James Bay Culture Blog #3

1. TRUST

Listen -- I don't want to lie to you.

When you read this blog, you must trust me to give you “the real dirt.” Otherwise how can I expect you will be deliriously, wonderfully addicted to my fantastically unusual blogs? So I have no choice, I've got to give it you straight:

James Bay Day was NOT REALLY A DAY.

It was a mere 4 hours, from 11AM-3PM on Saturday Sept 13 2008. 240 minutes in which to gather in Irving Park (Michigan & Menzies) to revel in the tangible soul of our fair region.

I know you're probably thinking, "Hey! 4 hours isn't nearly enough to honour this community!" And I agree with you. You have my promise that we are working to extend it to a full day. The kindly old ladies at the James Bay New Horizons Center assure me that by working together with focus and commitment... We'll get those other 20 hours!

2. FESTIVE ENCHANTMENT

I, your humble Community Adventurer had been lured down to this event by large, black-on-blue posters featuring a Giant Heron. The cheerful volunteer-girl at the Park entrance informed me solemnly that this bird was now the official mascot of James Bay: Irving the Heron. It was, she said, the indwelling spirit of Irving Park. This was the first I had heard of any “official mascot” nonsense, but – what the heck! -- we could do a lot worse than worshiping a giant mystical bird. They could have chosen "Woo"... Emily Carr's depraved pet monkey.

Wandering into the park, I encountered a realm of festive enchantment. Rows of multi-coloured, gravity-defying balloons mingled with huge flags depicting butterflies and Pegasuses (Pegasi???). Gentle sunlight warmed the thick green grass while a gentler breeze cooled it back down. Waves of rustic-eclectic Worldbeat music floated around our heads while children scampered, seniors puttered around, and we all wondered what “Lily's Famous Afghani Bolanees” would turn out to be. Delicious scents of popcorn were sneaking up my nostrils -- just one of the many PG-rated treats available from the James Bay Parents- Advisory-Council Hot Dog stand. We sat on hay bales, listening to the soft braying of baby goats, wearing cheap, crafty fake-floral head-dresses with veils (Martha Stewart meets Cleopatra?).

The bored ambulance crew waited, made cell phone calls, dozed, and waited.

Very, very nice. But something was missing...

3. GLIMPSES FROM BELOW

Where, I wondered, were the regular Park inhabitants? Had the hippie hobos, scruffy can-collectors, drunks and “musicians” left of their own accord? Or were they driven away by this armada of tidy Good Citizens? My communal instincts longed to reunite these tragically divided population segments. Pondering this matter, I took seat under an ancient Beech tree in the shade, watching for any signs of madness bubbling up from the “underground reservoir” of James Bay's collective mind.

For a long time, I only saw superficial family-friendly recreation.

Then:

A crazed woman. Her enormous haunches straining the seams of her bright blue trousers (I hope she isn't reading this...)as she waddled past me with a piping hot Starbucks coffee. The slight 2-degree slope of the ground was too much for this poor lady and – she lost control. Crying out, “Uhhnngph!” she dropped the cup which, it turned out, was actually filled with piping hot Vegetarian Chilli. Dismayed and overwhelmed, this poor thing proceeded to wander the area making odd clucking sounds deep in her throat. The discarded smear of faux-Starbucks, half-liquefied bean sludge remained long after her departure. Perversely intriguing.

Then, even weirder, was the LARGEST CARROT I HAVE EVER SEEN! This creature was grooving to the wild maracas and bongo beat, clapping his obscenely oversized hands and trailing around behind a golden-skinned cowgirl -- his “keeper.”

His propagandistic t-shirt read “Active Communities of Victoria”... but mere slogans could not justify this LSD-inspired, humanoid root-vegetable whose permanently fake smile was not -- I prayed – the true embodiment of James Bay Day.

Monstrous.

4. THE MYSTERY

Everyone here was, apparently, willing to “go with it,” surfing passively on the easy energies of this event. As the only critical observer and, possibly, the only sane man left in James Bay, I certainly had my work cut out for me.

Quite sanely, I rose and walked to the Irving Park Grass Labyrinth, following it slowly to the Center. At this hallowed location, I intoned certain archaic incantations preserved by the ancient Hermetic-Occult mystery cults. After a moment, I felt the familiar “fuzzy streaming” as I slipped beyond normal consciousness into that strange Interspace between worlds. Here I called upon Irving the Heron God.

His eyes were terrible, vast and curious.

What...do... you... seek?

“How,” I demanded, “can we enliven true depth of community among these people?”

FOOL. Your entire world trembles in blood & madness. First, let all the nations rise up to this empty, golden plateau of good cheer. Help James Bay to assimilate the goodness it already has. Many wretched mortals will die for a flag, a drug or a quirk of religious terminology. Who among you is willing to vigorously defend what is NICE and PLEASANT? Digest THIS feeling. Protect it and spread it. Only then we will worry about transcending it...

“Thanks,” I said, turning to leave. “You've given me a lot to think on.”

And one more thing...

“What?”

...Kill that goddamn carrot.

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