Fuck. My friend just went missing in edmonton today. If you follow me and are in or connected to the area please keep an eye and prayer out for Lou. The high level bridge detail is terrifying me but I’m trying to keep ok. I’m out of town right now which super sucks. There is a search through the river valley tonight…. Use all of your magick powers friends, all of it!
Please keep your eyes open, Edmonton.
If anyone can help with searching please contact me.
Please keep looking
Photoset with 11 notes
My sister’s cat died a few days ago. It was a sudden, and very sad death, and it has been tough trying to get things back on track.
I have never been so sad losing an animal before. It kind of threw me through a loop, really. I am really going to miss Squish, and I do already. The worst part though, is knowing just how much her absence is hurting my sister. They were such good friends, such a good team. More than most people and their companions, Stacy and Squish deserved each other. She waited for years to find the right cat, and it was Squish. They only had a year together, but it was such a good year. I can’t stop thinking about my sister’s pain right now.
Losing Squish affected a lot of people, she was an important cat. In my back yard, we spent 2 days burning charcoal on the ground, and digging up the dirt that thawed. On the second night we wrapped her up in her towels, pet her for the last time, and sealed her up in her coffin. We buried her at around 10PM with some friends and some fire.
I never really imagined having a funeral for a cat, and that wasn’t what we intended, really. But we organically got together, and ended up spending two days digging, burning, eating, drinking, crying, and saying goodbye. For her it just happened.
Today I saw a picture of Squish, and instead of getting sad, I felt happy for a second. I just hope that can happen for my sister soon.
Rest in power, Squishy.
When [an abusive man] tells me that he became abusive because he lost control of himself, I ask him why he didn’t do something even worse. For example, I might say, “You called her a fucking whore, you grabbed the phone out of her hand and whipped it across the room, and then you gave her a shove and she fell down. There she was at your feet where it would have been easy to kick her in the head. Now, you have just finished telling me that you were ‘totally out of control’ at that time, but you didn’t kick her. What stopped you?” And the client can always give me a reason. Here are some common explanations:
"I wouldn’t want to cause her a serious injury."
“I realized one of the children was watching.”
“I was afraid someone would call the police.”
“I could kill her if I did that.”
“The fight was getting loud, and I was afraid the neighbors would hear.”
And the most frequent response of all:
"Jesus, I wouldn’t do that. I would never do something like that to her.”
The response that I almost never heard — I remember hearing it twice in the fifteen years — was: “I don’t know.”
These ready answers strip the cover off of my clients’ loss of control excuse. While a man is on an abusive rampage, verbally or physically, his mind maintains awareness of a number of questions: “Am I doing something that other people could find out about, so it could make me look bad? Am I doing anything that could get me in legal trouble? Could I get hurt myself? Am I doing anything that I myself consider too cruel, gross, or violent?”
A critical insight seeped into me from working with my first few dozen clients: An abuser almost never does anything that he himself considers morally unacceptable. He may hide what he does because he thinks other people would disagree with it, but he feels justified inside. I can’t remember a client ever having said to me: “There’s no way I can defend what I did. It was just totally wrong.” He invariably has a reason that he considers good enough. In short, an abuser’s core problem is that he has a distorted sense of right and wrong.
I sometimes ask my clients the following question: “How many of you have ever felt angry enough at youer mother to get the urge to call her a bitch?” Typically half or more of the group members raise their hands. Then I ask, “How many of you have ever acted on that urge?” All the hands fly down, and the men cast appalled gazes on me, as if I had just asked whether they sell drugs outside elementary schools. So then I ask, “Well, why haven’t you?” The same answer shoots out from the men each time I do this exercise: “But you can’t treat your mother like that, no matter how angry you are! You just don’t do that!”
The unspoken remainder of this statement, which we can fill in for my clients, is: “But you can treat your wife or girlfriend like that, as long as you have a good enough reason. That’s different.” In other words, the abuser’s problem lies above all in his belief that controlling or abusing his female partner is justifiable….
"Natives Rule The World" in red paint on a statue commemorating the fur trader.
This is could be the best graffiti we ever get to share with you.
Do not read fur trade or even first contact, this is a statue commemorating JUST the fur trader. Likely the most exploitative and destructive ‘profession’ in Canadian history, all while depicting a nameless First Nations person.
"This sculpture commemorating the fur trade is one of the most visible representations of a First Nations person downtown. The artist "just created the Indian," says Lewis Cardinal, rather than honouring an aboriginal leader"
Edmonton is on stolen land and this statue commemorates that history in the heart of downtown, right by city hall.
Note: We did our best to try and concisely summarize our interpretation of the politics and context around this graffiti along with some links. If you have a correction, more information or an insight into this graffiti please share it in the notes.
