Sky Over Landspace

Sky Over Landspace
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 20th December, 2009

Time's are a changing as things fall into place.

An obsession with climbing internationally that started nearly two years ago in this same place (Hampi, India) has come full circle to fruition. I'm trading in my plans of going to the Mid East, Europe and Africa for a full two year committed climbing tour, driving through the Americas with three lovely people and potentially a load of sponsorship. I've been reminded to be more creative so let me just delve into the touchy-feely:

The water has taken it's time to wear away the burs and borough through. Two years plus and pushing five more. This life of travels wears one smooth, leaves the hardened core of genuine ambition clear. I am ambitious in this only. My life falls together; photography, climbing, friendship and love. The measure of success is only in your ability to spot a line, to harness coincidence as omen and pursue happiness.

To test and test and test myself against the campus of every opportunity. And so I return to the Americas.

The Edge Of Reality Is A Frayed Nerve

The day before my 2 year anniversary of leaving Canada I'm waiting for visiting hours at a Northern Thai prison. I sit in the grass discussing manifest psychology and drinking iced coffee. A woman stalks the crowd outside, hawking colourful balaclavas. The sun moves a little and steals the shade I was using. Jesse and I compensate.

The black vinyl seat of our rented scooter is getting too hot in the afternoon sun. I feel dehydrated and my right hand has an unidentifiable stench about it. Hand sanitiser is too pussy for a seasoned traveler, so I rub it into my hands when the crowds attention is called away for an announcement of the prisoners who have lined up behind the bulletproof glass. Our friend's name is called out in Thai. We hesitate. It's called again, this time with the prison guard flagging our attention.

Inside, Ikiu is remarkably happy, but the cigarettes we bought him cannot be passed through the speakerbox. He asks for 200 Baht as the timer goes off and he's drawn away from us. We oblige and he smiles. The two actions have no correlation.

Outside we transfer our money in. I recognise an old face from a distant time when I traveled here before. Peter is white, old, morally bankrupt and someone I could never trust. I like his stories. He tells us that Ikiu is in the can with his good mate, that his uncle is connected to the local mafia and that the motive of his crime was vague. The police exaggerated, but he did chase someone down with a Samurai sword on his scooter. I think of Kill Bill immediately. A new fondness for Ikiu sweeps over us.

Later we will join Peter for whiskey.

Hookerville

Hookerville, aka Datang, is the border town/slum/sprawling bordello of sin and kareoke between Thailand and Malaysia but mostly in Thailand. It's also the town where we spent our last evening on this, our epic journey to extend our Thai visas.

Hollywood Club

Oscar's Entertainment Palace Complex

Helo Bangkok

Erotic Kareoke

A Line Of Ketamine Off A Hooker's Ass

I also bought black market Gudang Garam Indonesian Kreteks for a buck and a quarter.

Lonelily

It's raining on Tonsai
I'm flashing 7a
Rolled cigarettes burn away the afternoon
I think about the phone numbers I don't know anymore
and wonder where to find them
Humidity halts tattoo healage
I contemplate a year on the road
Things cycle back to tendon strength
I drink a Sangsom Soda to burn off the cold
Emotions roll around and sour in the cheap whisky
I blog

Me, I'm A Ramblin' Man

Ramblin' Man by Lemon Jelly...loving that tune all up and down the world these days. Here's a poem I wrote on a bus while smoking hand rolled cigarettes and trying to decipher Kerouac:

We're going, we're going
where?
hold on
stick head out window
of moving
bus
catch
breath
velocity forced
wind down throat
gasp
fight word out
Suph...an...buri?
How do you spell that?
"Chao Rai?"
"Lok Sip Baht!"
"120 togedder"

SEAHORSES!!!!

SEAHORSES!!!!
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 4th September, 2009

He Xin and I have finally finished our mad UNICEF assignment...I'm just posting off the photos now...it seems that these photos view a bit desaturated in web browsers, but the originals are all a lot more sun pumped. Anyway, look at how mad cute this kid is. Chinese children could be the new source of renewable energy if we can only figure out how to distill "cute"

Break Wrist

Break Wrist
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 24th September, 2007

I came across a brilliant web comic that's basically changed my life...or at least my afternoons at work.

This is basically why I will always hate point and shoot cameras.

BattleStar

My friend has hidden all of the season 4 Battlestar Galactica disks again. My private revolt has been to wikisearch Grace Park and try to imagine how awesome it would be if I moved to Vancouver and she left her husband and did chinups for me. Sigh.

In other news I'm WORKING for UNICEF and I feel a little dirty about being paid by them. Not, like, Ron Jeremy dirty, but certainly a little tainted.

