yes, it's "The Exorcist". Hint- you'll see him soon. Oh and what is he doing? Popping a nitroglycerin tab?!?!  For the slow among you, that would be what we creative types call "foreshadowing".

Never mind. It's a sophomoric attempt at foreshadowing that screams instead of whispers. And besides, no one got it when it first premiered anyway.

ACT 2:

Several years later. Washington DC, in early fall. A majestic brownstone just off the campus of Georgetown.

Where a sexy, but respectable Ellen Burstyn is playing the role of Chris MacNeil, a SERIOUS ACTRESS, whose central character trait it would seem, is to be smartly swathed in monochromatic rayon "twin sets", while filming a polemic about student activism.

Yeah, yeah, get to the goods I know.

Ok, meet the SERIOUS ACTRESS, and also a "mom".

Meet, Chris MacNeil.

Who, it seems, spends inordinate amount of her screen time in that specific turtleneck, and gets tons of mileage out of that pert little bob, as she shakes it all over the set, while at the same time clutching her head and making deep, audible gasps.

Thanks Ellen.

And of course we have "Rags", or Regan.

Who, let's just get this out of the way early on, sounds not too swift on the uptake, and if I was to be more succinct, somewhat "slow".

We are first introduced to the darling plaything of Satan as she is talking about "that B E A U T I F U L horse". Then, the moment all parents live to get right. Bit it's this moment however that Chris fails at; because in the end I bet she's saying,  "Damn I KNEW I should have thrown that fucking wee je board out".

Days later. Cut to one of mom's "actor" parties, the usual nelly queens, fag hags and lounge lizards in abundance. They are just having a swell old time singing Cole Porter around the piano...

In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked upon as something shocking....

...Heaven knows, anything goes.

Why yes, apparently anything does "go".

Like Regan.

All over the carpet.

Stream of yellow consciousness pissing like the dickens.

Not to be ushered away just yet, Rags drops the money quote,

"You're going to die up there Berk".

OOPS. See Burk is a space man. Due to head up that way any old day now. It's also subtly implied he is banging mama. Who, as usual, is grunting and grabbing her head, shaking that perky red bob as she hauls the little attention seeker off to get cleaned up.

Yes, Regan is becoming quite the handful it would seem.

You know, you'd think pissing on the floor during a grown up party and telling a drunk astro man he is going to kick would be enough. But NO.

FIRST, the bed shakes.

"Mommy , mommy make it stop"

Then there is that troubling little scene where she grabs the doctors nuts.

On cue, mommy looks all unintentionally sexy as shakes the perky bob, grabs head in hands and grunts. Rinse, repeat. Several times.

But alas, the tension mounts.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING TO MY BABY"?

Things get serious. Medical assessments. ECG. Cardio strain inducers.

And our insipid little candidate for tech school? "Rags". The girl's turning into a little sewer mouth!

"FUCKING BITCH" she wails to the nurse.

Cue the loyal protective mom,

"Oh no, not my daughter! She doesn't talk like that!"

Grunt.

Hold head in hands.

Cry, shake bob.

(Note to Ellen: Honey, it's getting old.)

A real life point of note.

Now, in my humble opinion, one of the movies weaker moments is when we go from the image below, a sweet yet plucky pre teen (who sounds a tad stupid)

who has taken up the somewhat socially isolating habit of calling nurses sluts and spitting inappropriately, to, well, you take a look below.

Ouch.

Oh, where to start.

Besides the concerning issues present in a lack of self care skills, someone does not look like a happy camper here. "Rags", it seems, is becoming an appropriate nickname after all. Looking a little exhausted, the poor dear.

Oh but not for long! Rags is FULL of surprises!

WHEE!

Make way for the backwards stair springing devil spider. A Satan Slinky!

Keep the sugar cookies away from Regan!

