stray 23March04 - Part four of four.

We pledge resistance to the flag.

This is not America.



Vancouver. All right. This is where I am now and it’s a strange strange

place. But then I say that about everywhere.



What does it mean if the whole world is strange? I tried to sign up to

a

web account with the login stranger_in_a_strange_land but it, and every

possible variation on it were already taken. Guess I’m not alone in

feeling like this.



I had been warned about the deries, (derelict, i.e. homeless, beggars,

whatever your phrase may be) that they were everywhere and mad and

aggressive and maybe even a little violent. I don’t think they are,

other

than the everywhere bit. They’re definitely everywhere. Man they are

_Everywhere_ its unbelievable. I’ve been to some poor places before but

nothing _Nothing_ like this.

Apparently it’s a combination of this being about the only place in

Canada

where you won’t freeze to death sleeping outside and being on the major

arterial drug route no pun intended.

They’re not so bad though. Deries are usually ok in a dejected

shuffling

sort of way. Except in Ireland where they growl and stab. I have some

sort

of niggling concern about giving people money, I think I’ll just take

to

carrying some bananas around with me for anyone who wants a handout.

The government here has been shutting down a lot of what support there

was

and apparently over the last five years the number and aggressiveness

of

homeless has been rising steadily.



Six friends of my flat were walking home from a concert last week when

they were confronted by police officers. When one of the girls, a well

known activist and community worker for the poor, asked to see their

badge

numbers the six of them, mostly women, were beaten so badly that four

ended up in hospital with serious head injuries. The police (about five

squad cars had turned up by this point to join in) then charged them

with

resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. Some of them may go to

prison.

This happens here.

I was at a punk gig slash gallery opening (?) a few nights ago and

turned

round to find two cops suddenly standing in front of me. I was like

AAH!!…

I mean… hAA!lo. They smiled at that. They were there to check for

under-

agers. We saw one on the street as we were leaving; he was talking to a

deri. As we passed he said to us You see that? That’s the lowest of the

low. You don’t get any lower than that.

That’s what it’s like.



It’s no Edinburgh, that’s for sure. But then, what is? Not much, maybe

not

anywhere. Vancouver is only a hundred and fifty years old, the downtown

is

only about thirty. It’s too new for my tastes (I’ve been so spoiled of

late) but its ok and the area around it is pretty damn amazing. From

the

little I’ve seen.

Day three caught up with me good mate Sophie, a kiwi/brit I know from

Edinburgh, here studying sculpture. But most of you know Sophie. Her

art

school has notice boards up and I looked through them for flats (must

start saying shared house or whatever they call them here because when

I

say flat, as in flat car or flat cat, people get very addled) and

immediately noticed that nine out of ten of them were too expensive and

just horrible sounding. But number ten was advertising communal food,

arty

stuff and a pet bunny so I gave them a ring.

Went, chatted, got the flat. First and only one I looked at. Dude I

live

with had to camp out in his car for a month before he found a place.

I’m

lucky.



Oh such a wonderful flat. Five others; Jordan, Jonathan and Colleen

study

at the same art school as Sophie, Sarah’s a carer (for the disabled)

and 

Mara’s a masseuse which is perfect since my back’s been a little gammy

from sleeping in a too soft bed in Oz and went out on me completely on

jumping out of a tree in Christchurch.

Both Jordan and Jonathan are American, and a little worried about this

draft thing, both have said they’d go to prison as conscientious

objectors. Maybe that’s what’ll happen to them.

Two cats and a rabbit running around which gives it all a pleasantly

surreal farmyard quality. One cat chases the bunny (Matisse). Matisse

chases Jonathan and the other cat. He also likes to chew on power

cables

so we’re always half expecting a muffled pop like the sound of

absentminded innocence being suddenly replaced by a somewhat startled

vacuum, and then to be picking French impressionist out of the

furniture

for weeks. I’ve been reading too much Terry Pratchett.

Broadband wireless Internet. Sweet.



I just got back from a demonstration marking a year since the

occupation

of Iraq. Started with a five hundred or thereabouts strong march

through

downtown to the water. A handful of small and very very loud girls were

trying to keep us chanting, but it didn’t work too well.

It was pretty lame, quite frankly. Marches don’t really get interesting

until they are a) at least five thousand people, or b) we have to start

running for some reason. Edinburgh was good because the Scottish have a

long proud history of rowdy civil disobedience, Spain was good because

although they’re more relaxed they are the loudest people on earth.

We ended up at an actually quite impressively large crowd gathered to

hear

some speakers, one of whom was Noam Chomsky. He’s a good speaker, his

writing makes me want to kill myself.

So he talked and we listened and clapped at all the right times and

then

he finished and everyone went home.

I couldn’t believe it. I literally could not believe that with a crowd

that must’ve been almost twenty thousand people, everyone just quietly

shambled off, being careful to stay on the footpaths and obey all cross

signals.

It was just so… Canadian.

I want to be in a huge planned demonstration that goes horribly wrong.

I

know its counterproductive and more than a little self destructive, but

I

just want to see what its like. I’m writing a movie around it, and the

way

things are going especially in this part of the world it may just be

unavoidable anyway.



Bit the financial bullet and joined in on a day trip down to the

Whistler

ski field. Thing must be six times the size of any field in New

Zealand,

apparently the snow was a little sticky and the best runs were closed

but

I’m not exactly spoiled and ran myself into the ground boarding my

little

ass off. It hurt. It’s been a long time, five summers in a row.

Getting sick is an inherent part of arriving somewhere new, but it

never

fails to piss me off. I’ve been sick for about two weeks now, in fact

all

of Vancouver seems to have been under something greebly since I got

here.

It’s not much more than a technicality now, the last few symptoms with

their fingernails still dug in me that will soon be gone.

Work has yet to materialize but I’ve dropped off ten cds to various

production houses around the city and am hoping something will come of

it

before my rent is due again, yesterday.

I’ve been here a month and have a flat, fire spinning and parties, so

what

if the only thing lacking is main reason I came to this continent in

the

first place?

I need to talk to someone about this film thing. I don’t know how films

get made. I don’t know what directors do. I don’t know how to write for

film or sell it once written. Can I stipulate that part of accepting

the

script is getting me as an assistant director, and what is it they do?

I am telling stories and I love that. They are stories that want to be

told visually, so I will make films of them. This much I know and will

do.

The how is tricky.

I don’t know where I am going but I know how to put one foot in front

of

the other and that’s usually enough.



Plans to drop down into America during the year. We’re right on the

border

here. See you all at Burning Man. Plans to go up north. Mara’s father

has

a sailing boat so there are plans to go sailing up the coast and maybe

kayaking on a lake somewhere. Rock climbing, there’s some good

bouldering

around here in the summer. Plans for a vege garden and we may be moving

the house a little closer to town in May. Not the house itself, of

course,

just everything in it. Duh. Plans for more lounging and by the sounds

of

it a lot more parties.





Aroha nui



Daniel Pagan Connell.