Oh yeah, and my website needs your critique.
do that

www.kaareiverson.com

Love

Ascent Into Globalism

Ascent Into Globalism
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 3rd August, 2009

China is moving forward and I'm moving out...back to simpler things where there's only electricity at night...and then only sometimes. In the near future my sunny skies will not be obstructed by buildings and I will not climb out of caves using these confounded electronic stairs!

Tinkerbell

Tinkerbell
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 23rd July, 2009

We took a bus
any bus
and got lost in the Chinese stops
got off
got more lost
found a market
took some pictures
bought some 回力s
now my kicks are slick
and so is this pic

*rhyming structure not intentional*

*Also, I've been watching a lot of Beyonce concert footage lately. You should to if you're feeling randy or like...whatever.*

The Depths Of Ignorance

The boss is out of town. Earlier today the receptionist put an Ibiza trance rave on the communal television set. It was loud and obnoxious and full of extasy fueled boobs. I liked The Beyonce Experience more. I wish they would put that back on.

Apparently my concern with what's W.A. is waning. Today I caught MYSELF looking at tits in a glass walled office. I think I'm going to try to intern for Vice.

Forgotten Ramblings

Facebook: Blocked
youtube: Blocked
Blogger: Blocked
Twitter: Blocked
Flickr: Sporadically available
most proxies: blocked
My time in China: coming to an end.

I'll be moving on back to South East Asia soon...back to Thailand, back to Tonsai, back to two months of rock climbing and adventurous substance abuse (I only really just said that cos I know my Mom reads this).

I've (99% sure) landed a job in Tonsai working as a professional climbing photographer for OnTheRocks. Dream Job! Hot Damn! Come visit!

I've rediscovered a love for Michael Jackson. I guess that when stars fall out of the sky we are prone to mourning them with our love.

Speaking of stars, I've started to watch BattleStar Galactica. I know that some readers of this blog are saying "finally!" others are saying "lame!" and still others are trying to pronounce "Galactica".

Finally, I may have H1N1. Probably not though as I seem to be getting better and this seems awfully reminiscent of that time that I thought I had SARS the last time I was living here.

Racist Toothpaste

Life Abroad
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 9th July, 2009

In the last two years I've gone through three pairs of shoes and 7 pairs of flip flops. I've been hidden away in desert oases leaning Persian drum technique and photo paper emulsion. I've readied a knife in my fist when it seemed certain that the Russian mafia we'd been drinking with in a post-soviet state were about to turn on us. I've studied the inner workings of a 17th century bell tower. I've sat under the sun in the birthplace of Hannuman and shared opinions through the scarred and bloodied eyes of a meditating Sadhu. I've thrown bananas at an effigy of Parvati, missed, and hit Shiva instead. I've learned to count in more languages than I can calculate. I've grown a love for my life that was never there before. I've opened my eyes to the possibilities below the surface of our reality. I've dipped my toes into Asia.

I sit in the back of the bus
in Asia
on days when the humidity
gets tense enough to burst
and boil monsoons
or typhoons
all over us
I sit in the back of the crowded bus
on padded seats
that smell like pussy sweat
and try not to get aroused
hell
it might be fuzzy balls
for all I know
I could ask
I've studied this language
I could ask
but enough of the mystery of The East
has been revealed
that I leave it
the last gem
of Asia

Asia
you've captured this heart
on plastic clothes pegs
and strung me up to dry for days
under your wet sun

Asia
I'm a Gora
A WaiGuoRen, a Boolei
and a MoGuai
when my feet are flying in flip flops
to smack the sides of fleeing city buses

Asia
I am the deepest well
that can never be filled with
gawping stares
or more pairs of broken flip flops
and no I don't want to tell you how much I paid this time

Asia
I've learned to eat with my hand
and with little wooden sticks
but still you've got to question
your eyes at the sight of this

Asia, baby, darling
I'm not mad about that time with the Cholera
so please just give it to me
spicy enough to hide the dirt
I'll be happy, you know?

Asia
9900 Rials to the dollar
will 30 cents get me over the border?
The Kurds keep selling me whiskey
and I keep drinking it
even after the sign said
"Death Penalty"
thank you and I'm sorry

Your fragrant offering dish of countries
has confused my senses
and left me stranded
but I don't wanna go yet anyway
are you done with those noodles?

Asia
you've mummified my organs
with cumin and coriander
and MSG powder
I'm damaged goods
and half of me is illegal
to import back to Canada
Between the opiates
I sweat Tumeric and spit Myrrh
Asia
you can't bribe the cops back there
and I'm not painted patriotic
in fact
after all this rice
and whitening soap
I've turned a little yellow
healthy yellow
yellow golden sunshine yellow
and I can't afford to keep canceling these tickets home
so
I guess I'll stay
just one more season on
is that ke yi ma（可以吗）?