Though seriously, I digress. In today's soundbite, quick fix world of energy containment, and the concerning lack of essential parental engagement, nationally as well as globally, this demonstration of energetic "acting out' would be quit inappropriately labeled ADHD, and it would be so heavily tranquilized up, down, sideways and back, all it would need to be entertained would be the banjo from Deliverance.

Weighing the odds in this specific case, one would think that move would ultimately prove beneficial to our little spark plug, but no! Here is the point at which we really go off the fucking rails.

I will frame it as a cautionary tale.

One where plates fly!

Glasses crash!

Dressers catapult!

And of course, like all pre teen, hyper sexualized, social malcontents often do, Regan's head spins around 360 degrees on it's axis! And with a heavily cocknyed accent, the charming contortionist asks her grunting, head holding, red bob shaking mother, "do you know what she did, your cunting daughter".

Although I'm sorry Regan, but I must take issue with tense here. Because the salient point is not "what she did", it's "what she's about to do".

REALITY INTERJECTION:  Here is an example of REAL FORESHADOWING: At this point, please make yourself aware with what the child is grasping in her right hand.

I KNEW I put that crucifix somewhere! And put it somewhere she does! Evidently to prove her "love" of the Lord, Regan proceeds to masturbate furiously with said crucifix, snarling to no one in particular to "let Jesus fuck me".

Jesus, as usual, has nothing to say.

Then, as if to underscore the ever widening dysfunctional gulf between mother and daughter, our dear Rags decides the moment needs a close up. What does our plucky heroine have in mind? Shoving her mothers head into her bloody crotch, screaming in guttural tones, "LICK ME, LICK ME!"

Chris is devastated. She is unable to grunt, hold her face or shake her bob. So instead she just wipes away her daughters genital blood from her face.

Please, read that last sentence again!

OKAY THEN!

I think a fair assumption would be that at this juncture, Chris is seeing the futility with a strictly somatic approach.

ENOUGH ALREADY!  CALL THE FUCKING PRIEST.

Who, when met with this special welcome, really should have turned on his little Catholic heals and ran for the hills

Part II is soon to come.

This is a tough discussion, and it's one I have spent much time considering how best to present. Not only because of the bleak future that those with HIV in Africa face, but because, no matter how socially aware, and no matter how well versed one is in the theory of HIV in Africa, it is virtually impossible to get your head around it if you haven't seen it first hand.

Please realize I say that from experience. Therefore to start, I'm going to try a more detached, numbers and figures first and foremost approach.  As even with that, the reality and it's inevitable trajectory are hard to escape.

Sure, we can simplify the numbers into abstract models; and we can show them in relation to one another; we can chart them, graph them, subdivide them into smaller more tangible numbers. However, we have to accept at the end that we are not capable of grasping the scale in which people of Africa are suffering and dying due to HIV/AIDS.

What diagrams and advanced demographics outlined on nice power pioint templates also fail to do, is to connect statistics with the real people they are meant to represent. When looking at a chart, it is easy to forget that each number represents a real life, with real family members and friends. A death is not a single unit, but an end of a painful progression of sickness that leaves behind widows, orphans, and demoralized communities.

The statistics that I will present here, including HIV prevalence, cause of death, and HIV/AIDS models, may be verified through the UNAIDS public website and the World Health Organization's public online library. Information on drug prices is partly drawn from a report by Doctors without Borders, as well as from my own experience (limited as it is) in primary health care in both Sudan and Somalia, as well as my conversations with those who specialize in the medical management of HIV in Africa.

Framing the context

When discussing HIV in Africa we need to keep in mind the differences from our western experience. Chief among those is the actual virus. In north America HIV is predominately experienced as HIV - 1 sub tropic. In Africa, it is HIV - 2. Important, in that both strains have remained almost exclusively consistent to each continent since the epidemic began. And while most of the treatment options are similar, there are two key differences.

