What I'd like to be doing right now is recording, but since I cannot, I'm blogging. I'm sick as fuck still, lazing around in my room, and as a result, I'm trying to make myself comfortable. For me this involves ice cream, and a lot of rap music. Right now I'm about 3/4 of the way through this Eminem freestyle compilation put together by DJ Jacked Beatz (whom I've never heard of either). A lot of stuff on here is pretty perfect. I've also listened to Sticky Fingaz a bunch, but I downloaded Chronic 2001 and I'm pumped about listening to that as well. Being sick sucks balls. It hurts to eat and smoke, so I feel like all I can do is listen to rap music.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
I just would like to be great,
and I'm so in love I can barely contain myself.
I'm so in love with you, it's this crazy romance
and I'm so in love with you,
but I would just like to be great,
but I don't think I'm allowed
because I don't think people know what that is anymore.
But I'd like to do it in some outgrown boots,
some dusty old shirt ripped
some cavernous roots spilling over the seams
of this desperate reach to be great,
and this wetting of being in love.
This waiting for you to return
to these tattered and ashen old hand-me-down jeans,
these crackling fingers and busted old bruises
and barely before you I'd like you to love me.
And love you for always I likely will do.
and I'm so in love I can barely contain myself.
I'm so in love with you, it's this crazy romance
and I'm so in love with you,
but I would just like to be great,
but I don't think I'm allowed
because I don't think people know what that is anymore.
But I'd like to do it in some outgrown boots,
some dusty old shirt ripped
some cavernous roots spilling over the seams
of this desperate reach to be great,
and this wetting of being in love.
This waiting for you to return
to these tattered and ashen old hand-me-down jeans,
these crackling fingers and busted old bruises
and barely before you I'd like you to love me.
And love you for always I likely will do.
One More Cup of Coffee (Supertunes)
I busted out an old mix CD today that I made whilst living on the corner of Union and Crown st. with my best friends JJ & Kelly, when we were all in our early twenties. That was when I started this blog and also the year where I started to learn what writing a song was really about. I loved living in that place with those people. We were all bursting at the seams back then, painting and writing and singing and reading and smoking native smokes by the bag, drinking Old Milwaukee by the can. We held singalongs in our kitchen where we'd all drunkenly sing 'Ask' by The Smiths, to the best of our abilities. We rarely ever went to bars. We'd have people over and we'd sit in a circle and talk about books and music.
It's fall so I'm in a very nostalgic place as always and this CD has me thinking about those times. It's a pretty good snapshot of what was going on in my head that year in terms of finding a way to properly write.
Anyway these are some notes on that disc, which is labeled, 'One More Cup of Coffee for the Road (Supertunes).'
1: Fuck Forever - The Babyshambles
I was a little obsessed with Pete Doherty around this time. A ridiculous poet on drugs and rock n' roll, I identified with him and admired his lyrical prowess. I still think this Babyshambles record is pretty underrated. Plenty of rough edges, which endear it to me, and lyrics to die for, a hint of Nirvana in there too. We used to get high and watch 'Who the Fuck is Pete Doherty?' and actually think he was awesome for stumbling around his apartment reading poetry aloud. My drummer/friend Arbeau and I would dress like him even. Him and Morrissey were both pretty big parts of how I wanted to write, and there is recorded evidence of this that's pretty embarrassing.
2: Talking New York - Bob Dylan
Obviously Dylan is an important milestone for anyone taking the craft of songwriting seriously, and this year was when I really went for it. I read that terrible book he wrote and watched all the documentaries and listened to all the albums. I loved this song feverishly, singing along perfectly in sync with the rambling hilarious lyrics, mostly spoken. I was so amused by the idea of a song being something like that, it was sort of new to me to think about it so loosely and it related more directly to the huge amount of prose writing I was doing that year.
3: My Love - Justin Timberlake ft. TI
FutureSex/Lovesounds was big in our household. We were obsessed with it a little bit, always a dance party when we'd put this on. Also watched the music videos on youtube via JJ's Wii. Such an all-around wonderful album, aged well too.
4: I'll Have a New Life - Hank Williams
I was also listening to a lot of gospel country around this time. Far from religious, I still found there to be a spot of inspiration in those old songs. And the melodies! Good lord they are something. Our house was very big on the country greats, something that also entered my life and improved it that year, beginning with a CD JJ made me of classic country songs, that deviated just enough to incorporate a Tom Waits song and 'Come Pick Me Up.'
