semantic spaces

I sometimes think that I need to find a new place, somewhere I can weep and scream and fuck and bleed.

Not a real place, but a place like this — close enough to ‘real life’ to mean something, and distant enough from it to still allow for some level of honesty.

Because I don’t do those things here, anymore, and it’s starting to feel as though I never did.

Things I need more of, in no particular order. (first in a series)

– science-fiction
– coffee
– Super Paper Mario
– Eric B & Rakim
– weird sex
– sun
– N2O
– time
– Amsterdam
– robots
– teeth
– teeth made from robots with smaller teeth inside them so that they chew my food for me when my mouth is closed
– lucid dreaming
– Strongbow
– the responsible abuse of pleasure

Maybe I just need to get really high, fuck and play Tetris Attack until dawn.

I haven’t been writing much lately, life has been too chaotic. Home is crazy, work is crazy, all is crazy. Crazy and frustrating. Not all frustrating, but frustrating enough. My computer isn’t working right, I’m not done moving yet, I owe more money today than I ever have, I’m not doing the things I enjoy nearly as much as I want or need to be, blah blah blah.

(Also, there’s cat hair everywhere, and it’s making me lose my fucking mind.)

I’m waiting on tour news from Cyanotic, looks like I might be joining them for November thing supporting one of the coldwave greats. With that said, I’ve planned on at least three tours this year that didn’t happen, so I’m not holding my breath. I was hoping there would be some European dates that would let me work around Maschinenfest, but all the overseas dates seem to be exceptionally flakey.

I’m finishing up the Ad·ver·sary album now, so we’ll see what happens after I send it off to Stefan. If he still wants to publish it on Ant-Zen, that would be fantastic. Otherwise, I’ll send it off to Ad Noiseam (even though I doubt they’d be interested) and Hands, and/or just publish it myself. I should also start calling in the remixes promised to me relatively soon.

There’s so much tension under my skin, and I don’t know where it’s from, or where to channel it.

I’ve been realizing this week just how much I miss being involved in the front lines of computer security, in the way only a disaffected teenager with no social life can be. I’m still involved in security, but I’m not discovering exploits, I’m not participating in anything global, or working with anything dangerous. I’m not doing anything that hasn’t been done and documented a thousand times before by a thousand other people.

What I miss, I think, is being involved in something that matters.

Housewarming soon.


Oh, Japan. (…and “Oh, Japan – The Book“)

Stewardess Fantasy Sex Club, AirTouch, Osaka

America has its run-of-the-mill massage parlors and topless bars, but only in Tokyo can you find entire clubs populated by faux nurses, teachers, stewardesses, and secretaries—not to mention naked karaoke, mirrored floors, life-size latex dolls, and bathtubs filled with green gel and faux-mermaids. And, as Tokyo police crack down on a wave of subway gropings, the Kabukicho district offers not one but three clubs equipped with immaculately reconstructed train cars filled with short-skirted schoolgirls who won’t press charges.


I am surrounded by about five to seven thousand dollars worth of water-damaged vinyl.

This, of course, is a pretty conservative estimate, seeing as there’s no real way to place a dollar value on some items, as they’re too rare to have a common market value.

(Edit: I updated the price estimate, as I realized I had failed to convert from USD to CDN.)


name: Jairus W.K.R.P?
do you like it? How could you not like being Jairus W.K.R.P?
nicknames: Jai, Fucko, Bitch.
screen names: Twiin, Jyro
age: 23
birthday: May 22, 1979
sign: Twiin
location: Ottawa
school: No.
natural hair color: Black
current hair color: Blue
eye color: Green and Amber
height: 5’8
weight: 120
birthplace: Ottawa
shoe size: 9

[ family ]
parents: Jacqueline the Biker and Flint the Turkish Mafia Don (you think I’m joking, don’t you?)
siblings: Oliver in BC, Silk (AKA Eternia the Rap star) in Toronto, Jessica in Toronto, Joshua in Toronto, Joshua mk2 in Ottawa, Charlie in Ottawa.
live with: Leslie, Suzanne.

