what we found
so much for the pleasant island cookout we came down for.
if i collate this burnout with the weird, crunchy-ash-laden scar i found on the raft a coupla times ago, it seems that the asshole(s) who burned the thing didn't even stick around to watch the fire: they seem to've placed some kind of incendiary on it (the ash reminded me of that remaining from railroad flares) & left it to do the job. since it failed the first time, they may've stuck around slightly to make sure it took this time around.
it doesn't even seem to've been used since i was last there, having left it pulled up onto the jetty from the left with Pierre's paddle tucked down alongside it (where it still was).
since the great fire of 19oo, Ottawa/Hull has been plagued by various forms of spontaneous combustion. during the time i lived on Somerset (18 years on the block between Preston & Rochester), 12 fires occurred that mainly reduced buildings to vacant lots & killed 5 people (the Thach family, who'd run the Mekong Grocery, which'd been rebuilt after having been burned out in 19oo), only one of which was the result of arson (the Lao-Thai Market, an intense explosion blowing out the front window & raining canned goods all over the street & the vacant lot beside ours (which itself was the result of a triplex burning down); apparently, their son didn't like being being forced to work there). earlier this year, the TesserActual Artefact Gallery we'd built on Île Yvette-Naubert burned to the ground due to 3 pinheads' inattention to the candles left burning on the top floor, destroying several thousand dollars worth of art that'd been donated & "permanently" installed.
this fire was no accident: it was deliberate (possibly malicious?) arson (does someone have it in for Pierre or i?).
why?
how could the thrill of a half-hour's worth of polystyrene fire be a better thrill than that of using the thing over & over to explore all the waterways & islands in the immediate region?
how exactly izzit "fun" to know that y'r wrecking the fun of many others (& preventing some of yr own)?
what kind of special misery motivates a so-called "person" to be destructive instead of constructive?
is there some special glow of solace in knowing that you've made many people aware of what a stupid fuckless asshole you are?
"questions questions questions, filling the mind of the concerned young person today. ah but it's a great time to be alive ladies & gentleman. it's so fucking great to be alive..." (FZ)
& it is a great time & place to be alive, despite the twitwits whose proclivities toward destruction make all our efforts toward constructive play so tedious to maintain (& our basic belief in & hope for people so difficult to retain).
do we really need the help of arsonholes to keep the region burning?
what we found
so much for the pleasant island cookout we came down for.
if i collate this burnout with the weird, crunchy-ash-laden scar i found on the raft a coupla times ago, it seems that the asshole(s) who burned the thing didn't even stick around to watch the fire: they seem to've placed some kind of incendiary on it (the ash reminded me of that remaining from railroad flares) & left it to do the job. since it failed the first time, they may've stuck around slightly to make sure it took this time around.
it doesn't even seem to've been used since i was last there, having left it pulled up onto the jetty from the left with Pierre's paddle tucked down alongside it (where it still was).
since the great fire of 19oo, Ottawa/Hull has been plagued by various forms of spontaneous combustion. during the time i lived on Somerset (18 years on the block between Preston & Rochester), 12 fires occurred that mainly reduced buildings to vacant lots & killed 5 people (the Thach family, who'd run the Mekong Grocery, which'd been rebuilt after having been burned out in 19oo), only one of which was the result of arson (the Lao-Thai Market, an intense explosion blowing out the front window & raining canned goods all over the street & the vacant lot beside ours (which itself was the result of a triplex burning down); apparently, their son didn't like being being forced to work there). earlier this year, the TesserActual Artefact Gallery we'd built on Île Yvette-Naubert burned to the ground due to 3 pinheads' inattention to the candles left burning on the top floor, destroying several thousand dollars worth of art that'd been donated & "permanently" installed.
this fire was no accident: it was deliberate (possibly malicious?) arson (does someone have it in for Pierre or i?).
why?
how could the thrill of a half-hour's worth of polystyrene fire be a better thrill than that of using the thing over & over to explore all the waterways & islands in the immediate region?
how exactly izzit "fun" to know that y'r wrecking the fun of many others (& preventing some of yr own)?
what kind of special misery motivates a so-called "person" to be destructive instead of constructive?
is there some special glow of solace in knowing that you've made many people aware of what a stupid fuckless asshole you are?
"questions questions questions, filling the mind of the concerned young person today. ah but it's a great time to be alive ladies & gentleman. it's so fucking great to be alive..." (FZ)
& it is a great time & place to be alive, despite the twitwits whose proclivities toward destruction make all our efforts toward constructive play so tedious to maintain (& our basic belief in & hope for people so difficult to retain).
do we really need the help of arsonholes to keep the region burning?