5: Walk the Line - George Jones
This one is an odd choice as it is wholly unremarkable as a recording, but is a song written by one of my favourite writers and sung by one of my favourite singers. So it's not like it's bad but I feel like it was kind of tossed onto the mix. Tons of George Jones during that time. I remember Graham would pick me up at our place uptown in his parents car and we'd drive to the east side blasting George Jones and then get wasted at my brothers house, which I was house-sitting at the time. I loved and fully embraced the melodramatic nature of Old Possum tunes, in particular 'If Drinking Don't Kill Me, Her Memory Will.' I'd listen to those songs and drink myself into a stupor, take a gravol, pass out and go puke at work for 15 minutes before my shift. Ah, the glory days.
6: With God On Our Side (unplugged) - Bob Dylan
More Dylan. I feel like one of the things that often gets overlooked when it comes to Dylan is the melodies. Being a big melody guy myself it's that quality that endears me to the songs much more so than narratives that play out like prose. This song or 'Spanish Harlem Incident,' for instance, are melodic perfection to me. This performance of 'On Our Side,' is good but the fucking DI acoustic tone is pretty hard to deal with.
7: I Am Bound for the Promised Land - Johnny Cash
One of the American Recordings albums that I really love from Cash is 'My Mother's Hymn Book.' A straightforward acoustic recording of old hymns, most of the focus being on all the feeling and depth in Cash's voice. Still feel a certain specific joy from songs like these. There's a lot of sincerity there.
8: Talking Hard Work - Woody Guthrie
Guthrie is a deservingly revered legend. All of those songs are pure craft and with such weight and such levity simultaneously, allowing them to live forever. This song being basically a blueprint for Dylan's 'Talking New York,' among numerous others. It's hilarious spoken word, essentially, that I identified with immediately. A detailed account of a working class life, one that I live as well, though obviously not as hard, and also a humorous bit of torch song as well, tied in smartly and neatly.
9: Barrett's Privateers - Stan Rogers
We're all maritimers here, and Stan Rogers rules. This song is awesome. Kelly being a caper really is what brought this into our lives I believe. We would scream this song together on that old green torn up couch, our terrible voices carrying out the livingroom window for passersby.
10: Peaches n' Cream - Beck
Midnite Vultures is a way cool album. I've always been just outside of true Beck fandom but that album and Mellow Gold always tickled my fancy when the time is right.
11: Love This Town - Joel Plaskett
Still love this song. Plaskett was always a dude I looked up to being a songwriter from Saint John, since he's a songwriter from Dartmouth. I saw him play this song acoustic on the street in front of Backstreet records and it will always stand out to me as a highlight of live music that I've seen. La De Da is a perfect album.
12: Ballad of Ira Hayes - Johnny Cash
More JR.
13: I Love You (But You're Green) - Pete Doherty
When I heard there was going to be a solo Doherty record back in the day I thought it was going to be shit like this, and I was very excited. I still love this song very much, in all it's wistful romantic silliness. Nice melodies too. 'I was a troubled teen, who put an advert in a magazine. To the annoyance of my imaginary lover.' Picture me swooning for real. 'Oh, you, you're green. You don't know what love means.'
14: Glory Bound Train - Roy Acuff
No one needs to be told the massive importance of Roy Acuff in American music, so I'll say just that this song is so intense about the literal description of the train metaphor and also has such cool vocal interplay and I love it.
15: On the Bus Mall - The Decemberists
This song is pretty decent but 'O Valencia!' was a FUCKING TUNE. Was really into the Crane Wife, dug the literary bent.
16: One More Cup of Coffee - The White Stripes
That was a fucking band right there. Could not care less about pretty much anything Jack White has done since. I was in a two-piece punk band in high school and we obviously found them really inspiring. Didn't used to be so many two-pieces back then. I still like listening to all those records. Lots of movement and variety considering the set up. Great sounding recordings too.
That's it. Not a bad mix, really, fun to go through again. Time to get back to that old time feeling and start writing again.
It's fall so I'm in a very nostalgic place as always and this CD has me thinking about those times. It's a pretty good snapshot of what was going on in my head that year in terms of finding a way to properly write.
Anyway these are some notes on that disc, which is labeled, 'One More Cup of Coffee for the Road (Supertunes).'