HIV 1 sub tropic (North American HIV) is considered highly virulent (how strong the virus is, thus how difficult to manage it is), but with a low (as compared to other viruses) infection potential. To use gay male statistics, one's chance of becoming positive by unprotected receptive anal sex with an infected person is between one in fifty to one in two hundred episodes.

HIV 2 (AFRICAN HIV) has a low virulence (a much weaker virus, thus easier to clinically manage), but a much higher infection potential. Risk of becoming positive is estimated to be between one in five encounters for the activity described above.

Here's the catch. The "easy to treat" part only applies if we are actually treating the disease. Which in Africa, we are currently not in most cases.

So ask yourself, does it make sense that HIV positive individuals in North America who are infected with a much more complicated, virulent and hard to manage disease, and who are currently being treated with triple combination therapy, have a significantly greater chance for survival than do those in sub Saharan Africa? Where the disease, if treated, is much easier to manage, much easier to survive, but of course, much easier to catch.

Some numbers may make things a bit clearer.

All numbers are current to the end of 2005, the most recent date for hard, empirical data.

Individuals currently living with HIV

• world wide: 40.3 million
• sub Saharan Africa: 25.8 million
• North America: 1.3 million

New HIV infections per year

• world wide: 4.9 million
• sub Saharan Africa: 3.2 million
• North America: 43, 000

Deaths due to HIV / AIDS per year

• world wide: 3.1 million
• sub Saharan Africa: 2.4 million
• North America: 18, 000

Another way of looking at what those stats point out, is that, very clearly, we have slashed the death rate in the westernized world to an incredibly efficient degree, when contrasted with the rate before the advent of triple combination therapy.

Conversely, in Africa, where the disease is significantly less virulent, but significantly more infectious, (remember easier to get but easier to treat) we have not even made a dent in the death rate. If anything, it is increasing. The main reasons for this:

1. a lack of access to medications that treat local health concerns (malaria, amebic disentry) that if occur concurrently with HIV, will prove fatal very quickly.
2. A lack of access to standard triple combination therapy for HIV.

Another way of seeing what those numbers really mean when translated out:

In 2005, 2.3 million people died of HIV in sub Saharan Africa.

That's one person to die of HIV every 13.1 seconds.

Which works out to 23 people who die of HIV every 5 minutes. Moving into the hour range, that's 274 people who die of HIV every hour.

The days total? 6575 people die of HIV in Africa, every single day.

That's 2.3 million people a year who die of a completely preventable disease that currently is viewed as having a favorable treatment potential.

Here's the part that is really hard to stomach.

The staggering cost of those life saving medications? In 1997, $12, 546. per person, per year. Pricey, weren't they?

I use the past tense intentionally, because due to some very successful global HIV activism, the price is now at $400.00 per person, per year to treat and clinically manage a disease that has a statistically favourable outcome if treated early.

In a nutshell?

If the existing power structures in the western world gave a damn about this disease, we could stop it cold in it's tracks. Without so much as a dent in the global economy. $400.00 a year to save a life. But I suppose we have other, more pressing concerns.

Tell that to the 6575 individuals who will be dead by days end. To the 2.3 million who will die by next New Years Eve.

Please take some time to think about the information that I have included here. Think about what it means and what it suggests in a broader context, both the obvious and the underlying inferences present when the leaders of the westernized world smile and nod their heads in empathetic gesture, but really only pay lip service and offer token support to a continent that is rapidly becoming extinct.

More to come.

Exhausted, but energized.

Found what I was looking for?

Don't know about that, but I know I feel better than when I left.

Plan on sleeping for a good three days.

Then, lots to tell.

Peace.

Of course I need to add my creative expression to the online discussion. 

I'll take horror films for six hundred Alex.

Though all kidding aside, one of the less than thrilling realities of doing a stint in a foreign and politically volitive part of the world, is your complete vulnerability to the external realities that make up your comfort in that thing called a "safety awareness".

