Put symbols together. See what happens. Communicate, meaning to make common. To relate over green tea. See what it’s like to break bread over ramen. Put symbols together to stop the closure of the commons of the mind. Why write when one can rhyme? Why sprite when one can lime? Play Flume Monday, you’ll be fine. Bloom. Go to sleep with the divine. Wake up to little white lines in the sky. Marry em before you get d’barium. Life, a solarium without the glass. Quit your job and make it last. Pick your love and make it first.

Never before have I witnessed such an eventful season. The Spring has gone streaking through the corridors of our collective consciousness. Through the quad and into the gymnasium. What I mean is this: Numerous folks in my life are being tickled by the prevailing winds of change. Some are being blown around by these winds. Others are harnessing its force. Altogether, this observation has brought me great joy. I love being alive to see the ways in which people I care for navigate change in the face of FUD (fear -uncertainty-doubt).

As I commune with these freshened souls who bear new shoots in the spirit of springtime, my intention is to build the strength of water, to learn more from birds, and to confidently approach changes in my own life with equipoise and playfulness. To actualize what was once a pipe-dream is an electrifying blessing from cumulus to cattail.

We know very well these times are strange. Carry a compass. Foster an open mind, and an open heart. Keep the quiver close. I have so much to say, but I remain too content to elaborate. This season has been an enchanting one. May your summer be bountiful. Lay beneath the honey locust of your gratitude and bask in the shade of your imagination.



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No witty quote will be used to begin this entry.
It’s been months since I last blogged.
I’m practicing pithiness.
To keep things curt. Not brusque. But concise. Sometimes frank. Mostly succinct.
The kitchen sink that is my life contains few dirty dishes. The kitchen sink is a metaphor for my conscience. The drain is not clogged. Good pressure from the faucet. I am done with this metaphor. It’s not fluid enough.

Alright look. Me and my favourite lady went out to British Columbia and New Brunswick to see a total of four communities. Which of these four communities was the best place to call home? The one in New Brunnie took the cake. Colourful people. A Common Cause. 88 acres held in trust and shared among those who delight in living on the land and refuse to adhere to the failings of a disgraceful culture. A blossoming community awaits. TJ and the author will be there by the end of this summer season to begin our self-appointment process (i.e. one year spent in the area before being given 2.5 acres of land).


What a time to be alive.

Nearly six years (!) spent smattering my soul about this blog I call When If Not Now. It began as a travel blog. I thought it had transformed into something more domestic, but I’m afraid I’ve continued to travel––emotionally, mindfully, physically and metaphysically. HC SVNT DRACONES. Built a castle in the sky. Beneath it goes the foundation.

Although my body has begun to sense the creeping influence of the aging process, my mind and spirit continue to grow in a protean way.

My writing too. This past Winter I put together a booklet-zine-pamphlet thing called The Altered State of Legalism. I ran a small print of 50 copies. It’s about law, but it’s really about contemporary bondage. Now I have two publications. One ebook, another in print. Now I’ve made The Altered State of Legalism available in digital format for free. It’s an exposé. I invite you to read it thoughtfully. It may be the only occasion I ever write something I consider, philanthropic.

My novel, The Leukocytians, has finally been transcribed to my computer from the raw typewritten manuscript I wrote over a year ago. Still a lot of work to be done. I’m happy for the passing Winter season and the Springtime moxie before us. Let us be thankful for what we have. Deprive fear of life-force. Foster love. Harbour courage. Honk twice if you enjoy satori.








I have some real shit to say.

Last night much of the downtown core experienced a power outage.

I explored the urban darkness and found a pita place to eat at. Inside the employee draws attention to the stillness outside. “It’s the colour of the universe,” he says aloud.

Hip hop fills the whole place. I ask him if he’s heard the new Joey Bada$$ album. He hadn’t. But he ‘fucks with him.’ He likes Joey because he speaks the truth and that no one does that anymore.

