The City

In the next few months, you will hear about Winnipeg 2087, my novella I'm doing for my Independent Professional Project.  Right now, I'm keeping the project mostly a secret, but I will tell you that it deals with one pressing theme: urban sprawl.

Winnipeg's downtown core is certainly at a crossroads.  Every urban planner is literally betting cards on what could bring it back to life.  They guessed Portage Place would do it back in 1987, and they got it wrong.  When Portage Place failed, they placed their bets on the MTS Centre, and sure enough, they were wrong on that count as well. 

In a way, the city used to be a large village.  Almost everything was interconnected.  Then came the superhighway concept, and out sprang the suburbs in the 1950s.  Many of the cities we speak of today are not really cities in the literal sense.  They are more like a series of communities connected by major uplinks. 

Well-known chains are the diving markers of every city's community -- you'll never find two Wal-Mart stores close to each other.  But it would be foolhardy to suggest that chains contribute to urban sprawl.  Technology is a major factor as well.  If you purchase online, bank online, and order Chinese online, you'll wonder what's the point of going to an urban core to do it all.

The irony is that consumer convenience has somewhat led to frayed nerves.  The bigger the suburbs, the larger the traffic mess gets, and it gets hellish for pedestrians.  If there are no linking pathways or walking lanes, pedestrians have to cross the thickest of highways to get to their destinations as the motors idle on and on.

If your house is the community, your exterior environment is your weakness.  The further you push your caravan into cyberspace, the more foreign the world around you becomes.

See STIR at the Magazine Trade Fair

The Magazine Trade Fair takes place in The Roblin Centre at 160 Princess Street this Thursday.  Throughout the afternoon, visitors can check out the work of Creative Communications students.  In groups of four or five, CreComm students wrote articles, took photos, and created designs for full-colour, professionally printed magazines.  Visitors should expect to see some lively booths, great prizes, and some fantastic food.

My group's magazine is called STIR.  STIR is a weekend morning magazine.  We cater to that niche crowd that prefers morning life to evening life on weekends.  We'll be serving up some coffee and fresh-baked banana bread at our booth.  We'll also provide details about our Breakfast Photo Contest, which ends on April 4.  Winners can get a $50.00 gift certificate to Hermanos Restaurant & Wine Bar (one of our sponsors) and another $50.00 gift certificate to Carnaval Brazilian BBQ.

The Trade Fair runs from 12:00 to 4:00 p.m.  'Like' us on Facebook at this link, and Follow us on Twitter at this one.  

A Crazy Movie Consumer

Robert De Niro as Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver.

(source: oddfilms.com)

John Hinckley Jr. in police custody a few months after he attempted to assassinate then U.S. President Ronald Reagan.  Hinckley watched Taxi Driver repeatedly.  His motive to shoot Reagan was to impress actress Jodie Foster, who appeared in the film as Iris, a teenage prostitute.

(source: lubbockcentennial.com)

We infatuate with movies because the characters can be believable.  We can relate to their thoughts, feelings, and emotions.  This blog post will be rather confessional because of the point I am trying to raise: that movies are the armchair therapists who sometimes give us the wrong advice.

Of all the movie characters out there, Travis Bickle is the one I can relate to the most.  In Taxi Driver, Bickle was disgusted with the crime and filth of near-bankrupt New York City.  Like Bickle, I have seen my share of filth and petulance around Winnipeg.  I, too, look in disgust at the crime, peddling, and freeloading I see from time to time on the streets of this city.  One Travis quote I can relate to really well is the following:

"Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets." (source: imdb.com)

Having sat alone in food courts, buses, parks, and even the library, I also wish for some kind of divinity, a natural force flooding what I despise into the acid of the sewer for dissolution.  This environment is especially intoxicating in extreme heat and extreme cold.  It suffocates the psyche.