For the third day in a row, that has been the problem. As for myself and the other seven North Americans I am sharing a hotel wing with, we've been told it's inadvisable to venture to the rural clinics when the terrorist opposition is threatening your team with "decapitation". My guess is testing that little theory out would be self destructive in some seriously life hindering ways, so I am content to hang at the hotel. 

What to do, you ask? Considering the seriously creepy and pervy owner of the hotel, the one with the eye that crosses when he gets horny or flustered (it's hilarious), has a B grade horror film fascination / fetish, well, you become an aficionado in the art of slutty, cheesy, B grade horror films. As you truly have watched every fucking horror film that has ever been made.

Every

Last

One

Of Them!

But first, some horror movie trivia. What recent and suffiently twisted little horror fest is the following image taken from?

First person to get it right wins one night, all expenses paid, with green face above. I'll even toss in the pea soup for free.

No? Fine, be picky!

So without further hesitation, I offer you my ever growing (for the past three days that is) list of:

How to not only live, but dramatically survive, the seriously never ending B grade horror hell narrative. (Listen closely now).

1. When it seems that you've killed the monster, it will be of great benefit to you that you actually check to see if it's dead.
2. Twice.
3. If you find that your house is built upon or near a cemetery, was once a church used for black masses, had previous inhabitants who went mad or committed suicide or died in some horrible fashion or who performed necrophilia or satanic practices, move the fuck away immediately.
4. Do not search the basement, especially when the power has just gone out.
5. If your children speak to you in Latin or any other language which they do not know, or if they speak using a voice other than their own, shoot them at once. It will save you a lot of grief in the long run. 
6. This one has always wound me up. When you have the benefit of numbers, never pair off or go off alone
7. As a general rule, don't solve puzzles that open portals to Hell.
8. If you're searching for something which caused a noise and find out that it's just the cat, leave the room immediately if you value your life. Because guess what, it wasn't the fucking cat!
9. If you're running from the monster, expect to trip or f all down at least twice, more if you are female. Also note that, although you are running and the monster is merely shambling along, it's still moving fast enough to catch up with you.
10. If your companions suddenly begin to exhibit uncharacteristic behavior such as hissing, fascination for blood, glowing eyes, increasing hairiness, and so on, um, get away from them as fast as possible.
11. Stay away from the following geographical locations:  Amityville, Elm Street, Transylvania,  the Bermuda Triangle, or any small town in Maine .
12. Beware of strangers bearing tools such as chain saws, staple guns, hedge trimmers, electric carving knives, combines, lawnmowers, butane torches, soldering irons, band saws, weed-whackers or any device made from deceased companions.
13. Don't make fun of or play with dead things.
14. If you find a town which looks deserted, it's probably for a reason. Take the hint and stay away.
15. If you walk into the local abandoned-looking church to seek help or shelter, and you notice that the crucifix is mounted upside down, hey Skippy, get the fuck out!
16. When you happen to be one of the fortunate ones and actually make it through the film alive, never, NEVER sign on to do a sequel. If you do, expect to depart this world in the first five minutes.
17. If you realize that the people in your town/county are having their minds taken over by some strange force, alien or otherwise: DO NOT call the police as they are a) either already taken over themselves and will turn you in or b) will not believe you and laugh at you. Either way, you must handle the problem yourself.
18. If a small band of children appear to be smarter then the adults that are around them, be cautious. If they stay together in a small, secretive group, and display nothing but hostility towards their elders, authority, and the church, leave town at once. If you wish to stay, be as kind to the children as possible, but expect to die anyways because you are inferior to them.
19. When one of your spaceship's crew finds a hideous parasite attached to his body, don't let him back on the ship. The guy's dogmeat anyway.
20. When a hideous alien menace is hunting you never wander off alone to hunt for the ship's cat.
21. If someone who seems important tells you to do or NOT do something (like DON'T fall asleep, DON'T leave me, DON'T look for the homicidal-chainsaw-wielding- psychopath by yourself) by all means, listen to them, unless doing so would break another of the guidelines.
22. If you are wounded by flesh-eating zombies, aboandon all hope, because sooner or later, no matter how many anti-biotics you take, yer gonna become one of 'em. 
23. You'd think this one goes without saying. Don't open the closed door, especially if you hear scratching, heavy breathing, or any other strange noises from the other side.
24. If you're a male, get out of there as fast as possible! The only one who ever survives is a female.
25. While in a horror film, never bathe, especially when in the house alone.
26. If you are a female, never show your breasts, slutty women are expendable. 
27. Never camp or build homes on Indian burial grounds.

