B Flat

2024-05-05

Dehumanization

Poetry

In the glow of screens, our souls entwined,
We trade real faces for ones designed.
Digital chains that tighten and bind,
A modern pact naively signed.

We scroll and click in a trance-like state,
Hearts turn cold as screens captivate.
The human touch we underrate
As devices dictate our lonely fate.

Echoes of laughter, once bright and near,
Now muffled whispers we barely hear.
In the silicon maze we disappear,
Our reflections grim in this sleek veneer.

Virtual worlds, so vast, so wide,
Where shadows lurk and secrets hide.
We dive so deep, the real world denied,
In binary swamps where truth has died.

Alerts that beckon with a siren’s call,
We’re puppets dancing in thrall to all.
Each ping a command, each notification a stall,
In the web’s tight grip we are so small.

Eyes glazed, fingers swipe with speed,
Feeding the beast, our digital steed.
Lost in loops that endlessly lead,
On pixelated crumbs we greedily feed.

So beware the light that never dims,
Where humanity fades and reality thins.
In the electric hum of our selfish whims,
Technology laughs as our essence swims.

** DISCLAIMER: this was generated by ChatGPT from a prompt I gave it, after which I went through and edited it for better flow and rhythm. I’ve enjoyed seeing what LLM can produce from a fairly specific prompt, but this will probably be the last generated poem I post.
2024-05-02

Despair

Poetry

In the dim recesses of a tormented mind,
A voice whispers, cruel and unkind.
It echoes through the hollow halls,
In relentless waves, on shadowed walls.

I fall deeper into this silent scream,
A soul adrift in a dark, waking dream.
Mirrors mock with a twisted grin,
Reflecting the loathing that festers within.

Each thought, a thorn in my side,
Cycles of hatred, deeper than wide.
Spinning faster, a maddening spin,
Dragging me under, the dark creeping in.

Why does the heart entertain such spite,
Turning day’s warmth into coldest of night?
I’m shackled to fears I cannot fight,
In this endless loop of fading light.

Self-inflicted wounds bleed unseen,
Staining the canvas of what might have been.
Every heartbeat an echoing drone,
In this carcass of flesh and of bone.

Yet, amidst this cruel internal fray,
A faint light flickers, far away.
Hope whispers soft through the din,
A plea to heal, from deep within.

So I grasp for it, through tears that blind,
A way to leave this hate behind.
For even trapped in the darkest of plots,
The soul still yearns for gentler thoughts.

** DISCLAIMER: this was generated with ChatGPT from a prompt I gave it. I then did some mild editing to improve flow and rhythm.
2024-05-02

Telco

Poetry

In the shadowed gloom of broadband’s glow,
Where data streams and lost dreams flow,
I penned my name, a fateful scrawl—
Sold my soul to the regional telco.

Bound by wires, spun tight and deep,
In digital webs where secrets creep,
My spirit locked in a circuit’s thrall,
To the humming surge of a spectral call.

Silicon chains and optic threads,
Where whispered voices fill dread with dreads,
In the echo chamber of my own despair,
Signals cross in the electric air.

The price for speed, for endless scroll,
Was the quiet death of my vibrant soul.
A pact inked in the ledger’s cold line,
For fleeting bars on a phone’s dull shine.

Once alive with dreams and wonder,
Now I’m naught but a number to plunder.
Beneath the flicker of a heartless screen,
My essence fades, unseen, unclean.

And as I stare into the abyss,
The static hiss is my Judas kiss.
Trapped forever, a ghost in the machine,
In the dark embrace of the telco’s regime.

** DISCLAIMER: this was generated by ChatGPT from a prompt a friend sent to me. I liked it enough I’m keeping it around.
2024-05-01

Wayfair

Poetry

In shadows cast by flickering screens,
A wayfaring stranger wandered through the dreams
Of rooms bedecked with lavish flair,
His every dime spent at Wayfair.

His heart once housed abundant hope,
But now it dangles from a fraying rope.
With each click, a joy, a chair,
A bauble bought, but cupboards bare.

Through halls of mirrors, illusion’s feast,
He piled high the gilded beast.
A chandelier, its crystals gleam,
Yet in its light, no warmth, no beam.

The sofa plush where he never sits,
Stares back at him, a counterfeit
Of comfort, for the fabrics fold
Around a life now stark and cold.