In Taxi Driver, Travis has vigilante fantasies after he comes across a teenage prostitute named Iris (played by Jodie Foster).  He then purchases some guns in hopes of freeing her from her pimps.  Though I have no intention to purchase a firearm, I admit to having vigilante fantasies.  Time after time, I imagine myself behind the wheel of a 1962 Cadillac Sedan de Ville with my firearm in the glove compartment.  It's the middle of summer, and the temperature is muggy.  I've got my hit-list of released sex offenders taped tightly to the dashboard.

I track the first guy down.  I roll down the window to point my .357 Magnum, and the rest is history.  The assaulted woman who walks the streets in fear now feels a bit safer thanks to my actions.  It's a beautiful fantasy where good prevails over evil, morality becoming infinite and psychopathy perishing in the powder blast.  But this is reality, not fantasy, and I am hopefully still in control.

I always relate well to the movie vigilante.  I see characters like Dirty Harry Callaghan, Paul Kersey, or Travis Bickle as outlets to vent my frustration.  There is, however, a bigger reason as to why I relate to Travis: he is awkward and socially uncomfortable, and so am I.  Below is a clip of Travis I find especially powerful.  He's trying to get in touch with Betsy (played by Cybil Shepherd).  Travis took her on a disastrous first date; he took her to a pornographic movie theatre.  When she stormed away, he told her, "I don't know much about movies":

In this scene, director Martin Scorsese treats the viewer to an incredibly awkward phone call.  Travis's attempts to reconcile are so pathetic, it can be painful to watch.   There are many moments in my life where I have been just as pathetic as Travis making that phone call.  Or so I often say.

I am fortunate that my mental standing is strong enough to bring me to restraint.  I act without restraint only within my fantasies.  These fantasies, too, are not prevalent.  They are something I merely retreat to from time to time in moments of frustration.  But some go to the movies for different reasons.  They go to get ideas.  John Hinckley Jr. was one of those people.  He watched Taxi Driver over and over again to the point of shooting U.S. President Ronald Reagan in March 1981.  In the same film, Travis attempts to assassinate a presidential candidate.

I came to an interesting and somewhat frightening conclusion while writing this: we are all on the same spectrum of Hinckley.  Like him, we demand attention for our actions and deeds.  Like him, we have fantasies of what is just for ourselves.  That's why a movie like Taxi Driver is all too real.  The "good guys" aren't supposed to be burned out or mentally frustrated, but many of them are.  We are more like Travis Bickle than Harry Callaghan or Winston Churchill -- aggression minus the virtue.

We rely on movies for narrative sources we can understand: love conquers all, friends in high places, good over evil.  If one of those narratives fails for us personally, we cling to the others more closely.  Because we want it all to be true.  The master narrative is humankind's gratification.

The New Meaning of Valentine's Day

(source: coquette.com)

When I think of Valentine's Day, the above image now immediately comes to mind.  In growing circles, sex toys and "love lotions" are replacing chocolates and flowers.  I am sure there will be long lines at Love Nest, an sex toy shop in Winnipeg, tonight and tomorrow.

I find it significant that Love Nest operates as an actual chain of stores in a city as conservative as Winnipeg. Its popularity could mean that certain taboos about sex are fading.  But there's also something else at play here.  What does it mean when a sex toy story markets itself as the perfect place for Valentine's Day gifts?

You could say the answer is all too easy.  You could say that sex is the means to an end within a serious relationship.  But for a long time, it seemed that Valentine's Day was geared towards the platonic, not the promiscuous.  On the mainstream level, it always seemed to obscure sex and other taboos.  

At some point, though, the bubble hard to burst.  And so it did.  For a contest, Red River Radio gave away $25 gift certificates to Love Nest..  Can you imagine a college radio station holding a contest back in 1983, the year Love Nest was founded?

Through consumerism, we have a way of making meaning.  We also have a way of changing the meaning of cultural activities.  Collectively, we have turned Valentine's Day into a different kind of holiday: one that celebrates the so-called sexual taboos.  I think changing technology has had much to do with it.  We are plugged into social media, and we are more voyeuristic than ever before.  Our growing interest in the private has blurred the lines between private and public.  If the lines between private and public are becoming blurred, then so are the lines between what is taboo and what is not taboo.  The end result is booming businesses that couldn't be seen in the public eye about 40 or so years ago.