In regards to how I occupy my my not at all prevalent off hours, sleeping has proven useless, so reading ranks in at a close second. Still too early in my time here to actually enjoy a nights sleep, I am catching up on some book reading of some authors I have been anxious to indulge.

Three of the books I have recently finished are three I give the highest recommendations to. If it's a book you are looking to throw yourself into, you can't do much better than one of these.

Enjoy....

The Collected Storied Of Amy Hempel is made up of four slim volumes: "Reasons to Live," published in 1985; "At the Gates of the Animal Kingdom," 1990; "Tumble Home," 1997; and "The Dog of the Marriage," 2005. More than 20 years to accumulate just over 400 pages, her prose is more than worth waiting for.

A highly skilled first person narrator, Hempel's central characters are smart, damaged loners whose lives have a sense of being salvaged from a wreck. The humor is mordant, rather than what is too commonly called redemptive. Often with a bold, intentional assurance, this author crafts situations that often see no hope of redemption anywhere. In a strangely ironic way, that is in itself often refreshing.

Living to Tell The Tale  Gabriel García Márquez's first of a planned three part memoir follows the author through to his mid twenties. Written at 76, Márquez has the comforting confidence of a man unafraid to chronicle all that has been his life in his native Colombia. Particularly engaging is the historical timeline that forms much of the text, and underscores the authors passion for human rights and justice; a freedom and privilege often denied him in his early years.

The Year Of Magical Thinking Long a Joan Didion fan, I had read this when first published in 2005, however my circumstance of late has seen me anxious to give a second, more considered pursuit to this harrowing, though ultimately exhilarating memoir of one amazingly cruel year that began with the sudden death of Didion's long time husband, and concluded with the demise of her only adult child. For those who have faced the sudden, tragic loss of someone close, you will appreciate her refreshingly on point accounts of the almost 3D like hell storm involved in simply staying grounded.

At the risk of sounding a tad too earnest, an idea occurred to me. This year, would be the year to chronicle. The idea of witness, of seeing, where I can, things that for whatever reason I have not seen before. Because let's face it, as offensive as it sounds, a white, urban, upper middle class male with a steady income and a level of ciltural sophistication, has more than one blind spot in regard to others experience. There are things I don't see, quite simply because I don't have to. The problems are "over there", not part of "my" backyard, or are so far out of our own realm of experience that relating becomes a challenge.

My ever increasing feeling on that little piece of the pie narrative? While that response is a natural one, as well as based in part on biological survival dictums, it is also not in any way a solution to the issues we as a global society face. It is very likely that in the near future, a practical application of exclusion based on "someone else's issues" will be near impossible. Simply, as a society, a culture, a country and a planet, we need to become a little more inclusive than ex.

The bottom line, as sentimentally cheesy as it may sound, we need to start seeing ourselves in each other, and making moves and actions around that new awareness. Because two things we know for sure. One is that our world is not getting bigger, it is in fact getting smaller and more lacking in resources than ever before. We are also reaching a population crisis when one compares available resources to demonstrated need. Consider the long term trajectory of those two facts.

So what better topic to underscore our worlds need for collaborative, multifaceted and creative responses to issues of concern, than the topic of HIV / AIDS in Africa. However, because the issue is one that, on first glance, is completely overwhelming, when discussing it here I will focus on one specific topic at a time, as often when things get lumped into a global discussion on "HIV in Africa", we never move beyond an introduction, as by that point, everyone is completely burnt out and hopeless.

