As they always say: a picture is worth a thousand words. But this word has become so powerful that no one picture can overcome the myriad pictures it can unleash in your mind; even in the most pious of minds!

You are sitting on the bar slowly sipping on your double-olive martini shaken by the loud music and stirred by what your eyes can see. The combination of absolutely delicious vodka, billowing cigarette smoke, ravaging harsh music, and the all but innocuous flickering darkness keying notes of a mating call on the receptors of your primitive brain. All of your senses are disinhibited and anything at that very moment makes sense. The sight of a tall and slender beauty staring at you in the near distance consumes every second of your thoughts.

You rise slowly from your chair holding the bar not to tip over it. You walk tipsy toward your target balanced with a martini glass in one hand and the anticipation of your partner-to-be in the other.

You greet the lady with a casual hi and complement her beauty telling her that you have never seen such a pretty face. She looks you in the eye and sarcastically but arrogantly asks the question: how can you see my beauty in this dark environment? You tell her it’s because you glow in the dark. She laughs and at the very end of her inviting giggle you kiss her glowing lips.

You dance for a while and offer her a drink. You order a large glass of martini with two olives and share the drink and divide the olives.

She reaches for your hand wanting to leave this place. You disembark on a journey to one of the most romantic of journeys: a walk in the alleys of Venice. You spend the night working every sinful pleasurable side of your senses till you are drunk with love.

This picture will remain etched in your mind as the single most potent picture the word on your mind can paint. It is not the act itself but the moment of perfection; the moment of mutual yet perfect perception.


Never been high off of anything but life
Living in the clouds leaves my soul so ripe
It’s difficult for me to see
a challenge for me to breathe deeply
I’ve never been this high…

Staring at inferiority 
They’ve always been beneath me 
They’re small minds can reach me 
There’s no need for repeats 
I love being this high… 

From the sun 
Only four rocks away 
I come down to earth 
I cannot stay 
I’m so used to hovering high… 

So to my people 
only have one thing to say 
Hear my words 
take them to the grave with you 
How about we all get this high…


Bug is a surprisingly fantastic thriller that left me guessing the truth until the end and is one of the scariest movies I have ever seen. When a lonely bartender meets a war veteran, their lives intertwine and create a terrifying gradation.

(This movie is extremely hard to describe without giving away the ending, so I suggest watching a trailer after reading my meager attempts at a plot explanation. The visuals in this movie are just as important as the plot points.) Slightly self destructive and lonely Agnes (Ashley Judd) is a bartender at a local lesbian bar. She lives in a tiny room in a rundown motel. One night her friend R.C., (Lynn Collins) brings by Peter (Michael Shannon) for an evening of partying. Agnes allows Peter to spend the night and their relationship blossoms. Agnes and Peter start finding bugs all over their room and eventually begin to put the pieces together of where the bugs came from. The audience and the characters spend the majority of the movie questioning their own sanity.

Director William Friedkin and writer Tracy Letts do a great job of making the characters’ ambiguous emotional status as mesmerizing as a ten car pileup. You can’t believe what you are seeing, you know you should look away and yet you can’t. In every scene, the characters’ motivations are clear and yet, the audience has a difficult time understanding the characters completely. Much of the drama of the movie is wondering if what Agnes and Peter are experiencing is real. All of the characters have two personality traits that are not only diametrically opposed but mutually exclusive. It makes these simple people complex and is really freakin’ scary.

The cast is limited, with only five characters. Each of the performances is more disturbing and mesmerizing than the next. William Friedkin should be commended for not only finding such a great cast, but a cast who has such great chemistry together.

Agnes is a complicated character with emotional depth and rich development. Ashley Judd does a remarkable job of making Agnes pitiful and strong; sane and insane. Agnes easily, under a lesser actress, could have become a wayward bunglement of emotions. Judd makes her a perfect mess. Near the end of the movie I wanted to hug her to comfort her and slap the sense back into here.

Michael Shannon can best be described as innocent and creepy as Peter. During the entire length of the movie you can tell he isn’t a bad man, but you wonder if he is badly designed. He is so scary without being malicious that the two sides of your brain have a hard time rectifying the dichotomy; in a good way.

The other three cast members are perfect seasoning for the incredibly delicious dish Judd and Shannon created. R.C. (Lynn Collins) is softness, wildness and sanity. Collins’ short performance is incredibly controlled. Jerry Goss (Harry Connick Jr.) is crazy, abusive and loving, in a demented way. Connick’s performance is frightening because he only almost loses control. Dr. Sweet (Brian F. O’Byrne) lends credence to either of the theories of the characters and highlights the mental misfiring of the characters. O’Byrne made a chill run up my spine because he never, ever, gets rattled.

My hat goes off to the writer and the director for understanding the speech patterns of people in Oklahoma. Usually when a movie takes place in a region outside of California the screen writers don’t bother to make the dialogue regionally appropriate. Letts and Friedkin do not overlook this important detail.

The end of the movie has visually distinctive scenes that create deeply haunting moods. The use of light is the most unique and imaginative I have seen in years. The lighting alone is enough to tell us we should be in a state of paralyzing dismay. Not only does it lend exactly the emotion necessary for the scene, it doubles the effectiveness whenever another character enters the room.

