Milieu Magazine

milieu magazine the deconstruction of societal constructions

The Gym Vs. The OutdoorsBush’s One (Good) QualityShort FictionAnd, maybe some sex

Why Entertainment is the New Xanax

DEC/JAN 2009FREE


D E C E M B E R 2 0 0 8LETTER FROM THE EDITOR INSIDE THIS ISSUE

Dear readers,

Look around you. Do you like what you see? Do you like where we – the human race – is head-ing? What about your environ-ment, are you scared for its fleet-ing existence, if you believe the environmentalists. What about pop culture? The media? The cur-rent musical environment? Are you content with the present?

But, more importantly, what about your social environment. Your milieu in other words. Are you satisfied? At the risk of sounding like an infomercial, I will stop there. However, in a time when class systems are still very apparent, a grow-ing divide between the haves and the have-nots is ever-widening, the Internet is constantly changing and evolving the way we communicate, where do you find yourself? Well, currently, you find yourself in the folds of a magazine centered on this topic. In any case, welcome to a fresh, thought-provoking analysis of your social climate. Drugs. Sex. Social mingling. Music. Culture. Society. War. Are not all synonymous, but they are very much a part of this magazine. In this issue, there are articles, which look at the contentious issue of global warming. Where did this topic come from and will it ever go away? Not likely. There’s a tongue and cheek piece that exam-ines entertainment as the new Xanax. With the newest blockbuster film, sleekest iPhone, newest indie rock band and, of course, Facebook the masses has found its new opiate: Entertainment. It’s so consuming that many forget the ‘real world’ actually carries some dire situations. On that note, an inside article queries, “Why not workout outside like everyone used to?” The piece investigates why people en-joy spending money on looking good at the gym, rather than just going outside to the good old tennis courts. We also included a short piece of creative fiction to satiate all of those voracious readers out there. Enjoy. Of course this is only the dandruff off the unsuspecting passerby as to what is compiled in the innards of this publication. Espe-cially so since this edition delves into some satirical, a tad serious and a whole lot of evocative issues. Enjoy the social environment around you.

Until next time,

Ryan BoltonEditor-in-Chief, Milieu Magazine

2GLOBAL WARMING:

A constant uphill battle that we don’t seem to be in control of anymore

4COVER STORY:

Why Entertainment is the New Xanax

6THE GYM VS. OUTDOORS

Get outside and workout (for free)

8SHORT STORY

Parental Guidance is Advised

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TheGILDEDpantherSpring & Summer 2009

{Collection}

GILDEDpanther

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GLOBAL WARMING:A constant uphill battle that we don’t

seem to be in control of anymore

Story by Ryan BoltonPhotography by Ryan Boltonm

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THE WORLD MATTERS

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I was thinking out loud today and something dawned on me. If poster boy Al Gore had released his harping documen-tary, An Inconvenient Truth now, as in this past summer instead of in 2006, would it have been as potent? For instance, as we

sat through a cold, very wet summer that saw only a little bit of suitable cottage downtime, one can ask: “Is the earth warming up?” Scientists predicted, and are still contending, that the past winter has been one of the coldest in decades. So if memory serves, when Gore released his seminal work (or was his seminal work losing the presidential race? I’m not sure) we had had a relatively green winter. (Pun intended: grass was visible during that winter). As such, if released this year, would people care and jump on the green bandwagon, which hit its peak at the beginning of last year? You know, Canada’s bold commitments to ward off climate change: eradicate incandescent light bulbs by 2012, drop out of Kyoto, and to ween out plastic bags in grocery stores. We will make a difference, we will. Or the fact that billionaire-cum-climate change combatant, Richard Branson has teamed up with Gore to wreak havoc on the world’s lethargy and ambivalence towards climate change. But the problem is that Branson owns Virgin Airlines and facilitates tons of

emissions annually. Or the fact that he travels from city to city, country to country on a day-to-day basis, personally emitting an insurmount-able amount of emissions. But whatever, it’s all in the name of a cause – a means to and end, if you will – and any other euphemistic clichés, which apply. And in truth, I concede that this is only the tip of the (meta-phoric and literal) iceberg on such a monolithic issue that has so many

facets to take into consid-eration to just

understand the rudimentary basics. In the end, I support the notion that there has been a change in the climate, which more than likely or “very likely” to use the words of the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), is due to human activity. However, the key issue I assert is that the IPCC also said that the global surface temperature had risen by only 0.6 degrees since 1900. Thus, the problem lays in the (utopian or dystopian) future and if the slight change in weather is a catalyst, which will only exacer-bate the change in the climate. So let’s leave it to the poster boys to predict the apocalypse or to lead us down an ineffectual rendevous.

You know, Canada’s bold commitments to ward off climate change: eradicate in-candescent light bulbs by 2012, drop out of Kyoto, and to ween out plastic bags in grocery stores. We will make a difference, we will.