Once a king in his domain,
Now a prisoner in purchase chains,
Every parcel, every box,
An echo in the empty locks.

Outside, the world turns cold and gray,
Inside, he’s lost, the wanderer’s way.
With treasures stacked against each wall,
He owns the nothing, the all-in-all.

The stranger’s eyes, too tired to weep,
Among his wares, he’s buried deep.
For all he bought, nothing can clear
The debt he owes to his own despair.

Silent now, the checkout chimes,
The final sale in broken times.
His wealth, a whisper, gone astray,
A wayfaring stranger, lost to Wayfair’s sway.

** DISCLAIMER: I’ve been playing around with ChatGPT and this was generated by a prompt I gave it. As with any large language model, it has seen remarkable improvements over the past year. I’ve paid attention to its poetry generation in particular. Rhythm and rhyme are much better than they were.
2024-01-30

Thaw

Blog

And so begins the great, and unexpected, January thaw. Except I believe it’s actually ending. Or melting its last, at any rate. The last couple days have been much too warm for a northern January. Like +10°C warm. And that’s off the tail of some unrighteously cold days of -50°C, or thereabouts. Not only do we have polar weather, we also have bipolar.

The blanket of snow that once buried our house has liquified its assets and trickled down the drain spouts, creating considerable wetness in its wake. Until it cools overnight, that is, and creates many sheets of slipperiness along with consternation and excitement.

Due to this iciness, I slid down my drive this morning in my truck until I bumped into the slush berm the town’s sidewalk clearing machine creates every time it goes by. It’s honestly the first time I’ve actually been thankful for it, as it’s usually a big enough ridge I have to pull out the snowblower and blow it across the street to comfortably drive in and out of our yard. This time it kept me from being a crash test dummy. Once I was out on the street, I gently spun in place until the four wheel drive kicked in enough to pull the front of the truck back into my lane and out of the snow bank where the rear tires were attempting a deposit.

Part way to work I got a free truck wash. The drainage ditch that is theoretically supposed to channel spring runoff to the local pond was still hibernating and hadn’t got the wake-up call that spring had come early and it needed to look lively. I probably got 12-foot waves splashing over me when I hit the puddle, so that was fun and rewarding. The adult version of stomping around in puddles while wearing rubber boots. I got to do it a few more times throughout the day before the Town guys brought over a skidsteer to push the ditch open and get it draining.

Midmorning I witnessed a taxi attempting to drive forward while slowly sliding backward down the gentle slopes of the convenience store parking lot across the street from my office before suddenly swinging sideways and sliding that way for a bit. He eventually got himself back on the street and taxied off after his taxing experience. Good thing it’s not tax season quite yet. One customer that came in said he drove nervously to work and then used said taxi service to do his errands because he was too scared to drive himself around in all the ice and slush.

Next week looks to be winter again. It’d be nice to have it stay properly cold for the rest of winter and snow many feet. Winter should be cold and snowy when you’re in the north, not slush and rain. How is the local ski hill ever going to open if the snow keeps on melting? I want to ski, and not just in my boots on my driveway.
2023-11-05

Snow

Blog

Snow has finally cashed in its rain-cheque and arrived in town. Our world is gently dusted in the soft flakes of fresh, new snow — a real powdered sugar vibe, only much less sweet. It’s time for snow; we’ve had frozen weather for almost a month already, and when you live this far north, winter just doesn’t feel like winter if there is no snow to accompany the icebox temperatures.

Snow means it’s also time to swap out the summer paws on our sled dogs for their grippier and more weather-resistant winter paws. I’m kidding; we don’t have dogs or sleds. Well, some of us have a pet dog, like anywhere else in North America, but ours is most definitely not of the sled-pulling variety. He’d be fine being pulled on a sled, but it’d take far too much effort and concentration for him to actually pull a sled.

With the snow very likely sticking around for the season, the time has come to swap out our summer tires for the winter tires. All-season tires work, but dedicated winter tires do usually work better. Because of the softer rubber compound, they grip far better at our ridiculously low ambient temperatures and inspire so much more confidence on the road while dodging the slipping and sliding All-Season believers. Each to their own, whether you like driving safely on the road and meeting all your time commitments, or whether you enjoy doing some amazing macrophotography of the snow-covered flora and fauna in the ditch to calm your racing heart while waiting for a Good Samaritan with a long enough tow rope to pull you out to pass by on the other side, mainly because he couldn’t stop in time due to the slippery road conditions you’d been attempting to ignore.