Don’t fucking kid yourself.
By Spencer Evans.
Post with 3 notes
Trigger warning: sexual assault, abuse, family violence
Jesus Christ, the decision not to talk to my brother is reaffirmed every time his presence re-surfaces on the Internet. I guess he is calling himself, [offensive name deleted so my blog is less google-able] now, so that is a thing, Jesus.
Regardless of this (and, pardon me while some bitterness comes up), I am still the bad guy in this situation. Forever. And, “But he is family” and, “He just bullied you, that is what siblings do. It wasn’t that bad” and, “It would be a lot easier if we could all do Christmas together next year”.
I just have to remember [offensive rape joke name]the next time the family starts to wear me down, and my resolve to stand up for myself will be as strong as ever. Because, really? Really. “He has changed this time”? “Going to prison was the kick he needed to turn his life around”? That’s strange, because I thought that his attitude and actions towards other people were what caused him to go to prison. The name he just chose for himself is a shitty rape joke that he wears with pride, because it’s funny to him.
Other people, their feelings, their safety, their lives, have always been funny to him. Pain has always been a joke. I am not kidding myself for one second by thinking that he wouldn’t treat me the same way that he treats his partners, the same way that gets him sent to prison, the same way he treated his 16 year old girlfriend who pressed charges, the same way he treated her friend who warned her about him who also pressed charges, if I ever gave him a chance again. Been there, done that. But when the truth about it finally came out, “it was just bullying”.
Aaaaand I totally get it. I get why it bums my parents out that I can’t deal with him and his abuse anymore. But it’s not my problem (…right?), I’m not a punching bag (I don’t think…).
…Right? Or maybe this is just another brief moment of fire, I get those. But how is it OK that the people closest to us get to treat us like this?And that finally saying, “NO” causes so much stress, and heartache. How is it that I am over-reacting? If he were anyone else my family would be begging me to never speak to him again, to change my phone number, to be careful, to look out, to watch out for myself.
Just remind me of this if I ever say that I am going to cave, be in the same room as him, accept him. Remind me of this next Christmas, OK?
I didn’t even know if I should put a trigger warning, this garbage is just something I deal with every day. It never feels like something that happened, it is just something that is. It never ends.
Edit: Re-reading this post, I should clarify: My brother did not go to prison for sexual assault, nor has he sexually assaulted anyone that I know of. His name is the sexual assault that I put the trigger warning up for, and his attitude towards people, especially women. He is extremely physically abusive however, is very violent, and dangerous. That is the abuse I am talking about.
Today I have had to say goodbye to somebody who was both a mentor and an inspiration to me in every aspect of my life. I feel completely dumbfounded, and I hope its not glib of me to say a few words about somebody who was one of the best friends I’ve ever known without ever really knowing him at all. This is somebody who has without a doubt left and indelible mark on my life and there are so many things I wish I could have said and done. I have never lost anybody close to me ever before so just please excuse this but this was a man who was in his prime and that I loved so fucking deeply as a human being and an artist and he is dead now and I just don’t know how to make sense of anything now.
Dave, you always stood as shining example of somebody unafraid to really be a human being and do the things that make you feel good and to give everything you you could in your endeavors, to share your thoughts and skills with those around you, whether as an artist or just as fucking good friend. There are so many things left I feel are left unsaid and it really eats me up inside that the closeness we found when I was much younger (going on ten years) was never regained in these last few years. Since reading Hesse’s Demian I often think back to those people in my life who bore the Mark of Cain and who I was lucky to cross paths with in ways that were meaningful and enriching, fleeting though they sometimes are. I suppose some things just get left too long to come to fruition. I always dreamed of being in my ‘dream band’ with you. I will never forget you. I love you David Finkelman, and I will see you on the astral planes. To all of my friends, I offer my deep condolences and assure you I am suffering this loss there along side you.
Dave, you put this song on a mixtape for me six years ago and it changed alot of things for me. And above all I always felt it possessed a great deal of tragedy, as much of New Order’s early material, no doubt the sound of a group of young people losing a great mind of their generation far too early.
Dave was a great human and a seriously real person. It’s been over 4 years since I last saw him (in Edmonton when he walked into the room at CJSR during my visit to the Bringin’ It Down show), and about 2 years since I’ve even been in touch with him, but I’ve always respected him and the impacts he had on me during my (our) formative years were always for the better. Our most recent exchanges were just buying records off of each other a couple times, but hosting his band twice, some great internet shenanigans, and listening to his show on CJSR from time to time are memories I’ll always be fond of.
My heart goes out to everyone in Edmonton and beyond left hurting today. I really did not know Dave well at all, but it has always been clear that he had a huge impact on a lot of people. So many people in my thoughts right now.
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