[ this or that ]
me/you: them
coke/pepsi: Coke!
day/night: Dusk
aol/aim: AIM
cd/cassette: cd
dvd/vhs: dvd
jeans/khakis: Cotton! It works!
car/truck: Motorcycle
tall/short: Short
nsync/bsb: Milli Vanilli
britney/christina: Samantha Fox
gap/old navy: Randy River
lipstick/lipgloss: Lipstick
silver/gold: titanium
alcohol/weed: ew
crunchy/smooth: smoooooth

[ love and relationships ]
do you have a bf/gf?: Only one of them.
do you have a crush?: See above
why do you like this person?: Soft… Pretty… Smell good… oh BIG BRAIN TOO BRAINS ARE GOOD LOVE YOU LESLIE
if you’re single, why are you single?: I’m single?
how long was your longest relationship?: 2 1/2 years.

[ the past ]
what is the one thing you would change about your past?: I would airdrop bags of money into yesterday.
what is the biggest mistake you’ve made in your life?: The Punk House.
last thing you said: Sitar Player!
who is the last person you saw?: Jewbear
who is the last person you kissed?: LESLIEBEAR
who is the last person you hugged?: LESLIEBEAR
who is the last person you fought with?: Some fuckhead on XVI
who is the last person you were on the phone with?: Gowan
what is the last song you heard? Something by Forma Tadre

[ the present ]
what are you wearing?: Black socks, black pants, black shirt, black shoes, black hoodie.
what are you doing?: Working. No, really. :)
who are you talking to?: Violetnun!
what song are you listening to?: The sound of a thousand monkeys on a thousand keyboards.
where are you?: Work!
who are you with?: Workers!
are you online?: Am I posting this?
how are you feeling?: I’d rather be fishing.
are you in a chatroom?: I work in a chatroom.
do you smell good?: Do Turks smell good?
is smell important to you?: Only when I notice it.

[ favourites ]
incense: Nag Champa.
wine: Inskillin Ice.
cheese: 12-year-old cheddar. Or Black Diamond processed slices.
coffee: Jamaican High Mountain, from the Baronhall Estate.
season: Summer.
vegetable: AIEEE
fruit: EEEEE
meat: All of it.
bread: Anything white. Yo.
drink: Jolt.

[ future ]
what day is it tomorrow?: Two days after yesterday
what are you going to do after this?: Glare at the LAN Manager
who are you going to talk to?: Whoever talks to me first
where are you going to go?: Continue ‘working’
how old will you be when you graduate?: Graduate from what, exactly?
what is one of your dreams?: Nightclub, Cafe, leet design job…
where will you be in 25 years? Bald

[ have you ever ]
drank?: Is this for real?
smoked?: Only 15 times a day.
stolen?: These questions suck. How about these ones instead: ran from cops while stealing? done obscure drugs with only consonants and numbers for a name? caused over ten thousand dollars in property damage? in one night?
done anything illegal?: assaulted an officer of the law? arson? conspiracy? treason?
wanted to die?: Why am I answering this again?
hit someone?: sigh

[ other ]
do you write in cursive or print?: Print
are you a lefty or a righty?: Depends what you mean, I suppose.
what is your sexual preference?: People, mostly.

[ physical appearance ]
what do you most like about your body?: I have all the bits that I’m supposed to.
and least?: They all look kinda funny.
do you think you’re good looking?: For a Turk.
do other people often tell you that you’re good-looking?: One person does, bless her feminist heart.

[ fashion ]
do you wear a watch?: No. Adam broke mine, and I’ve been too shattered to replace it.
how many coats and jackets do you own?: Three or four trenchcoats, maybe one that isn’t?
favorite pants/skirt color?: #000000
most expensive item of clothing?: 200$ boots.
most treasured?: Leather trenchcoat #1.
what kind of shoes do you wear?: Combat boots, most of the time.

[ politics ]
do you believe in the death penalty?: BOO
right/left: Left
do you believe in a woman’s right to choose?: Yes. I also believe in a man’s right to choose.
do you believe in the sanctity of conception?: In that chemical-reaction kind of way, yep.
do you believe in penal justice?: Punishment =/= Justice.
do you think you know what it means to be a feminist?: Nope.
do you believe in corporal punishment?: I believe in a good beating.

[ stuff ]
someone you’d like to get back in touch with from your past: David Lea.
old product from your youth you wish they’d bring back: Gatorgum!
old product from your youth you hope never comes back: Vegetables.
most important thing you want changed by this time next year: A credit card would be nice…
do you plan on living in your city for the rest of your life?: Nope.
if no, then where to next?: Netherlands/Belgium/Shinjuku/Toronto
if yes, the main reason why you stay?: I know when cabbies are trying to rip me off.
are you happy?: Quite.
if not, the top 3 reasons why you’re not: where did my pants go?