Do I Only Work for a Mr. Big Nip?

(source: salisburyhouse.ca)

Salisbury House is a brand I am loyal too.  Almost every week, I walk to the one on Marion Street to read a book and have an occasional snack of Pepsi and fries.  

On rarer occasions, I help myself to the Mr. Big Nip Platter.  Health concerns notwithstanding, I wish I could have all the Mr. Big Nips in the world to eat.  Trouble is, they're so damn expensive.  A Mr. Big Nip is $5.75 before taxes.  The Platter is $9.29 before taxes.  I'm a relatively poor college student, so a price like that burns a hole int my wallet.

Metro is doing all they can to help my predicament.  If you go to the Salisbury House web site, you'll see that  Metro is offering a 'Metro Monday Madness' special.  All you have to do is cut out the coupon and present it to your nearest Salisbury House for a free Mr. Big Nip.  Seriously, I love Salisbury House.  When I opened my apartment mailbox to find a book of Sals coupons, I literally jumped up and down.  The ideal Christmas/birthday gift for me is a $25.00 Sals Gift Card.  I feel like I'm six when I find out that Sals is giving me all these great deals.

But eventually, these deals will be no more, and Sals will be asking me to cough up the big bucks.  This has me thinking: am I pursuing a career just for this? Am I looking for a career just so I can eat at Sals more often (as long as I'm single)?

I can only hope the allure of brands is not the reason I'm finding a career.  I can probably say that this isn't the case.  I want to pursue a career in public relations because PR is an emerging profession tailored to my writing skills.  I want to do what makes me happy.  I don't just want a career just so I can afford more of that fine Sals.  Still, my attraction to this place has got me wondering.

Some, however, are just in it for the brands.  The power of the brand is so powerful, it can influence a person's entire career.  I imagine that some pursue a career in civil engineering just to get a Mercedes-Benz.  Not all, but certainly some.  

And it's not just professions.  Sometimes the power of brands even extends to relationships.  Young women will marry old men on their deathbeds just to get a Porsche or a fine steak dinner.  And if they're not going for decaying organic matter, they'll certainly go for the arch-typical bearded doctor who listens to Coldplay.  The hipster will fall in love with his girl just to get that rare 7" Arcade Fire single released before they got famous.  You get the picture.

In fact, almost all relationships are based on brands.  Are you going to marry that girl who loves The Rolling Stones just as much as you? Yes, you certainly are! Because without brands, there are no interests.  But you can't be some robot who goes through the meticulous process of finding the perfect match either.  So you bargain, you negotiate; in other words, you form the legitimate relationship.  If she doesn't like The Rolling Stones, you'll devote at least a quarter of the day convincing her that they're the real deal.  That same rule applies to the work place.  You work, you enjoy it, but you also take the time to go out on vacation.  

That's really what the ideal, happy life is: a negotiation with brands.  A negotiation with competing desires and emotions.  Of course, I will give that Mr. Big Nip a day in court.  But I will also make sure to give it a rest and tend to most naturalistic activities like going for a walk and writing.

I guess that's what the meaning of life really is.

Pay Your Cover, Change Yourself

(source: badinitials.blogspot.ca)

When you go to a bar or nightclub, you sometimes wonder if you're seeing real people there or just their put-ons.  By the latter, I mean forcing the loss of inhibitions.  In plain English: does a bar make you lose yourself?

I pondered this idea after leaving Whiskey Dix, a nightclub in Winnipeg's Exchange District.  On a sub-zero January night, I went there for a friend's birthday.  I had never been to this establishment before; I'm rather a foreigner to Winnipeg's club scene.  When I was inside, I noticed the place filling up with get-ups and cocktail allure.  Young women wore skirts exposing the red-cold rawness of their thighs, some of them bronzed under the rays of artificial fluorescence.  Some of the young men came in wearing the kind of clothing you save up for once per year.  