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milieu magazine COVER STORY:

WHY EntErtainmEnt

is tHE nEW XanaX

Story by Ryan BoltonPhotography by Ryan Bolton

An inside look at the world of entertainment and its affect on the masses. Is entertainment making us docile? Milieu writer Ryan Bolton

investigates the issue

I was standing outside watching my friend inhale toxins through her cigarette. It was cold enough to freeze a polar bear. We were tensely debating the recent Superman movie and its undeniable attention and

media play. Our arguments were – like usual – cyclical. Instead of questioning the merits of the special effects, we came to the conclusion that entertainment has pushed politics – our usual subject of discussion – to the discarded wayside. We started to discuss this phenomenon. It’s an age where parents can no longer keep up with the ever-evolving world of technology, while its main audience – the youth – desperately attempts to keep up. Computer specs are on par with gas pumps as they are both constantly on the rise and no one really understands why. With important issues like an ongoing war in Afghanistan, perpetual genocide occurring in Darfur, Canadian and American elections happening, a

slowing global economy inter alia, many find themselves ha-ranguing about Monday’s Gossip Girl episode. During my discus-sion with my friend, she asked the following: “Is entertainment the new opiate of the masses?” I fumbled with my hands and my answer. At first glance, yes, mass entertainment has definitely changed the social climate, but to what extent? The youth are still very much connected to the world of news, although statistics say that high school and college students are beginning to turn a proverbial shoulder to the news and the way they receive it. British-based media watchdog, Ofcom found last year that increasing numbers of youth aged 16 to 24 are “rejecting TV news.” In the report entitled, “Future of TV News,” half of the surveyed said they followed the news only when “something important” was happening in world affairs. But students do still get their news – mainly now through blogs. The grammatically blasphemous, spelling mistake-steeped world of

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blogs and their everyday authors have altered the way many get the news and make sense of the surrounding chaos. After the Dark Knight broke film industry records in its opening weeks and the iPhone garnered unprecedented me-dia attention – not to mention waiting lines – with its summer release, it is clear that the populace is looking to be entertained. The constantly evolving electronic age is aiding this transforma-

tion.

Newer, faster gadgets are connecting individu-als to the Internet to their phones. Media sites and blogs are constantly able to update in real time. TV

shows and movies can be streamed and watched anywhere with an Internet connection. YouTube and its teammate Google have changed the way even journalists research. Not sure the spelling of “guillotine”? Type it into the omnipresent Google. The world of entertainment is quickly consuming that of politics, news, war and so on. I would type out the rest, but new Family Guy episode just came on.

Next time you are feeling drowsy and you decide to stream 90210, ask why. Is it because you want to be entertained,

or is it because you’re too tired to learn and pick up a book? Or maybe that is the cause of the problem. Too much entertainment leaves us too tired to think. I think that, at the crux, is the problem.

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milieu magazine COVER STORY:

Next time you are feeling drowsy and you decide to stream 90210, ask why. Is it because you want to be entertained, or is it because you’re too tired to learn and pick up a book?

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eENTERTAINMENT MATTERS

GYM VS. OUTDOORSGOING OUTSIDE TO EXERCISE JUST MAKES SENSE (AND SAVES MONEY, TOO)

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So here’s the deal: gyms, those sweaty places fraught with soccer moms and juiced football players, are super-fluous. And here’s why: we have the outdoors. Re-member that environment thing that we are seemingly

destroying quotidianly? So, you will be saying things, such as, ‘But what if it’s cold outside?’ or ‘I don’t like running with cars’ and so on and so flippin’ forth. Well, hold on and just follow me here, will you? The apex of my beef with gyms are that they are a) ostentatious b) a status symbol c) expensive and, d) unneeded. Main point: If you find yourself looking out the window while running on a treadmill – your intuition is right, something is wrong. Most go to the gym, ostensibly, to be seen working out. Like the common phrase, for example, “I’m going to hit the gym tonight” if not a conversation starter, is a status symbol to show

that you like to ‘keep fit’ and have the ability to work out with various other strangers in a fishbowl milieu while putting your flabby gluteus maximus through (so-called strenuous) exercises. It’s just human nature to want to belong to something. Gyms are a perfect example. And the solution to saving that plastic/paper in your wallet and superficially the environment (by not using a simula-tor to run on) is to go outside. Do it. You don’t need to run or push iron inside – go play tennis (I’m a huge new advocate as it works all your muscle sources) or burn your skin while swimming in a lake or play competitive Frisbee with your obsessive-