So before I start down that road, I have an idea I want to toss around. It's getting back to the overall theme here, and that is the idea of inclusion vs exclusion, and the re engagement of human empathy on a wide scale.

Having said that, I will put my money where my mouth is and I make you a challenge. What will you do this year that will make a positive difference to the collective. To you, me and the rest of us. In a world with lines drawn all over it, where and for what do you stand? Realize the effort does not need to be large or all encompassing. It simply needs to be a commitment to something we can positively effect for another. In other words, a change for the better. Be it someone's attitude, circumstance, opinion, options, or overall quality of life.

I know when I originally thought of this for myself, it came down to two things. One, is of course what I am doing here, in Somalia. But what I am really looking forward to is after getting back to Toronto I will be teaching a once a week journaling workshop to teems and young adults who experience barriers to traditional education and learning. Be it a learning disability, behavioral concerns, a negative and academically hindering home life, these are the kids that fall through the cracks. What I really love about the program is it takes the skill of communication, something that by mandate these kids have had serious issues with, and then provides an opportunity to engage it in their personal and "real lives". Taking a problem and providing opportunities to not only succeed, but to excel.

So who's up for it? Think of a way you can include others, change a perspective, foster transformation, in general, simply do something intentional with a goal of making something better for another, based on something you know or do well, are heavily involved in or just have a huge passion for. If it sounds too boy scout for you, consider what it might look like if each of us made that commitment to extend ourselves in some way.  If we all were to do that, even just once, can you imagine what that would look like. Wow.

So everybody, what is it you have to offer?

Need some inspiration? Check out Change Me, a website that offend the challenge back in 2004.

When you have decided, please leave your ideas in the comments below.

Made it here in (I think) one piece.  What originally began as simply a very lengthy flight delay taking off from Heathrow, was, unfortunately, just the begining of the fun.

Next up was an extremely turbulent nightime sky, making the flight on the "every seat taken", Daallo Airlines old L-1011 a less than relaxing little jaunt. The boiled chicken and rice combo was as chewy as bad, over cooked calamari. Though not to be outdone, we were then treated to a thrilling six hour technical stop in Sudan, where we spent the entire time sitting on the plane, on the tarmac, in the sun, with not a hint of an air conditioning, as they were "working on an engine".

Finally, after what seemed like half the trip, we made it into Mogadishu. First impression? Don't laugh, as my impression is neither witty nor original. What was that great insight I pontificated forth upon placing foot to soil in the middle of Africa?

IT'S FUCKING HOT!

And as I have been reminded, no matter when you come, summer or winter, fall or spring, you can be assured that it will always be hot as f&%(ing hell!

We have the first zone above, the desert. The one below, the jungle / tropical rain forest deal.

And you then have the zone I am growing intimately familiar with, the high density, smelly, dirty, overcrowded, often dangerous, inner city. The one and only, Mogadishu. But that is not a fair description. Equal parts mysterious, sexy, and just very alive, it is teeming with an energy and vibe that I have yet to place.

From the air, it is deceptively similar to a resort.

On the ground, a different story

With this image one can see the dangerous trajectory present when filth and intense heat combine with a hungry population, many immersed in a vicious poverty cycle. 

Often described as one of the most lawless and dangerous cities on Earth, it is a city not even close to being safe for tourism or travel. As the official capital of Somalia, Mogadishu is now controlled by the internationally-recognized Somali government.

A brief history that echos the regions instability, in early 2006, an Islamic council took control of the capital from the clans and tried to install a radical Islamic state similar to the Taliban in Afghanistan. On December 28, 2006, however, the Islamic regime fled the city to the south as Ethiopian-backed government troops re-took the capital without firing a shot in an unexpected escalation of events.

I will offer a more substantive update soon.