“I like telling people that their slaves,” he says to me.

“I do too, but it’s difficult,” I say to him and smile.

He starts going off. Talking about metaphysics and the New Proverbs. The omnipotence of Sound and Truth. I dig it all. Right there with him. I told the dude I’d return Tuesday to drop some literature off (see: The Altered State of Legalism above).

The moral of the story is this. 1. Take chances when interacting with people. You might learn a lot. It is not that hard to amaze and be amazed by our fellow earthlings. 2. Power outages are exactly what this civilization needs. After all, one day the power will turn off and never turn on again! “The cracks is how the light gets in.”


Thanks for reading. It’s yours.

P.S. If you’re a hip hop phile like myself, I strongly recommend three new albums. Damn by Kendrick Lamar. Amerikkkan Badass by Joey Bada$$. And Bucket List Project by Saba.

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Make One With.


Allow me to Elucidate:
1. Nearly every human in the western world registers and numbers oneself.
1. Nearly every human in the western world personifies oneself, meaning, they incorporate oneself.
2. Numbered or personified humans are identified as humans in search of benefits.
3. Benefits are provided by humans who organize around what is known as the State, a fictitious faith-based entity with personhood.
3. Those in need of benefits lack the skills required to maintain their own wellbeing.
4. Numbered humans must relinquish certain powers in exchange for said benefits.
5. The modern industrial lifestyle is arranged for the well-numbered human beneficiary.

In case the subject of this entry eludes you, it’s about “identification” as it is commonly and uncommonly understood, and how I’ve gone without this contrivance for nearly two years now.

From Oxford’s Etymology Dictionary:

identification n. 1640’s
“treating of a thing as the same as another.”

identify v. 1640’s
“make one (with), associate (oneself)”

It is important to note that when we commonly use the noun identification, we mean only one thing: a card that includes your information and perhaps a listless photo of you, issued by humans who act as agents for an organization called the Government of Whatever. A pretty severe distortion of the truth.

In reality these “pieces of identification” denote two things:
1. Proof of agreement and,
2. Performance of agency.

So I haven’t had valid identification for almost two years now save for a birth certificate. Sometimes I choose to share this information with people. Most times I don’t. When I do, the response is predictable: “How do you … do things?”
I don’t ! I cry. I just sit there !

No health card.
No driver’s license.
No SIN card (I have a SIN #).
No credit card.
No passport.

In my ID-less two years I’ve managed to …

… secure medical attention without healthcare.
… get behind the wheel without a license.
… use prepaid credit cards and reimburse friends and family for the use of theirs.
… be employed hassle-free.

It’s important to realize that membership cards (i.e. identification, identity documentation, proof of agency) and the benefit programs that underpin them allow us certain privileges, but of course––as indicated by people’s incredulous response to my not having “ID”––virtually all of us confuse privilege with necessity. To associate or contract with the Government of Whatever is not required by law, nor is it required to prosper. I repeat, to associate or contract with the Government of Whatever is not required by law, nor is it required to prosper!

Sobering, evidence-based reality checks, Saaaa-WOOSH:

Health care is not a necessity, it is a service.
A driver’s license is not required by law to put a private automobile in motion on public roads unless one is engaged in commercial activity.
A SIN number is not required by law to secure gainful employment.
Credit is make-believe and typically predicated on fraud.
A passport is for neutral vessels only, not for travellers.

Given that we are well into the throes of a creeping totalitarian power-grab predicament, my feelings and actions toward a renunciation of statist memberships seem natural if not sensible.

I renew my identity once in a while, but that’s on my own terms. In my own company. No one will compel me to do it. I encourage you to identify yourself too.