1: Fuck Forever - The Babyshambles
I was a little obsessed with Pete Doherty around this time. A ridiculous poet on drugs and rock n' roll, I identified with him and admired his lyrical prowess. I still think this Babyshambles record is pretty underrated. Plenty of rough edges, which endear it to me, and lyrics to die for, a hint of Nirvana in there too. We used to get high and watch 'Who the Fuck is Pete Doherty?' and actually think he was awesome for stumbling around his apartment reading poetry aloud. My drummer/friend Arbeau and I would dress like him even. Him and Morrissey were both pretty big parts of how I wanted to write, and there is recorded evidence of this that's pretty embarrassing.
2: Talking New York - Bob Dylan
Obviously Dylan is an important milestone for anyone taking the craft of songwriting seriously, and this year was when I really went for it. I read that terrible book he wrote and watched all the documentaries and listened to all the albums. I loved this song feverishly, singing along perfectly in sync with the rambling hilarious lyrics, mostly spoken. I was so amused by the idea of a song being something like that, it was sort of new to me to think about it so loosely and it related more directly to the huge amount of prose writing I was doing that year.
3: My Love - Justin Timberlake ft. TI
FutureSex/Lovesounds was big in our household. We were obsessed with it a little bit, always a dance party when we'd put this on. Also watched the music videos on youtube via JJ's Wii. Such an all-around wonderful album, aged well too.
4: I'll Have a New Life - Hank Williams
I was also listening to a lot of gospel country around this time. Far from religious, I still found there to be a spot of inspiration in those old songs. And the melodies! Good lord they are something. Our house was very big on the country greats, something that also entered my life and improved it that year, beginning with a CD JJ made me of classic country songs, that deviated just enough to incorporate a Tom Waits song and 'Come Pick Me Up.'
5: Walk the Line - George Jones
This one is an odd choice as it is wholly unremarkable as a recording, but is a song written by one of my favourite writers and sung by one of my favourite singers. So it's not like it's bad but I feel like it was kind of tossed onto the mix. Tons of George Jones during that time. I remember Graham would pick me up at our place uptown in his parents car and we'd drive to the east side blasting George Jones and then get wasted at my brothers house, which I was house-sitting at the time. I loved and fully embraced the melodramatic nature of Old Possum tunes, in particular 'If Drinking Don't Kill Me, Her Memory Will.' I'd listen to those songs and drink myself into a stupor, take a gravol, pass out and go puke at work for 15 minutes before my shift. Ah, the glory days.
6: With God On Our Side (unplugged) - Bob Dylan
More Dylan. I feel like one of the things that often gets overlooked when it comes to Dylan is the melodies. Being a big melody guy myself it's that quality that endears me to the songs much more so than narratives that play out like prose. This song or 'Spanish Harlem Incident,' for instance, are melodic perfection to me. This performance of 'On Our Side,' is good but the fucking DI acoustic tone is pretty hard to deal with.
7: I Am Bound for the Promised Land - Johnny Cash
One of the American Recordings albums that I really love from Cash is 'My Mother's Hymn Book.' A straightforward acoustic recording of old hymns, most of the focus being on all the feeling and depth in Cash's voice. Still feel a certain specific joy from songs like these. There's a lot of sincerity there.
8: Talking Hard Work - Woody Guthrie
Guthrie is a deservingly revered legend. All of those songs are pure craft and with such weight and such levity simultaneously, allowing them to live forever. This song being basically a blueprint for Dylan's 'Talking New York,' among numerous others. It's hilarious spoken word, essentially, that I identified with immediately. A detailed account of a working class life, one that I live as well, though obviously not as hard, and also a humorous bit of torch song as well, tied in smartly and neatly.
9: Barrett's Privateers - Stan Rogers
We're all maritimers here, and Stan Rogers rules. This song is awesome. Kelly being a caper really is what brought this into our lives I believe. We would scream this song together on that old green torn up couch, our terrible voices carrying out the livingroom window for passersby.
10: Peaches n' Cream - Beck
Midnite Vultures is a way cool album. I've always been just outside of true Beck fandom but that album and Mellow Gold always tickled my fancy when the time is right.
11: Love This Town - Joel Plaskett
Still love this song. Plaskett was always a dude I looked up to being a songwriter from Saint John, since he's a songwriter from Dartmouth. I saw him play this song acoustic on the street in front of Backstreet records and it will always stand out to me as a highlight of live music that I've seen. La De Da is a perfect album.