I wonder if some of them dress up that way in their homes.  After all, Halloween is everyday for some.  More importantly, is the desire there? Human mentality, in my observation, is almost one-third 'urge' or 'desire'.  Who knows, maybe some of them throw those clothes into the waste bins.  Either way, the bar transformed them, made them into upgraded or downgraded models.  They can either obscure their worst traits -- crudely-drawn tattoos, bad breath, or slovenliness -- or expose them all the same.  

When the thumping plastic pop filled the speakers, everyone, myself included, started dancing.  I didn't even care for much of the music.  Yet here I was dancing.  But I wasn't dancing naturally.  I was dancing the way people consume fast-food: no thought, just temptation.  If you stand completely still, you're in a vat of awkwardness.

You've been in this same situation.  What do you do? You follow the trail.  But why? Is it because of rhythmic temptation? Or is it something more? Is it the expectation you're going to be seen within this public space? Maybe that's it.  After all, throughout the night, the photographer went round and about the corners of Whiskey Dix to capture the social climbers and various hangers-on.  

Venturing into midnight in this old bank-turned-sweat lodge, I then found myself shouting the profanities to a hip-hop song along with my social group.  I was now a raging urban Dionysian in the Church of Raucousness. All that mattered were lights and rhythms obscuring personalities like mine.  People behaved almost the same and dressed almost the same.  And on my way out, I thought, what if there is no such thing as a 'party person'? What if it's just the behavior of the crowd influencing the behavior of the individual? What if that's the end goal of an institution like Whiskey Dix: to create a crowd mentality?

When I walked outside, I resumed my normal behavior.  Walking through the snow to catch my bus, I thought of the people leaving Whiskey Dix and where they went.  I wondered about their private lives and how they acted out of public.

I've come to the conclusion that almost every bar and restaurant will sell itself as a mythic part of your personality.  They do not do it explicitly.  Instead, they hide such messages into images and advertisements.  If you're at The Keg Steakhouse & Bar, you're being a professional.  You're the quick traveler, the person who hustles and bustles.  It's time for a fat juicy steak.  

If you're at Starbucks, you're the yoga-enthused urbanist.  If you're at some Ukrainian restaurant, you're homegrown and modest with Manitoba roots.  And if you're at Whiskey Dix, you're a partier, nature boy, nature girl (or maybe both), a rabid dancer, or a drunken sloth.  You could be one or all of these things because you know that's what you'll be when you enter the doors to a marketed reality.

The allure of international brands

The Winnipeg Free Press reported today that Marshalls, an American retail store that specializes in clothing, will be opening its first Winnipeg store sometime next year.

This probably would not make headlines in the United States.  But whenever a store from another country expands into Canada, people take notice.  Famous Dave's, Target, Best Buy, Forever 21, and Victoria's Secret all got considerable media attention when they expanded into Winnipeg.  So did Walmart when it purchased Woolco back in the early 1990s.

Remember Woolco?

(source: saclifeforce.com)

Sure, Americans are brand-savvy.  But because there are so many brands in the United States, many chains simply fade into the background.  If Target or Walmart opens up in a small city, it really is no big deal.  But in Canada, it is a big deal.  American chains are always at the forefront of Canadian consumer consciousness.  People line up for blocks when this new, exciting store opens.

But why is it such a big deal? Why do international brands garner so much attention in Canada? 

Because in this country, there seems to be a collective sense of feeling small.  As Canadians, we value our independence, but we admit that our influence on the world stage pales in comparison to that of the United States.  We are attracted to American brands because the influence of American culture is strong enough to "suck" us in.  But we are also attracted to American brands because, in many ways, we value being connected to the rest of the world.  Culture is now globalized, and so is our shopping mentality.  

In matters like politics, Canadians may resist the influence of the United States.  But consumer culture transcends political barriers and divisions.  We also marvel at brands from other countries.  IKEA (Sweden) is now the talk of the town in Winnipeg, and many of us also drive Japanese cars.  