Sometimes I really, truly, almost give up on this rock.

It’s not the girl suing because she was given detention, or the ‘scandal’ that The Washington Times’ Sayed Anwar of Bethlehem is really Paul Martin of London, or the FDA’s decision to allow food makers to list ‘health claims’ on packaging before they’ve proven.

It’s not the fact that a new appointee to the US Women’s Health policy panel recommends “specific Scripture readings and prayers for such ailments as headaches and premenstrual syndrome”, or that a new appointee to the US Advisory Committee for Reproductive Health Drugs condones only the rhythm method because “medicine is permeated with attitudes toward sexuality and fertility that are incompatible with Christian values”.

It’s none of these things. It’s the fact that none of these things are shocking, or will be challenged with any success, because this is just one day’s worth of depressing news. Every day, I could make a post like this, and have just as many (if not more) fucked-up America stories.

With a tide like that, what the fuck is the point, right?

Living in Canada, things are much better here, but it has come to the point where I question how much longer I can ethically spend twenty to fourty thousand dollars a year in a country that is America’s largest trading partner. Some of my money makes it there out of every dollar I spent, and it is not an insignificant sum.

I fully support Canada’s movement towards drug decriminalization (and heroin safehouses), I support healthcare, our tight-as-a-nun’s-ass food and drug standards, and what looks to be an national desire to distance ourselves from the USA… With that said, we’re going to have a new Prime Minister soon, and most of the candidates with any chance of winning have been very pro-american, and it wouldn’t surprise me to see a Clinton-to-Bush style reversal of policy and procedure.

I love my country, and I will continue to work towards its betterment, but I’m thinking it might be time to plan, seriously plan for the future, and decide if a North American climate is where I want to spend the next 23 years.

I don’t think that it is.

E. xtremely B. anal M. uttering

From an interview with Stromkern:

“I take our music very seriously, I take music in general seriously, maybe too seriously. But that doesn’t mean I can’t poke fun at it when I’m off-camera, so to speak. Maybe we’d be more successful if I’d have some über-spooky website and updated a LiveJournal every day about how I was about to go sacrifice a goat before engaging in a wild sex orgy, but I can’t be bothered, really.”


I try and take the feelings away by absorbing myself in the mundane: cooking, cleaning, going for a walk, having a cigarette; but this only leaves me feeling hollow.

I fear to indulge myself in this, I fear to try and find any richness or beauty in it, where I would’ve abandoned myself when I was younger and wiser. Perhaps it is that I fear not living up to my own standards, or that I don’t think I can reach the stars anymore. I don’t think I can do what I need to, what is both necessary and appropriate.

I think it provokes something close to ‘rage’ in me, however little I understand of that feeling. I have to stop myself, and try and deal with the world for just a second just another second until it stops and calms and stops and stops and just fucking shuts up and

Then I am myself again.

There is a poem by Dennis Lee called Deeper. A quote would not be inappropriate:

Often at night, sometimes
out in the snow or going into the music, the hunch says,
I don’t know what it means.
Just, “Push it. Go further. Go deeper.”

I thought that this poem represented what I’ve been feeling, and although the poem still speaks to me in some ways, it isn’t what I thought it was. This is not a hunch I feel I should follow; it is a drive, something as primal as sex and somehow more complex, more jaded.

I could exhaust all the words I have ever known trying to capture its essence, to trap it in metaphor. The notion itself is so inadequate as to be laughable.

But still, I find myself typing.

I wonder if those around me have the patience or capacity to tolerate me, if I withdraw and soul search. If I settle into meditation, speaking only koans, or begin to act with excess, would they understand? Would they think that this was a choice I had; to feel, to think, to be forced to act on this?

Perhaps they would assume that I am choosing to exercise what I consider to be ‘freedoms’, when in fact I am finding myself with none. When I find myself forced into a path of action, without recourse.

Perhaps a worse fate would be to find myself in the thick of melodramatic prose.

Still, I am urged deeper, against all logic or emotion.

Beyond choice, desire, or rationale, it is my fear that if I do not go, I will lose myself in the effort of keeping my head above the water, and that would be the greater loss.

It is simply a question of whether I choose to prepare for it, and take a breath before diving, or find water tearing the air from my lungs.