The Virgin Prince's War Journal

The grim and gritty side of things. If everyone had a soundtrack to their lives, mine would be the best.

Friday, February 27, 2004

Thoughts From The North

Loyal subjects,

Why is it I'm having difficulty writing today? Be it brain-leeches from the planet Saturn? Is it that any sort of natural writing ability I may have once had has now faded away, returned to the void from whence it came? Has my muse abandoned me? I have had no shortage of fascinating experiences in the past few days, the past four days have been nothing short of action-packed, the kind of stuff which Jack Kirby could sink his teeth into and put by ink to page, perhaps adding a few circles, triangles, and lines along the way. Were I Hunter S. Thompson, the glorious cocktail of recreational and educational drugs I'd have put in my system would have guaranteed me endless streams of eloquent prose, humorous anecdotes, and strange scribblings from a Lovecraftian place of horrors and fish-people. I suppose I'll simply sit here and stroke my gills until I get that grand bit of inspiration that Dagon chooses to bestow upon me.

Vancouver, Canada. It's so strange here. Entirely similar and yet entirely different, it's the strange little subtleties that seem to drive one mad. My eyes grow bloodshot and my pupils dilate at the sight of a tiny maple leaf firmly planted in the center of the golden arches, sitting as comfortably as the half-conscious face of a young idealist lain upon the center of his love's bosoms. I see that same maple leaf popping up everywhere, sometimes in stranger places, and it makes me realize that there's no shortage of patriotism here, for here, the maple leaf is every bit as common as Old Glory back home, but there's not the strange level of eerieness here that there is there, for here it doesn't seem to be the sign of a totalitarian government creeping itself in to every corner of your mind and asserting itself, prompting one to just give in blindly to notions of war and extreme governmental power. Here, people just like their country. People are, for the most part, proud to be Canadian and happy to show their love for their country. It is with such love in mind that I find it puzzling that my Canadian ally might be so very shocked, and perhaps offended, for my own love of my country, my home.

No, it's not perfect. America, in the grand scheme of things, is a big juicy apple, but it's an apple that's been dropped a few times and has it's share of bruises. Perfect, no, but it's still enough to tempt many out of this northern Eden in which I currently rest my bones. There's no doubt, when it comes to selling something to your modern slack-jawed rube, as far as closing the deal goes, America has the best serpents that modern decay has to offer. But it's not hopeless, this I believe. Allowing me to switch mythologies, my country was built on the dreams of many an Icarus, the faith and ambition of Perseuses and Jasons and Argonauts of the world. That hope is still alive. Those who feel filled with the spirit of the American Dream are still out there, wide-eyed, filled with ambition, still driven forward by the strength of their belief in something better. We've been smacked around a bit, abused, nearly crushed by the machinations of corporations and those malicious beings of power belonging to the far right. Having our right to a free election taken away from us was by far, very crushing to the spirit of every good American that had their eyes open and aware to the implications of such an act.

I myself prayed to the old gods that night, the night of the election result confusion. I suppose overall, the old forgotten gods have power so limited by the loss of mass-belief, the general decay in stature brought on by their gradual fade into obscurity that they may soon never have their names ever uttered again by human tongues, that it should come as no surprise that they were powerless to stop the forces of human evil, driven by the sheer strength of the ambition of man. Still, there were those few days where there was a clear struggle. Clearly, the armies on both sides were moving back and forth, and it seemed, that just maybe the good guys might win. They didn't, but for those few days, for that brief period where the bad guys weren't simply just handed the reigns of power, I thank the old gods. I still, to this day, give a thankful nod to the moon every time I step outside at night to puff on a Pall Mall, Camel, or Lucky Strike.

I can't help but think myself, how much those who'd call themselves "Conservatives" love to point out that communism lies on the left side of the spectrum, just a bit past Green Party and who knows what else. It seems like every time we, as a people, try to make some progress, something that isn't just pushed forward by the greed of man, something like healthcare for all, for example, all the grumpy Republicans get together and complain about how much like communism that is, and how following such a noble pursuit would no doubt place us in jeopardy of turning into a communist nation ourselves. No one ever seems to mention how the Nazi Party is just to the right of the extreme conservatives. The signs are all there. This foundation of hatred and prejudice, Bush going out of his way to pass legislation to make sure that certain rights are restricted from gays, the years-long Republican hatred of foreigners directed mainly at Mexicans. Hitler hated gays and foreigners too, all the way to the concentration camps. Let us not forget, it was the Germans' fear of communism that lead to the power behind the Nazi Party and the act that granted Hitler such total authority in the first place. Let's not forget the loss of rights that followed. And what have we back home? The Patriot Act.

Here I am, Vancouver, Canada, with the girl I love, and I really, really don't want to leave. I'd like to stay here and begin our life together, to forget all past worries and concerns and just start over, concentrating on her, she being my main concern and by far, the most important thing I've ever found in my life. But I can't stay. I have to go, and there's a ton of reasons why. For one, there's loose ends to be tied up at home. There's friends to see again, family to see again. There's my bosses and coworkers waiting for me to return to my job. Not that I really care that much about my job, but my moral code doesn't allow for me to just flake out on people, and I certainly couldn't just leave a job where I've done well for myself, and my boss has been good to me, without at least giving proper notice first. But all this is minor. I could really get past all these things easily for the love of my woman. The truth is this: there's an election coming up. My country needs me. Knowing there's a monster at the helm, I can't just abandon the ship. I have to do my part to kill the beast first.

And that's why I'm coming back

Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince
The Virgin Prince, 2:08 PM | link |