What we are witnessing is not the Americanization of our culture and identity.  What we are witnessing instead is the breaking down of cultural barriers. 





The Winnipeg Jets: Symbols of Vanished Reason and Morality

(source: cbc.ca)

When the Winnipeg Jets returned in the fall of 2011, I did not know whether I living was in Winnipeg or in Communist Russia.  That big, dominating Jets logo was as omnipresent as the hammer and sickle displayed at any pro-Communist rally.

I literally could not walk a distance of five metres without seeing that logo.  If I did not see it plastered onto the bumper of a car, I could certainly see it on a cap or shirt.  I saw it stitched to men and women, elderly and newborns, whites and blacks and Filipinos.  I saw Winnipeg Jets flags hanging down from trees and apartment balconies, towers of glass, and the ledges of homes -- inescapable colours and patterns.  I was not draped in those colours, but my mind certainly was.

The logo is one of identity, and identity means power.  Identity lets people define surrounding areas.  To many living in Winnipeg, the Winnipeg Jets logo represents the city itself.

Many stand in awe at the sight of professional athletes.  But it is not the athletes that wow us.  Instead, we wow ourselves.  When the Jets lose, many in Winnipeg get the collective sense that they lose.

I cannot simply say that mass celebration of victory is an ethos of living vicariously through professional sport.  Rather, mass celebration represents a collective self-affirmation.  There is a sense of defeatism among many who live in Winnipeg, and anytime a professional sports team wins a game, many get the sense that not all is lost. 

And by 'defeatism', I mean the collective sense that morality and justice are things of the past.  Having read the news over the past few years, I cannot blame those who feel this way.  Who can honestly be proud to live in a city where a man tortures and rapes his daughters over a span of seven years? 

Who can honestly feel that the forces of good prevail over the forces of evil when Richard Dow gets a mere 16-month sentence and credit for time served?

Who can conclude that reason is winning over sheer absurdity when Darrell Ackman, a man facing serious child pornography charges, gets enough signatures to run as a candidate in the Fort Whyte by-election?

When morals are gone, the symbol prevails.  In a way, the collective symbol dies when many feel that morals are regained.  The symbol of the New York Yankees is a good example.  In the 1970s, as crime, looting, prostitution, and bankruptcy ravaged 'Fear City', New Yorkers everywhere cheered for the Yankees.  The Yankees were the only thing New Yorkers could root for and talk about.  When crime went down, people were talking about things other than the Yankees. 

It is the symbol that obscures the darkness of identity.  When darkness is obscured, all will believe the myth of divine exceptionalism.  For those who believe the myth, I would suggest reading this great column by Bartley Kives. 

The following passage by Kives captures my feelings appropriately:

 

                               I've long argued the civic despair in the mid-1990s was not just about the 
                               loss of the Jets, but a vestigial sense of entitlement displayed by a city that
                               never quite got used to fact it wasn't important any more.  Many times then,
                               I've argued Winnipeg must get over itself and finally grow comfortable
                               within medium-sized, ordinary-city skin.

                               And now that the Jets are back, I wonder whether this will ever happen.  I
                               wonder whether the jingoism of the "True North!" chant has subsumed our
                               collective capacity for self-reflection. (source: winnipegfreepress.com)


The collective wearing of a brand requires no mental effort.  It is all about emotion, not logic.  In a city like this, one can get sick from thinking because the problems can be complicated.  Ultimately, there is a desire to wear something powerful in the wake of collective failure to right wrongs.  We decry our justice system yet elect politicians who appoint the same old group of judges.  We decry our civic infrastructure yet vote for the same people who vow to do nothing about it. 

The problems, of course, become more complicated, more convoluted.  But the mere presence of the Winnipeg Jets allows everyone to forget absurdity a little more easily.  The logo of the Jets is the Cross, and the MTS Centre is the Holy Temple.  Everyone will wear a Jets logo and go to a hockey game to cleanse their interior remorse.  Nothing is cleansed, but the fabrication is good enough for just a little satisfaction.