As I was walking from my work at a Toronto club to my car, I passed these two ladies who I presume were waiting for a cab at University and Queen.
Though the pic I’ve included isn’t of them, it’s a close enough approximation. One of them (the cleavagey one) was holding a long box with a pink ribbon under her arm.
I stopped. “Someone gave you a bouquet?” (at this point my brain alerted me to the fact that I was inexplicably entering pick-up mode)
She shook her head and smiled. “It’s a body.”
“A corpse.” Her friend grinned.
I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. “A baby you mean?”
I’ve been working as a security guard and bouncer at various sites for a few years now, and I’ve noticed that at most places there’s at least one of my peers who has a hook-up for things like flashlights and knives.
Guards go gaga for accessories.
Especially for knives. I haven’t thought I really needed a knife since I was ten, and while I find myself in way more potentially dangerous situations these days, when I think about whether I want a knife the first use that comes to mind is declaring “That’s not a knife: this is a knife.”
I was just thinking about reform as it applies to politics and democracy. I’ll point out now that I’m not sure how this thought applies to early modern democracies (i.e. Republics where voting was granted to only those with a certain level of wealth, meaning that suffrage wasn’t universal: it was granted with property ownership). I make the distinction because I’m not familiar with reform movements prior to universal suffrage.
I suspect that the idea I am about to express may be something unique to the masses having the vote, but this may not be the case and I may just believe that because I perceive the general public as more susceptible to these movements; whether my assumption is correct or not is not really related to my main point, but if one is inclined to, they should go research that notion.
I’m fascinated by words, maybe beyond fascinated: I like how they look on a ‘page’ and how they form a coherent picture when they combine. But, more to the point, I love how they take shape in my mind and how they feel, coming out of my mouth (this may have contributed to my need to share my words with everyone).
I guess you could say that is why I write.
Even more than this basic emotional response, I am also driven by a rational deconsruction of the words that I present and those that are presented to me. Mostly, I favour the efficiency of words, meaning that my preference is to use the smallest most common word that represents the concept I am thinking of. This began when I turned against the idea that a larger vocabulary suggests more knowledge: to be more precise it was in opposition to those who think that big words and/or words that went unused by the ‘commoners’ show that the person knows what they’re talking about.
While I was researching secret societies for Fey Tales, I came across a story so awesome that only the old adage “You couldn’t write this shit” describes it. There I was, reading a Wikipedia article for the Priory of Sion: this group probably sounds familiar to most people as it influences the basis for the plot of the Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown and also seems to be where Holy Blood, Holy Grail authors Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh and Henry Lincoln got the bulk of their source material (which Brown later borrowed from).
Here’s where the awesomeness comes in:
To many people the above books strike them as a contrived history that doesn’t ring true and to others, they sound like a conspiracist’s wet dream.