Archive for May, 2007

Why Should I Believe You?

Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007

You say these things with such certain earnesty. You make your case by citing others cases. You honestly believe what you are saying and can’t accept I do not. You plead your case with no room for doubt. Your position is enforced primarily through the continuous recounting of the same damned reports that are repeated with ever increasing frequency. Every event can be and is shifted to fit with your ridged expectations. It would seem that your mind is made up.

I try to dispute you mostly to draw out the details of your conclusion. I argue with you to feed my arguments. I’ve given up any attempt to persuade you even if I give that appearance I am still trying. I enjoy your argument even if I’ll never believe it. Its what keeps us human.

They bury us daily with stories of that fit their conclusions. They increase the importance daily. They ratchet up the dire consequences, continuously ensuring the next story is more dramatic than the last. They hold our interest as long as they can to keep us coming; they makes us feel the need to stay on top of this. They have painted themselves into a corner.

Why should I believe you when the only conclusive evidence you have is that which they have fed you? Why should I believe you when all I hear is them in your voice? My sources all have ulterior motives while yours are claimed pristine. I am deluded while you have been educated.

I believe you when you tell me this could all be so much better; I refuse to believe its at all as bad as you have come to believe.

I’d Forgotten Just How Damned Pretty We All Were… Once

Tuesday, May 1st, 2007

I’ve often wondered what had happened to the Toronto Rave scene. I left it some ten years back for a number of reasons; firstly, watching people trying to dance on kitomene became kind of sad… secondly, the influx of drum-circle hippies was even sadder…

From a post on BlogTO this morning:

…lately he seems stuck on this “Grunk” idea, combining grime and crunk, and crunk.

What the?… Wasn’t “crunk” that 2 inch layer of ooey gooey goodness that collected underfoot on the dance floor?