This movie snuck up, lulled me into a false security, kept moving so I never got my footing and then broadsided me with a Mac truck. I was astonished, bewildered and the more I think about the movie, the more I love it. Don’t miss this movie if you love to be scared.


Be yourself in every way

So the friends you have can truly see

The most inward part of thee

For friendship is built upon truth like a rock

Not sand which in the life’s own tides washed away by the sea

Blue Dress

Once upon a time
I found an old blue dress
And put it on, thinking
That I was a rich woman.
Mother wouldn’t let me
Wear it to the table,
But I kept it.

I put it on every weekend
And wished to be beautiful.
One day, I realized
That I always had been,
And I put it away.


Sometimes, I falter so much;
that I wonder if I am even human….

and it doesn’t please me that;
I think sometimes,
that I can hear the universe laughing.



People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Sounds pretty impressive until you realize that these people, basically, want to rid the world of human beings and turn it over to the animals. 
The name Chris Garnett probably doesn’t mean anything to you. This is the fool who changed his name to to support the group’s anti-KFC campaign. He is 19 years old and obviously still has a lot of growing up to do 

North Americans eat a lot of chicken. According to one source, 6 billion of them a year. Yes, that’s billion with a ‘B’. PETA has launched a campaign against KFC, saying they use cruel and unusual methods to kill some of their chickens. KFC, according to another source, uses 736 million chickens per year. This begs the question, where are these massive chicken farms run by KFC? Look closely and you won’t find any. KFC is in the restaurant business, not the chicken ranching business. They buy the goods from their suppliers. Why doesn’t PETA go to the source for its protest?

To process this amount of chicken, it would be nigh impossible to give every chicken a last meal along with last rites before it is eviscerated and cut up. Let’s face it, chickens aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed and they don’t really know that the sole reason for their existence is to die in order to feed us. If they did, don’t you think some of them would have gotten together to stage a revolution? Something along the lines of the civil rights marches of the ’60’s, perhaps?

PETA proposes setting up billboards in Kenora, Ont. to try to get anglers to lay down their rods and reels. I have seen some of these billboards down here, where I suspect they had little to no influence. It shows a dog with a fish hook through its lips and asks, “If you wouldn’t hook a dog in the mouth, then why would you do it to a fish?” Kenora outdoor advertising agencies wisely turned PETA down, knowing full well that fishing plays a major role in the local economy. Besides the whole thing is silly to begin with. For every study that PETA claims shows that fish can feel pain in their lips, you can find one refuting that fact. And even if they can feel the pain, I don’t know of any fishermen who catch more than their limit and leave the excess carcasses on the shore to rot. Anglers catch enough to feed the family and come back later to get some more. That’s part of the joy of fishing. You have to do it over and over again if you want to eat. Some anglers practise catch and release and again, I have never seen a fish returned to the water any the worse for the wear.

If PETA is so concerned about animal rights, why don’t they go after saving some of the less cute ones? The harp seal hunt is always one of their favourites, but when did they ever speak up for the warthog? Or the centipede? The black widow spider or the aardvark? 
There are plenty of animal rights groups that do a world of good. PETA is not one of them. They are the sort of organization that frees farm raised minks, only to have them slaughtered in the wild because the minks don’t know how to cope.

We can do a lot better without the likes of Chris Garnett and his ilk.


We shouldn’t speak so oftly.

My conversation lapses; breaks

And each time you pick up the pieces,

Sarcasm and hints of sexuality

Weakening me in octaves

Speak to me again, and forever, and again,

Deliver me into this sensuality.

Your jests, stroke my confidence

Are you nervous?

Are you anxious?

Your smile is infectious.

I have a thought to share

But it’s gone quickly from my tongue

Leaving merely the lustful taste

Of an introspective moment.

And there are too many like this…

Too bold or sinful to share.

Ah… the games we seek to play.

The difficult dares and rules we’ve vowed

and broken.

But find me again, and soon, and again

Recklessly I await, inspired for more

Shh… now,

We shouldn’t speak so oftly.

(I’ve never wanted someone so badly as you.)

The Dress


I kept my closet locked for months, because I couldn’t take the sight of that dress. It hung there taunting me. I ran my fingers over then silk ribbon that laced up the sides. It was as cold as my heart felt, because that night was gone, never to return.

A tear fell from my eye and splashed onto to blue rose that was pinned around the hanger. That was forever marked by the silence of everything it used to mean. I cried for the loss of the joy I had once found in that dress, and the blue rose that matched his eyes.

I remember a time when I looked into those eyes, and all I could see was love. Like a baby blue jay chirping after a summer shower, they lifted me gently to the other side of the rainbow where unicorns run free, and I flew on the wings of a golden eagle into the sunshine.

Now all I have is a picture, and those eyes have become so cruel, like a ghost of the past. They crush me with the force of a thousand waves in a stormy sea. I would give anything to see that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow again.


and if, in this world…

Your LOVE did not exist.

I would continuously cry tears of sadness;

Because I would know that the sweet kiss of life would be lost to me forever