That’s one basic rule for survival when living in the remote North: if someone is parked on the side of the road with hazard lights on, you stop and check on them. At the temperatures we get, you can freeze yourself quickly if you do, in fact, have vehicle troubles, and the more immigrants we have in our area, the more people we have who are traveling these sometimes crazy roads ill-prepared. You don’t leave the house in a hoodie and sneakers to go driving when it’s -25°C, and for sure not when it’s -35° or -40°C, unless you bring all the warm clothes along. You’ll be one abominable snowman or woman with extreme frostbite in fairly short order if your car has a problem and you have to walk for help, but you forgot to bring warm boots, snow-pants, parka, gloves, and toque.

Anyway, stay warm til next time.
2023-09-28

Redeployment

Blog

Fire Season in Alberta usually starts in spring when the weather warms and nothing has greened out yet. Dead, dry matter burns well. Who knew? Fire Season is typically over and out by the end of August. But not this year, in case you hadn’t caught that from previous posts. Fire Season is still ongoing and it’s nearly October. That’s Unusual, with a capital U.

An aircraft mechanic stopped by my shop earlier this week to order some commemorative stickers for his crew. He mentioned that this is the first time his water bomber crew has ever been “redeployed” after Fire Season was officially declared over.

The Basset Lake fire near the indigenous settlement of Chateh flared up again. As in, it ran more than 30km in one day, burning merrily along, vaulting Highway 58, but tripping on the power line on its way over, cutting power to a couple communities, and blanketing the area in thick smoke. Needless to say, the Chateh residents are back in High Level for another unplanned “Evacuation Holiday” this year. Three square meals a day, free laundry services, free propane and fuel. What’s not to like?

Tolko, our local lumber mill, had a satellite lumber yard in the path of this sprinting fire. When they called for water bomber support to douse the heaps of dry wood to keep them from igniting, they were informed that Fire Season was over and the bombers had been stowed away. However, when a fire is raging and endangering indigenous communities, government officials can act quickly. Hence, the redeployment of Alberta Wildfire Air Attack Group 13. They’ve been diligently working to calm the fire, extinguish hotspots, and officially end Fire Season 2023 once and for all.

This aero-mechanic I spoke with mentioned that Fire Season typically starts around the NHL Playoffs and is over by end of August. However, this year he got to watch the Pre-season game in which the Flames soundly beat the Canucks 10-0. Let’s just hope the flames by Chateh don’t beat these courageous canucks of the sky in like manner.

It’s high time for Fire Season to properly close and stop the overlap with Hockey Season.
2023-09-22

Powerless

Blog

Today is beautiful. Warm (26°C/79°F), with clear sunny skies, until you look to the west/southwest, that is. Then your eyes behold a beautiful big cloud front, which upon closer inspection you realize is actually a smoke front. That’s right—another post that talks about smoke and fire. But not dust and ash.

Today a source-who-must-not-be-named mentioned whilst in my shop that the Basset Fire (140,000+ hectares) has been travelling again. North, to Alaska. Well, not quite that far, but it is going north to the highway along which there happens to be a power line. This line supplies two communities to the west of us—one indigenous settlement (Chateh) and one oilfield settlement (Rainbow Lake). The closer community (Chateh) has been evacuated twice this year: once in spring due to flooding and once again in mid-summer due to fires. Now they may lose power. Honestly, they’ve been evacuated for at least a few days every year since 2018. They are, dare I say, powerless in the face of nature. What an exciting place to live.

As of 3:00 this afternoon Alberta Transportation closed the highway from our town to Chateh, as the conditions are smoky and sparky. the power company has been trying to protect and fire guard the power poles as much as possible to keep them from becoming powerless. I guess we’ll see if that works.

One of our guests from Yellowknife said the “bright idea” of fiberglass power poles is all great and wonderful until you have a fire nearby and the poles get hot. Then they just droop over and bow to the great and fervent heat and attempt to touch their toes. Wooden ones either withstand the heat and just turn black or powerlessly burn and dangle. Unless too many burn. Then they dangle no more but collapse unceremoniously in smoldering heaps.