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entactogens and you

“Psychedelics are illegal not because a loving government is concerned that you may jump out of a third story window. Psychedelics are illegal because they dissolve opinion structures and culturally laid down models of behaviour and information processing. They open you up to the possibility that everything you know is wrong.”
T. Mckenna

This entry has been rewritten three times. Three is a pretty good number. But good is not a very good word. Let’s try a word that rhymes with good. How about misunderstood. To rewrite this entry three times is to banish misunderstanding, hopefully. Sanguine. It means to be optimistic in a difficult situation. It rhymes with ergotamine. An ergotamine is an alkaloid present in ergot, ergot being a fungal disease of the rye grain, alkaloid being an organic compound having a physiological impact on us humans. Grain rhymes with brain and some people have found a way to transform ergot into lysergic acid diethylamide, otherwise known as LSD, which has been shown to enliven the human brain in a curious way.

A typical square of LSD is 100 micrograms. The first time I tried it I took 25 micrograms by myself – what’s called a microdose (albeit a larger dose than what’s touted by progressive editorials as being micro). Things happened, notable things. The end result was that my physical and mental relationship to cold temperatures were strengthened (long story). For me that was a direct result of LSD metabolism. I had only taken a fraction of a standard dose. I’m still perplexed. Why is this noteworthy? Why did I want to include a personal experience in the final edition of this entry? Because the sharing of personal experience is propaganda’s kryptonite.


This won’t be a lengthy entry. The volume of psychoactive literature out there is voluminous. Anyone can find it (particularly in the science fiction section). If theory is what you’re after, I suggest you visit MAPS (Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies). What I will do is summarize a few things:

  1. The reason why psychedelics are experiencing a surge in attention is because many people are finding they’ve exhausted the problem-centric attitude taught to us by corporate media and a western upbringing. Psychedelics, when used in earnest, can be helpful for those of us who are intent on transitioning from a problem-oriented attitude to a solution-centric attitude.
  2. Consumer culture has created a climate of spiritual poverty. Entheogens (e.g. ibogaine, ayahuasca) and psychedelics have shown time and again to put people in touch with something deeply profound and transcendent, something culture has all but eradicated.
  3. The psychedelic movement’s strongest persuasion appears to lay in its medicinal value. Studies I’ve come across of LSD, MDMA, Ibogaine, and DMT-assisted therapy enforce the idea that these compounds can improve our mental health tremendously.
  4. Prisons are essentially holding cells for drug-related offenders. They should be burnt to the fucking ground along with all the legislation that is responsible for such prosecutions.
  5. Us humans tend to admire creativity, wonder, and bravery. These are just some of the qualities that embody the psychedelic experience.
  6. If you have not experimented personally with any of these riveting psychoactive substances, I recommend you do.
  7. If you have not experimented personally with any of these riveting psychoactive substances and you judge those who do as inferior or “______,” or you sow a climate of fear, doubt, or prejudice based on what corporate information agencies (“news”) broadcast, then I’m afraid you are in breach of human evolution.
  8. hicks_drugs



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i can’t believe i’m still here

Some thoughts.

I woke up this morning. “I can’t believe I’m still here.”

Social networks are personally off limits due to a fresh change of brand ambassador in the U.S.A.. I cannot fathom the thought of promoting commentary on the matter, lest I run the risk of relapsing into the very idiocy responsible for the disgrace that is this culture.

reasons for hope :
falling leaves
a lover’s smile
healthy silence
living systems
self knowledge and trust

Got my first paycheque for the book I published last summer, Sirens, And Other Unpublishables. (Which I have just discovered is now listed on
Thank you to those who contributed in ways both economic and otherwise. Your support is a treasure trove in the cove of my heart. My first yet-to-be novel, The Leukocytians is in a box on the floor, unfinished. I am scared to look at it.


In lieu of a free-of-charge and thus widely broadcast UN documentary called Before the Flood, I couldn’t help but type my two-piece.

The United Nations:

Nope. Why? Any supranational, intergovernmental force with 15 branches of operation, countless special agencies and partners, complete control of both polar regions of Earth, a 193 nation membership, a sterling public relations record and a 70+ year work ethic to establish global submission to its agenda of “cooperation” is so untrustworthy that it’s almost impossible for me to not declare it as a bonafide enemy of the free world. If my words conflict with the prevailing image of the UN (brought to you by their PR firm), please refer to the quote below.