Focusing In The Dark

Focusing In The Dark
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 2nd July, 2009

I can't remember which photographer it was that inspired me to try using this back lighting technique but I effin' love it. It's fantastically cinematic and somehow manages to force the expression of the subject straight down the viewer's throat. It also appears to be a nice match to city backdrops.

The Draw

I've spent nearly the last year in China trying to distill from all the madness and maddening humidity a reason for why I had once loved this place. A reason for why I had once considered this to be as home as any home. I haven't found it.

What I have discovered instead is a certain bitterness for expatriates who insist on residing here without accepting that they are, in fact, living in China. Those who live with blinders to the culture around them. Those who have been here for five years and still can't ask a taxi to take them home because they don't speak a single syllable of Chinese. Those who I once idolised for their liberal lifestyle, I have come to realise are just the people that I never wanted to be, transplanted into a financially fertile environ. I'm not impressed anymore.

Of course there are exceptions to this example...and, in fairness it's biased more towards expats who actually do have a twisted sort of love for this place and do devote themselves to understanding the language and the culture. I have devoted myself to it, and though I do have a certain love for this place, I now understand that China is not my home (at least not the south) and that I must strike out again in search of this idea of home.

I have a ticket for the 7th of September that flies me straight back to Krabi, Thailand for a two month dpearture from obligations and pollution. I'll be climbing and taking pictures and hopefully getting paid for the latter from time to time. Then the great subcontinent of India will finally finish reeling me back in. The heavily perfumed hooks that it left burried in my heart have been pulling tighter and tighter since I last left and it's time to go back. I'll spend another birthday in a world class climbing hotspot. Hampi will take my fingertips and I will take the power of Hanuman.

And then 2010 will arrive. I will head north with the changing climate until I find myself in Nepal. Here I will join my father for a trekking adventure through the Himalayas, drink Chai at altitude and get drunk on fermented Yak lactates. My beard will grow faster than it ever has and I will dream of the Scandinavian country from which my family came but I have never visited and I will visit it. I will plant all three legs of my tripod firmly strandling a fjord and not leave until I have left my mark in every hipster magazine you were ever cool enough to buy at 7-11.

And then Africa.

*in our next intallment we will discuss the big project: home/canada/sustainability and art spaces

Whipper

Whipper
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 3rd June, 2009

Hannah Roy...falling

麻将!

麻将!
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 23rd May, 2009

I can't actually access blogger right now thanks to China's interference...but I can post pics to it through flickr. Ah the wonder of syndication.

Patio Over The Deck

Patio Over The Deck
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 14th May, 2009

A day of mega multipitching on limestone Karsts with Hannah Roy in Yangshuo, China

Rendezvous

Rendezvous
Originally uploaded by kaare.iverson
on the 8th May, 2009

Here it is, the first of a new career...well, it's not really anywhere near a career yet, but I did do a restaurant review and this is what came out of it. It's my first (to be) published work with the intent of "being" a photographer.

Yangshuo Assault

Let's take our clothes off and see who's stronger.

Jewnicorn

Nathan moved to China with us! Yay!

No Photo Force

I have no photos to back this up but I did just return from a quick trip to Yangshuo where I saw Chris Sharma and his GF. Sadly I didn't have the opportunity to either meet them or watch them climb. Balls...but I did get to crank on a new project on Lei Pi Shan which I hope to redpoint next week and I did get a gnarly sunburn from an unsuccessful 25km bicycle ride hunt for The Egg (another bluff in Yangshuo).

Overall, after hanging out with traveling climbers again I've been reminded that working is for suckers and dirtball climbing is for winners. I'm going to be a winner again soon. 4 more months...

Skullhammer

My cousin's band Skullhammer thrashed the Kelowna Mission Hall while he was back from music school for the Easter holiday.

Canon 5D Mark II
EF 16-35mm f/2.8L II USM @35mm
1/80
f/2.8
ISO 800
Concert's stage lights

Cute Eyes

Look at these cute eyes.

Canon 430EXII Speedlight Manual

If you're like me and you ended up with a Canon 430EXII Speedlight sans manual or with a manual in a language other than English, French, or Spanish then this link is probably pretty useful for you (it covers the custom functions new to this model and gives some additional info that wasn't completely covered in the 430EX manual):

http://akamaipix.crutchfield.com/Manuals/280/280430EXII.PDF

*at the time of posting Canon has yet to list a downloadable version of the manual

Photo Force

I'm trying out some new styles and techniques...and my new lens and flash:

Teaching English as a Second Life

There are 6 folders on my desk. Each folder takes an hour to teach, so each folder represents an hour of work. I hate working for someone else so this work is called labour. There are 6 hours of labour on my desk. I must do them one at a time.

There is one email in my inbox. It is a poignant invitation to work as a photographer in the West Bank of Israel. This is what I want to be doing. I love this idea, so I will call it love. There is one love in my email inbox and I must love it all at once.

