Ryan's Random Rant Rationalizing Returning Roam to Rim-diana*.

'Home' is a strange concept to me as there are several corresponding area codes (317, 902, 312, 416, 514...) that have had my heart at many points in my life. As I plot a return to one of these, sometimes less-than illustrious, spots (low-cals on the lesser end), I often find different things beckoning me back to the specific place in mind.

Lately, as I begin preparing a to take a trip to one of my heart's abodes I see local alcohols, and/or traditions pretty much everywhere I go. Whether it is 'Eh.' Kieth's on sale before I stumble home to Prince Edward Island, or a sick jungle session before I kick-step into Toronto, there have been certain omens lulling me into the warmth of a forgotten home.

I am finding this to be particularly true as I gear up for my next, and particularly momentous, jaunt 'home' for my pseudo-brother's wedding. An event which was recently foreboded by a weekend filled with Kentucky bourbon, keg-beer, all-night drugged out parties with sketch-bag characters on speed, fireworks, and random shit being set ablaze (...ahh... just like childhood.) Naturally this means I am heading to my birthplace, Indianapolis, which is unfortunately and irrefutably my first home.

Whether this be to my character's tarnish or merit, I have to love my hometown with a large part of my being, as I am forever an Indiana boy stuck in those Indiana nights.

For those who are not familiar with Indy (aka Naptown, aka Indy-a-no-place) I will give you some rough context so that you may fully grasp the conflicted nature of the relationship I have with my most original of stomping grounds...

Naptown, is the United States 14th largest city. It has a metropolitan population a little over 1.7 million, which is constantly expanding, and largely corporate. The city is famous for its car racing, football, basketball, corn, amber waves of grain, poor education rankings, teenage pregnancies, and its dominant meth-addiction. The racial demographics are about three quarters white, one quarter black, with a seemingly inestimable hispanic population, and any even less 'censually' represented asian population. Indianapolis's crime rates fluctuate greatly depending on reporting, but the city's annual murder total is usually around the same as the whole of Canada's total; and the city has 1.48 times the U.S. national violent crime average.

Indy is located in the middle of the Midwestern region of the continental US; three and half hours SSE of Chicago, and about five hours SW of Detroit as the ford drives. As such, Indianapolis is the intersection of 4 major interstates, as well as other highways, founding the state the motto: “Crossroads of America,” which was, until recently, displayed proudly on the Indiana State license plate.

Unfortunately, the State-tag now reads “In God We Trust,” to blatantly support, and reflect, the overwhelming Hoosier majority's backward red-state ideologies. The deity ass-kissing money-shibboleth is hardly more true, yet somehow it is a more honest approach than the faux-utopic** 'crossroads' scheme that I grew-up with. However, it still remains far too indicative of the zealously self-righteous piety of the flim-flammed 'Merican majority that this slogan purposefully represents. This empowered group(s) has single-handedly allowed middle 'Merica to rot away hatefully stagnate in a cesspool of lacking-education for the last century... Pardon me, I get carried away ranting about 'Meri-cunts....

So anyways....

The surrounding Indianapolis area, sticking true to it's roots as the breeding ground for the 2nd rise of the Ku Klux Klan in the early part of the 20th century, remains mostly divided by race on a large scale. While this problem mostly persists outside of Indianapolis, Naptown has remained immersed in the middle of a hotbed for ignorant fundamentalism and right-wing fanaticism that has been disguised with friendly Midwestern smiles. However, it is in the core of Indianapolis where these divisions falter and the 'cross-roads' can seem almost real to those willing to look, especially when the KKK and Black Panthers are divided by barricades.

In the urban environment of Indianapolis there exists the only obstruction for the white anglo-saxon protestant majority's bulk ignorance; prevalent throughout the rest of the state, and much of 'Merica. This obstacle, whitey's kryptonite: is the established black; rapidly growing Latino; as well as affluent, but small, asian (no pun intended, laugh if you want) communities within the confines of a metropolitan area surrounded by oppressors. These groups have somehow rallied against 'the man' to make Indianapolis a tolerable place to come from. YAY!

(Honorable mentions: the gays, the jews, and the catholics that are equally hated by the reds.)