“If the world is saved, it will not be saved by old minds with new programs but by new minds with no programs at all.” –– Daniel Quinn, The Story of B

My favourite lesson of the month has come as a grand surprise! You have a thing called a Birth Certificate, yes? Evidence suggests you and I may be using our legal names fraudulently. An extract of our birth certificate (i.e. a copy) is all we have to prove our legal name. In law, this is known as colour of title.

If you are not in possession of the original birth certificate or the original live birth record, and you have not been given, in writing, express permission to use it (like we are given permission by some supposed queen to use a passport), then it’s likely you have been guilty of trespass and fraud since an early age, because we have essentially been driving a stolen car around named Fletcher Domingo or Jane Doe. I am still learning, but I challenge anyone to rebut this claim.

… steal away from the fanatic clear

away the clutter from the attic, a

to gattica, b

supernova black matter

shatter the glass jaws

of past flaws

As I prepare to front-flip into the olympic size pool that is my 29th year on aqua firma I give thanks to the tremendous diving board that was my 28th. It has felt like the longest solar year in recent memory, and one can only marvel at the faces and places, experiences of joy and sorrow that await a man with the nerve to live.


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In my last blog entry I put the cart before the house.

Once the Cape Breton dwelling was inspected and the results were in, we were advised not to mortgage the home. Problem with the foundation. Problem with this. Problem with that. It was a liability, so we terminated our agreement. “Don’t be afraid to walk away” others had told us. No problem. Wu wei. Smell ya later.

Found in that not-so effortless nonaction was tremendous life experience. I’d like to share with you a bit of what I learned. The purpose: to expose a cornerstone of adulthood, which, after much anxious bewilderment, left me with high blood pressure and a face only a pug could relate to.

Not knowing where to start, I will say this. A mortgage is a glorified rental agreement. If you happen to pay off the principal plus decades worth of interest, you still do not become the free-and-clear owner of your property (e.g. your home is levied and subject to permits and the whims of outside management (“your railings are too low, you must accept our electricity, dispose of your poop in this here underground container, ad nauseum”)). So it’s technically worse than renting. Why? Because feudalism still exists. And there is a racket in place meant to extort you until you die. Don’t defenestrate yourself just yet, reader. There’s more.

Real property law is an overwhelming subject for a novice like me to study. I bought a book on it anyway because well, I prefer to make informed decisions before participating in any delusion this society promotes as “standard practice”.

As I worked to cross-reference our Agreement of Purchase and Sale with the Law of Contracts I found several discrepancies that made me uneasy. I won’t give a detailed account, but I can assure you the brokerages, like the banks, like the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CHMC), are all systematically fleecing you out of your money and your right to be the holder-in-due-course of your deed (normally classified as a ‘warranty deed‘).


The (un)fortunate few among us who have managed to pay off their mortgage do not own their home. They hold title to their home, which is to say, you get a placard on your desk with the name Joe Doe, but the desk isn’t yours. You want the desk, believe me. You want the fucking desk. Like George Costanza, one can only hide underneath for so long.

The generation to which I belong is entering the market to buy a house. I have written this entry as a notice (caveat emptor!) to friends of mine who may soon enter the wolves den that is the housing market. Please read up on this stuff. It is not at all what it seems. As the crotch of society’s underpants continues to tear, it’s high time to go commando. What I’m trying to say is, educate yourself and take responsibility for your own business! Rigamarole is not a type of pasta, so why do we continue to wrap it around our forks? We’re trying to eat here, free of encumbrances.


Housing is about as essential as it gets folks, and we’re going to have to change our course sooner or later if we’d like to shelter ourselves and our loved ones without impoverishing ourselves of currency and spirit.

Call in Well.


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