compulsive dog (I’m also a newborn advocate for this sporting event). Those sounds that you will hear, yeah, those are what we call birds commonly found chirping away in the wilderness. Just so you know, you might also find yourself sharing the tennis court with a squirrel. This, in comparison, to that guy who is always hog-ging the Stairmaster, is about your only problem with exercising outside. What do you say? ‘Well, I like to have all this (useless) equipment at my disposal.’ Well, in retort, we also have baseball fields, soccer nets, basketball hoops, swimming pools, tennis courts, volley ball nets, bike paths and a whole motley crew of other available OUTDOOR and FREE places to be seen while we exert our obese bodies rife with fast food and alcoholic bever-

ages. Another plus: While you might not think so, more than likely you are inap-

propriately using the gym equipment, which results in the staff chuckling to themselves in the corner. Yeah, you’re that person – the one who thinks they look impressive, but in reality are a) probably straining their bodies and, b) look ridiculous. Best way to avoid the muscle room faux pas – go outside where you are not entrapped by four walls and a plethora of sweet-drenched muscle matter. Please just question decisions, like, ‘Do I need to pay absurd fees to have strangers stare at my improper use of this monolithic, confusing mechanism?’ Then again, it’s your wallet and gluteus maximus.

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eThere’s a reason why no one is work ing out here. I t costs alo t o f money and i ts bet ter to just be at Lake Lou ise in a canoe. There’s no rea l a rgument here.

Main point: If you find yourself looking out the window while running on a treadmill – your intuition is right, something is wrong.


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Parental Guidance is Advised

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S H O R T S T O R Y

Now let me get this straight: since you’re an overbear-ing egotistical cretin rolling around in self-loathing behavior, I am suppose to forgive you?”

“Yeah, well, I was hoping you would hit that ball and then maybe catch it... if you know what I mean, my dear.” Our protagonist really didn’t understand anything around him, or actually, no, he did understand everything around him to such an astute level that it completely ruined him and everything that sur-rounds him. Some kind of perpetual-self-imposed-nightmare, if you will. Which was, of course, only exacerbated by his self-medicating and drug-induced ennui. “No, I don’t know what you mean!’ No one really does... that’s precisely my point. Your speech is so steeped in bombastic lan-guage and abstruse metaphors that no one can actually see past your pitiful life and obvious defense mechanisms – which really only have the barflies convinced.” “Well, isn’t that a bit harsh, my lady. And did you say, ‘ab-struse’? Isn’t that some magniloquent language yourself, my lady?” “Oh common, Frank. I’m not a dullard like your family and friends down at the Underground Table, I’m not just as... self-aggran-dizing as you are. You know just as well as I do that you’re constantly

up to your neck in doublespeak to just get you out of facing reality head-on. In a word, you’re a coward.” Our protagonist rolls over in bed to cover his five o’clock shadow and puppy-esque brown eyes. “So what do you want then? For me to change; send money to charities, hold car washes in my bikini, adopt a malnourished orphan from a distant tribe in Swaziland? Really, what’s all of this shit actually going to solve... is it going to make you feel better if I keep my dong out of everything that winks at me and cut back on the lexicon a bit? Truthfully.” He stares deadpan. “I’m sorry if you’re upset that you’re a bank teller, or should I say a facilitator between money-con-trolling machines. That actually makes me upset: all of our money, our most precious thing that we kill and start wars over, is completely, and utterly controlled by computers. Dystopia anyone?” “You know what Frank, you’re so conceited and smug that you have actually lost touch with everything but you’re beloved Faulkner. But, when push comes to shove, and reality comes back to bite you in the ass, is Faulkner going to sell-out like he did writing for Hollywood and actually comfort you at night and guide you on your writing downfall?”

CONTINUED on P. 10

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Fo l low Frank, the s tory ’s protagon is t , as he f inds h imse l f in one d i lemma af ter another. An ant i -hero o f shor ts , wh ich due to h is w i t and smartass approach to l i fe , f inds h imse l f wa l lowing in h is own se l f - loath ing ex is tence.

S H O R T S T O R Y

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CONTINUED from P. 8 “He’s been known to get me out of a sticky situation on more than one occasion...” “Well, I hope he is just as good in the sack... because I’m not sharing that godforsaken post-celibate thing – not after what you did to me...” Frank rolls out of bed in his black boxer-briefs exposing his quasi-chiseled abs to console Rebecca. Problem is, she’s already clos-ing the front door to his condo. “Shit.”

Sitting at the local cafe, Tuesday’s Special, Frank sips his char-black Ethiopian bean coffee. His king-sized Du Maurier slowly burns between his relaxed lips as the poison floats

above him. It’s his local spot – that spot that he comes to in order to people-watch and ironically get a breath of fresh air. Problem is, the air is usually stale with cigarette smoke and day-old coffee. The room is riddled with pictures of people, some being relatively famous, that had once-upon-a-time frequented the cafe. From looking at all of the photos, the most famous celebrity was Patrick Swayze. The rest of the decor consists of queer WWI airplane memo-rabilia and a sole wall decorated in the faces of “Have you seen this missing child?” pictures found on the back of milk boxes. That part of the room gives a macabre sort of a feeling. His black laptop computer, with the Apple symbol glowing on the back lid, sits in front of Frank. The screen is a clear white abyss that stares blankly back at Frank. Truly beautiful, if it weren’t for the fact that he was trying to clear that emptiness with words as he is a writer -- supposedly a good one at that. But Frank’s mind ran. It ran back to reading in bed next to Rebecca to throwing the ball to Frank, their son, and to the past week. That tumultuous last week.