It is in the analogous polarities between the metro-communities that I find my feelings most easily expressed for the city as a whole. Most notably the extremes illuminated in comparisons such as that of Hamilton County (northern suburbia) being rated the number one place to raise a family by Forbes magazine in 2008, which is starkly contrasted by the quality of life experienced in inner-city neighborhoods. 'Hoods such as that of central district's Haughville, where there are active federal programs targeting the gang and drug-related crimes that can lead to over 400 acts of violence per year in just the small neighborhood area. Such experiences could hardly differ more while being so close in location, representative of the dissenting feelings for Indianapolis my heart knows to well.

All that being vented, Indianapolis is an amazing place to come from if you are someone with half-a-head on your shoulders; also providing you manage to avoid the trends of becoming addicted to crystal meth, and/or a parent before graduating junior high. Which, thankfully applies to most of my friends: as they have managed to have retain such desirable attributes; not fall to such woeful mistakes; and on-the-whole manage to be less-than the Indiana status-quo in every such way. Friends like these are amazing on all fronts, and you would seriously struggle to find better people anywhere else in the world. It, may be, in part accredited to the conflicting experiences similar to some urban Hoosiers living in direct contradiction to the mainstream of their society...

...Rant Rant Rant...

I wish I could take these amazing-few from the lacking-many in which they live and have them accompany me everywhere. They can out-drink, out-party, out-laugh, out-shit-disturb, and out-chill you (and your grandma's bootlegging buddy) on any given day of the week. They then could come home with me for a respectable family dinner with out any sleep (or at least they could before they had kids and got married over these last few years.) It is because of this, that every time I go back I feel the need to make it a rescue mission. As such I attempt to grab any strays, tie them up with sweet promises of poutine and prettier people, all in a hopes to bring them back with me safely to the land of freedom from 'conservative' oppression, Quebec.

The greatest thing about my experiences with Indianapolis, always involve leaving it.

WANTED:

(For Immediate Expatriation from Indiana)

* Credit to Yourie Hollier for the term Rim-diana.

** utopic- Adj - Similar to or aspiring to be ideally perfect.

200k new people per day...

BBC: Horizon always has the propensity to disturb, and/or terrify me. But, there is one episode in particular that I have watched repeatedly in complete awe, not to mention rantingly recommended --"How Many People Can Live On Planet Earth."

Overpopulation is surely going to be all of our doom without drastic changes in our ways of life.

http://www.ninjavideo.net/video/51508

If you are ready to have a child, than good for you. I purposefully say 'A' child, as in one, because we need to collectively simmer our breeding tendencies way-the-fuck-down. One child to eventually replace its two adult parents is good math for a descent solution; with two kids at least you are not pushing us anymore into the red; but three or more and you are a selfish cocksucker.

But, the best solution is to use, have easily accessible, and be well educated about mother-fucking-birth control. Because, banging is way more fun without any fuck-trophies as left over evidence. Don't get me wrong, condoms suck. I do not expect monogamous couples, or irresponsible jerks, to wrap up. But I do expect girls to take some sort of birth control, and dudes to pull out and hose those broads down just to be sure of non-conception (or "make them eat the babies.") This particularly applies to those who are a bit on the bad-decision making/slow side of the populous.

Thats my public service message for the day. Be sure to watch the doc, but not right before bed.

PS. David Attenborough is the man.

You, Me, and It

The meaning and history of 'Fuck, Love, And Hate'...

FLH goes back about three years, to when a group of enthusiastic twenty-something yout's decided they were going to title their friendship. I contributed my knuckle tattoo idea as a title and it was quickly accepted.

I still love these tattoos, but sometimes there is sadness, almost a lamentation, about the old-times now associated with the words on the inside of my fingers. I figure this is mostly because I stand alone, and unsupported, in this 'crew'; a feeling I hope this rant, and my increased personal pressure, will surely undo. This emotional response is due to the fact that these are some of my closest, yet most seriously slacking, friends. They were supposed to get similar tattoos and rep the 'crew' almost 2 years ago now, but apparently they have yet to find time, the balls, or the few hundred dollars required in order to ensure that I am not a one man gang... sadface.

Fucking, Loving, Hating; a natural progression, and something all my friends seemingly become familiar with in their love lives at one point or another.

Fuck both Love, and Hate; because rarely anything good ever comes from either.

Some time you have to just Say Fuck Love and go out there and Hate. One of those self-serving, ethically challenged moments in life that you make decisions with no regard for the other people you may be effecting negatively.

FLH

(If you end up reading this you probably are friendly enough to join our little tattoo crew, but seriously ask first, as you may find all your lovely fingers hatefully fucking broken.)