I have moved to pro­gres­sively smaller cones. Many, many of them. http://t.co/ezjMv9P

11 months ago

nowhere near as morbid as it sounds

All I want to do lately is go out and shoot and edit and post, but I have no sto­ries to tell. I’m still try­ing to write them, so I can put them in these cuts and look back and live for­ever in the mem­o­ries. To dance among the motion and glim­mer, and blink against the bright­ness of the sun.

I’ve been filled with such tremen­dous inten­sity, and hope, and excite­ment, buoyed by the fact that I’ll always have a gui­tar and a dis­arm­ing smile.

burlesque cake

 

Peace has been made with this new-self. It’s as if every change, every cycle I go through, takes time for me to get used to the new skin. I know I’ll always be flawed. I’ll always make mis­takes, but that means I’ll always be learning.

I’ve had enough of crazy devel­op­ments. I’ll be happy once the dust set­tles and I’m back to my reg­u­lar life again, some point beyond the sum­mer. The spring is never remark­able; it’s just a haze between the heat and the snow. It already smells like hot sum­mers nights, a com­fort­ing mix of pollen and con­crete. It’s gonna be oh so good.

Prepare to be smoth­ered in maple syrup. http://t.co/HjotYpj

11 months, 1 week ago

How did I find a pick in my bed? I think my gui­tar has some­thing to tell me…

11 months, 1 week ago

old habit

  • Rob: Sometimes it still hurts. You know how it is, man. It’s like, you wake up every day and it hurts a lit­tle bit less, and then you wake up one day and it doesn’t hurt at all. And the funny thing is, is that, this is kinda wierd, but it’s like, it’s like you almost miss that pain.
  • Mike: You miss the pain?
  • Rob: Yeah, for the same rea­son that you missed her… because you lived with it for so long.

—Swingers

I’m in my last days of high-school again. Pretty much this. Feeling like I have the rest of my life ahead of me with so much to look for­ward to, but only cause I’m try­ing to shed every­thing that hap­pened in the final dis­as­trous year.

I remem­ber writ­ing a lot back then in this black note­book. It was filled with all these ver­bal scrib­bles, short pas­sages of text, words, lyrics, emo­tions I couldn’t con­tain. My thoughts were a jum­ble, lost some­where between the pain and the love of how it made me feel alive.

That’s how I feel now. Old habits break hard.

About once every two years I uncer­e­mo­ni­ously threw it out and bought a new one, because I hated every­thing in it. I never wanted to think of myself as the per­son who wrote all the things in there. Sometimes I won­der if I’ll look back on these entries one day and think the same.

I spend 90% of my time in drafts.

11 months, 1 week ago

Dear busker out­side the LCBO,
How does your gui­tar deal with the extreme dry­ness of Canadian winters?

11 months, 1 week ago

New OC Transpo bus with auto stop announce­ments and updated mod­ern seats makes me feel like I haven’t taken the bus in 20 years.

11 months, 1 week ago

I take the bus when I’m too stu­pid to be driving.

11 months, 1 week ago

every red fucking light

it’s far too late to be doing this, but I know I’ll lose it if I don’t get it down right away.

cause the music. my god. you never truly feel it until this hap­pens. like it’s writ­ten for this moment, when the song isn’t over so you have to dance in the car for 0:34 cause you’re home already.

i wasn’t going to men­tion any­thing until there was some­thing worth men­tion­ing. then i excit­edly spilled my guts to trol­ley over the grilled atlantic salmon.

things fell apart shortly thereafter.

i keep think­ing of how i wouldn’t have changed a thing if i had to do it all over again, how any­thing done dif­fer­ently wouldn’t have made a dif­fer­ence any­way, but that’s never much com­fort is it. these are also the nights i queue up only three songs to make sure I get out of the shower in a timely manner.

aaron knew some­thing was wrong when i broke into a sweat and took off my coat. i lied cause it was his day and not mine, but all i wanted to do was go home and drown myself in iso­la­tion and play until my fin­gers bled1.

i’ll always be caught in this flux. there is no arrival for me. the oscil­la­tion has always been the des­ti­na­tion, but the waves get a lit­tle calmer each time.

  1. he knows how bad i am at hid­ing things like this, how it always eats me up, and i feel ter­ri­ble cause i know how he always wants to take me away from that. []

downtown condo

About a year ago I lever­aged the equity in my cur­rent house to buy a down­town condo. It’s under con­struc­tion now, due to be fin­ished in another two years. My orig­i­nal inten­tion was to rent it out or sell it (depend­ing on mar­ket con­di­tions around the time of clos­ing), but ever since I came back from Europe, I’ve been flirt­ing with the idea of mov­ing there myself and rent­ing out my house instead.

I’ve missed that feel­ing of con­nec­tion after walk­ing in cities that were bustling and full of life. There’s a cer­tain inti­macy to urban liv­ing that I long for, where every­thing is within walk­ing dis­tance and peo­ple are all around. It doesn’t help that I work from home in a sleepy area in the east end, mostly inhab­ited by retirees.

facade

27 storeys of glass and metal.

It’s an extremely tempt­ing propo­si­tion. I’d finally have a bal­cony and view from a cor­ner unit on the sixth floor, close enough to the ground to do some peo­ple watch­ing but far away enough to stay pri­vate; some­thing I’ve missed greatly from my first years out of uni­ver­sity. I’d have big south-facing win­dows to fill the place with light in the morn­ings. I’d be in the heart of down­town, just a block off Elgin, walk­ing dis­tance from the Rideau Centre, Byward mar­ket, and the NAC. I’d have access to the 4500 sq. ft. recre­ation cen­tre which includes an indoor swim­ming pool, a sauna, fit­ness facil­i­ties, a pri­vate lounge, and guest suites.

The condo is also a lot more my style, as these are mod­ern, New York-inspired lofts (most of the suites tak­ing their names from NY neigh­bour­hoods and land­marks), each one with hard­wood floors, indi­vid­ual HVAC and stack­able washer/dryers, a flush European-style kitchen, and 24-hour concierge ser­vice. I get to pick out my colours and fin­ishes soon, and I’m already plan­ning where I’d want to put my furniture.

But I don’t know if I can give up the place I have now, due to the lux­u­ries afforded to me by the extra space: a spare room I can use as a photo and Tai Chi stu­dio, a giant closet, and least of all, a liv­ing room large enough to host inti­mate house shows or small gatherings.

Think I just pulled an oblique mus­cle while fart­ing. What stretch­ing am I sup­posed to do to pre­vent that? #physed­has­failedme

11 months, 2 weeks ago

Official copy of Humble and Brilliant, and you is jeal­ous. Also with the cover of the year. #rljd http://t.co/fg1BlkE http://t.co/MPOrU5b

11 months, 2 weeks ago

The Short Life of Leonard the Cat

The hard­est part was putting away his food bowls, and that ter­ri­ble sense of final­ity that he’d never be eat­ing from them again.

Spending so much time at home meant Leonard was in my com­pany for a large part of the day. I’m get­ting used to his absence, but I still miss the lit­tle guy.

I had a bunch of ran­dom footage and I never knew what to do with it, includ­ing a few moments from the first time I let him out of quar­an­tine into the rest of the house. When he died I kept watch­ing the footage over and over again until it sort of pieced itself together into this small vignette of a kitty who lived with me for less than three months. I hope they were happy ones.

Spent nearly $500 in hard dri­ves today, up to 22 ter­abytes now.

11 months, 2 weeks ago