Waking up to an unsettling mixture of the sun, a bad dream, the smell of sex combined with stale beer, and his dog, Possum, licking his face, Frank opened his eyes

and pushed his stain-covered duvet over his knees. His room was strewn with empty beer bottles (but they were the clear ones, not the green nor the feces-coloured brown ones), painted art and novels – a whole plethora of novels covering essentially every nook and cranny that wasn’t swallowed in either beer or art. Oh, and he had a small wooden closet which held his semi-respectable collection of quasi-vintage t-shirts and worn black jeans. Frank lifted his head, grabbed a partly-burnt cigarette he found on the floor alongside a matchbook and pondered his circum-stances with a long and slow drag of assorted toxins. “How’d ya sleep big fella?” A woman’s voice rang as Frank jumped and turned his head to the bedroom door where a young women, say mid-20s, stood. Frank’s blurred haze of a mind cleared enough to allow him to recall this woman. But he also recalled doing cocaine off of this woman’s breastbone. A pseudo-epiphany if you will. “Oh hey, well, if you look past my pounding head which feels like the fall of the Berlin Wall, then I’m all right.” She came for-ward and jumped into bed next to him and took a puff of his cigarette. “Do you want mama to kiss it better?”

“I was never one for the whole oedipal complex thing, sorry,” Frank replied as he reclaimed his cigarette and hopped out of bed and began to put yesterday’s booze-stained clothes back on. And as he began to put his pants back on, he noticed some blood on his hands. It was at this moment that Frank remembered more of last night. The gun, the blood, the whole botched operation. Jesus, he thought to himself. His mind started to run, like it always does, and he ambled out of the room to mix himself a stiff snort. “Darling, is everything all right? What’s the matter?” the woman questioned. “Well, if you see the four horsemen of the apocalypse as okay, then yes, everything is dandy.”

“Oh don’t be melodramatic Frank, you know that turns me off.” “Right, how could I forget your precious little ideals that need to be satisfied 24-fucking-hours of the day you coquette of a whore.”

The downtown street was vacant otherwise than the swarms of people walking by like ants on an anthill circling the queen. But Frank was isolated. The world moved at its

usual hyper-speed rate without noticing any of its inhabitants. Like a blinding snowstorm of people, but you’re the one huddled under a snowdrift losing touch in your fingertips. Their faces were blurred and rearranged and resembled pseudo-Picasso pieces. His head felt raw and was home to only a few thoughts firing around amongst a blackened ether of cocaine and malt whiskey. “Hey! Watch where you’re going crack head,” a voice rings out accompanied with some spittle into Frank’s face. The blurred representation of a yuppie stands in Frank’s view holding the clichéd attaché case, Armani suit, and stupid fucking haircut. Frank turns around, looks directly into the yuppie’s beady eyes and breathes the equivalent of rat poison into the prick’s face. “Of course young sir. How dare I interrupt your daily waltz accompanied with your own theme song, written personally by, Bach, I believe. But the real Bach, not one of his amateurish sons riding on a surname. Is there anything that I could do to make your day any better, my dear asshole,” Frank lets out in a semi-couth manner. The yuppie scoffs, slides his diamond-clad hand through his perfect hair, and keeps walking. “Glad I could be of some assistance,” Frank calls back, light-ing a fresh cigarette and taking the day’s first pull of refined poison and settling in for an oncoming bout of listlessness.

To be continued in the next issue of Milieu Magazine…

SHORT STORY

“Well, if you see the four horsemen of the apocalypse as okay, then yes, everything is dandy.”

“Well, if you see the four horsemen of the apocalypse as okay, then yes, everything is dandy.”


N E X T I S S U E

THE GREAT OUTDOORS: AFRICAWhy you need to stop saying you will go to Africa sometime, and just go

WATER SPORTS: BOOGIE BOARDINGWhen you need some exercise and want to be at the beach, go boogie boarding

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ART OR VANDALISM: GRAFFITIWhy graffiti holds cultural significance and shouldn’t be viewed otherwise

I N M I L I E U

milieu magazine presents

A night withGrammy-Nominated Jazz Musician

TERRENCEDAVISLive at Milieu Studios, Toronto

January 15, 20099 p.m.

CAN. $5.99 / U.S. No Sale

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