Recyclable Language

I've written enough selfish love poems
on foolscap Chinese lantern craft paper
to tip the balance
in the battle against Green Peace
and since I'd rather be on their side
I'm giving that up
so this is not a love poem
this is a petition
that was written on
recycled cardboard
with broken corners
from too many hands' use
because we've all had this idea
but perhaps gotten a bit confused
by the muse we met shopping for beige capris
at Wall-mart

the idea that "Love Is A Battlefield"
and that we need to hide
ourselves
from the bruises of our Lovers
wear "Boy's Night Out" like body armour
and play poker to play off
our responsibilities to expectation
expecting that saying
"I love you"
means I'll mold myself to you and
you to me
until two becomes three
and we bear the bastard child of
forced fidelity between us
bear it like infidelity
bear it like, damn!
Why'd I ever say, "I love you"?

was it your super-rad purple Converses shoes?
your emo-core tattoos?
the loose strand of hair that
deliberately
hung there?

did you ensnare me again
in the complex web of romantic dynamics?
the ones we were taught
and bought into without critical though
the ones with the ideas of romantic
perfection
unachievable and ever sought
the ones brought over by Turkish poets
and injected into the infected
remains of arcane European
God fearing
Woman hating culture?!
Are you again
the Holy Virgin Mary
begotten by the Magdalene
begotten by the Mandala
begotten by Gaiya
forgotten but for the clay idols
cast in blind female form
little nipples made with torn and dirty finger nails
...

do you think we needed a feminist movement then?

when the bends and curves of beauty were built on functionality
when a woman not
pinioned up on high-heels
like a cornerstore popsicle
available everywhere
predictable, pre-wrapped and
disposable
was yet considered hot!
when expectations of the self-titled "relationship"
had yet to be defined
and the institution
of wedlocking paperwork
had yet to pollute
the formless idea of love
and this boy/girl bullshit
didn't enter into it
no blue job
pink job
no home job
office job
better job
bitter job
not even the language to express the difference
between want
and need
and so true love was born
as we beat the meaning into our chests
hunger = want
desire = want
need = want
and the selfish became beautiful
no room for the convoluted
everything said was true

want you
want you
I want you

Photo-Ma-Blog

Here's hoping that none of my current employers read my blog:

So, in a never ending quest for change and general escapism from complacency (this sentence structure sucks), I'm becoming a photographer...yep, I'm giving up English teaching (after this contract...) and pursuing something that I've loved all along. In as much, here's a photo:

I Like...

I like it when the weatherman stares blankly with that lost expression, standing in front of his green-screen at the end of the report, waiting for the cameras to cut back to the main desk.

I like it when porn stars have pimples on their asses.

I like it when people absently bump into the corner of a shopping mall kiosk and look at it as though it was the corner's fault.

Dead Trees Come Alive

I'm here to pull apart
Le Bonaparte mentality
that's come between you and me
the trinity
two humans and their spirit; three
and I'm sure that you'll agree
never to disagree that a tree is green
and all the things we've seen and done
when divided by the final sum
equal out to one

even the Math Rabbit running
8-bit laps in my mind sees it
and he's from a consciousness of raw logic
Commodore 64
and very little more, you see
we grew tired
and hardwired
on the plastic canvas
and brand this
The Golden Cow
The 电脑 (dian nao / computer)
但是这个有问题 (dan shi zhe ge you wen ti / there's a problem with this)
这个没有 creativity (zhe ge mei you / this doesn't have...)
这个没有 the ability (zhe ge mei you / this doesn't have...)
to see with more than electric eyes
and catalogue eclectic styles
and all the while we model our minds
and build our bodies in the blocky style
of 0's and 1's

the machine flexes its guns
but I can see it's come undone
Frank Booth broke the back off
of knock-off tape decks
torn up and rewired
Ghetto style
Bubonic-ebonic-electronics
because they made a better noise
as they were being destroyed
this is the subconcious reemployed
thought was meant to be enjoyed
not toyed and fucked with
till it fit on a floppy disk
hold up
let me list the risks of thinking that thought is otherwise:
1.) To so compromise our minds might make madness the foreman of art, rather than the other way around
2.) The crown of thorns was worn by he who wanted us to see that we are one. If we forget the battles fought for freedom of thought then it's fair the think that we in turn will bear the burden of a hopeless flight to barbarism.
3.) Without a mind to mix, melodies will sound like this--

Guangzhou Schedule

The woman at Starbucks speaks Chinese to me and English to the Chinese customers who enter after me. I order a Tuna Puff and a Grande Coffee of the Week. I know all the language except for "Tuna Puff" and "Coffee of the Week" and I get what I want.

Last night I woke up in the middle of the witching hour because the cats were playing a banjo and the juxtaposition made me feel uncomfortable.