The main transmission line to the rest of our county seems to be in luck. The fire is 44km to the north and the prevailing winds are blowing the fire away from the line. We may be powerless in some areas of life, but when it comes to electricity we aren’t powerless as of yet.
2023-09-19

Busy

Blog

Why does life sometimes speed up to such a frantic pace? If my life was a heart it’d likely need a pacemaker to even it out.

The last few weeks Yellowknife has been allowing residents to slowly trickle back home. The essential people went first to get all the public services running and prepared for the nonessential people. Then others began slowly wending their way home from all corners of the province and wherever else they’d been. It seems every day there are a variety of NWT license-plated vehicles travelling through town. I’m happy for them. Being displaced from your home for 3-5 weeks is neither fun nor for the faint of heart. If you are faint of heart a pacemaker might help, tho.

Last night we had a couple lively old ladies stay night—one 75 and one 81—on their way home to Hay River and Fort Smith. They’d been sharing a hotel room in Grande Prairie for the past five weeks, so were understandably quite excited to be only a few hours from home. It was heartwarming.

Autumn is in full-swing in our part of the earth. This year our Aspen trees are displaying their usual shades of drab brown and golden yellow accompanied by vivid oranges and brilliant reds, so that’s pretty cool. We don’t get reds and oranges every year, except at Christmas—then we get mandarin oranges, and my little girl loves oranges. Perhaps the colour was influenced by the sheer amount of smoke we’ve had this summer? Regardless, it’s beautiful, and observing the kaleidoscopic colours fills my heart with joy.

Speaking of smoke, that’s about all we breathe these days. It rolls in and out like the tides of some clumsily overweight ethereal ocean. Some days it’s clear and beautiful and the next day you can taste the smoke—if you’re a mouth breather, that is. Yesterday afternoon the streetlights were turning on before 5pm because of how thickly the smoke had rolled into town. Heartless old fires, anyway, smoking in areas clearly designated nonsmoking.

And so much ash. Whole pine needles and aspen leaves come floating down, completely charred and turned to white ash, yet all in one piece. We have literal drifts of ash on our driveway and on our vehicles. Maybe everything will grow heartier next year with all this ash.

The reason for the ash. A fire has flared up to the west of us near Rainbow Lake, again, but this time it’s burning towards the main power transmission line that supplies our entire county. Our county is larger than New Brunswick, but our population is only between 20-30,000. If this line burns we could be out of power for 2-3 weeks. Life may only get more exciting in the near future.

We may need some sort of pacemakers to keep life at a livable speed so we can catch our breath if it weren’t so smoky All the Time. My heart burns. Oh wait, that’s my lungs.
2023-08-30

Smoke

Blog

This morning was lovely. A great day to be alive, until, that is, I looked out the window and could barely see my backyard. I wondered first if the window was fogged up from showering, but it’s not winter so it shouldn’t be fogging from a small amount of warm, humid air. I looked out more windows, but they all looked back at me with the same blank, greyish-white look. Similar to the look I’ve seen in people’s eyes when I’m verbally boring them on a topic of zero interest, only to find out later that they had cataracts. Speaking of zero interest, we look forward to the day when interest rates come down again. But I digress.

The wildfires burning north of us must have reduced to a smudge, as the smoke is so thick you can barely see the curb on the far side of the street. Unless, of course, it’s fog mixed with the smoke. It could be that the clouds were getting lonely and wanted to come down to say hi, much to everyone’s annoyance.

From what I’ve read recently, the fires around Yellowknife have updated their status to “Being Held”, so that’s nice. Maybe holding the fires will help them calm down a bit. It works for my little daughter, and she can be fiery and intense sometimes. At least the fires are no longer advancing on the city. It’ll be yet a little while before people can go home, though, as the essential services (déjà vu, anyone?) need to be fully functioning before residents return: grocery stores, fuel stations, etc.

Further south, but still north of us remote northern creatures, poor Hay River seems to be getting fired from all sides but the lake. Here’s hoping they can get it held as well so the town doesn’t suffer too much more loss.

Enterprise, on the other hand, is not. As in 90% of it is ash and dust and burnt out remnants. I’m curious what and how it’ll be rebuilt. It’ll definitely keep some people busy for a while.

Suffice to say, it’s been a wild ride this summer. Smoky, too.