12: Ballad of Ira Hayes - Johnny Cash
More JR.
13: I Love You (But You're Green) - Pete Doherty
When I heard there was going to be a solo Doherty record back in the day I thought it was going to be shit like this, and I was very excited. I still love this song very much, in all it's wistful romantic silliness. Nice melodies too. 'I was a troubled teen, who put an advert in a magazine. To the annoyance of my imaginary lover.' Picture me swooning for real. 'Oh, you, you're green. You don't know what love means.'
14: Glory Bound Train - Roy Acuff
No one needs to be told the massive importance of Roy Acuff in American music, so I'll say just that this song is so intense about the literal description of the train metaphor and also has such cool vocal interplay and I love it.
15: On the Bus Mall - The Decemberists
This song is pretty decent but 'O Valencia!' was a FUCKING TUNE. Was really into the Crane Wife, dug the literary bent.
16: One More Cup of Coffee - The White Stripes
That was a fucking band right there. Could not care less about pretty much anything Jack White has done since. I was in a two-piece punk band in high school and we obviously found them really inspiring. Didn't used to be so many two-pieces back then. I still like listening to all those records. Lots of movement and variety considering the set up. Great sounding recordings too.
That's it. Not a bad mix, really, fun to go through again. Time to get back to that old time feeling and start writing again.
August 23rd, 2011
(just found this post that I couldn't publish at the time for obvious reasons, thought I'd throw it up.)
Hey, it's my roommate's birthday today. That's nice.
I work at this Bistro in the maritimes, so we do the regular fare. We have some beef, pork, chicken, seafood, a vegetarian thing, you know. We also have some pizzas and pastas. We have an oversized menu and then a group of 3 or 4 sub-menus. We have a walk-in that doesn't necessarily accommodate these menus. We also have a private dining room in the back that seats 50 or so people and requires a minimum spending of a thousand dollars for usage. Our atrium seats probably a hundred or so, at capacity. We're part of an umbrella company. Our orders start with an owner, and her executive chef/owner son, down to our chef and sous-chef. At which point it's directed at the line cooks. I'm one of those dudes. Often times this chain of command doesn't necessarily fire in that direction, but it should.
I guess we're trying to make a lot of money here. That explains the motive behind most of what goes on in our restaurant. It's weird because when you read about food and the people cooking it, you want to have this kind of idea of some honour and pride behind it, because that's what makes it a shared experience between the patrons and the people preparing the food, producing the food, supplying it, designing it, etc. That's the difference between some chain restaurant serving you reheated shit and a restaurant charging you more for something better than that. Something hopefully fresh, possibly neat, and at the very least tasty. That's how people talk about it, at least. These ideas do thrive in some places, and for certain there are restaurants in our area doing these wonderful things. Knowing the farmers that supply the food, and keeping quality alive in the kitchen. But there's this shady elite of sort of middle-aged douche-bag guys that are running a lot of the restaurant industry and in my experience, they're usually putting on a front.
In the restaurant I work in everyone is obsessed with money. Even the people who don't want to be. To a certain extent this is just the reality of the industry, and you do have to be keenly aware of the money situation at all times. But there comes a point when you're sacrificing employee wages and quality and therefore turning your back on the entire concept of what you're doing. Especially when you call yourself a 'locally inspired Bistro.' In my kitchen you're witnessing lies and deceptions and cheats and just fucking cheapness. You're bending over backwards and working ridiculous hours one week, only to be given part time hours later when business is slow. The idea of a raise is almost unthinkable, or even laughable, and everyone talks about someone else behind their back. But I don't want this to be a bunch of bitching, and I'm not trying to shed negative light on the kitchen scene. So I'll tell you about last Sunday first, and try to illustrate why I love this job so much.
Saturday sucked so when I got to work in the afternoon on Sunday I was ready to be pissed off and have a terrible shift. You should really never go into a shift with that attitude because you're only fucking yourself, not whoever you're pissed at. Anyway I walked into work, put on my whites and went about finding out what work I should be doing. We had the atrium booked for a wedding with 56 people and the private room booked for a bus tour of 52, I think. At about 5pm, the kitchen was our chef and sous chef, myself and two other line cooks, so we split into teams and served the parties. Everyone assumed it was going to be something of shit show, but it wasn't. We prepped for a few hours, then cooked and plated, and it went smoothly. We were very busy in that perfect way, where everyone is working together, people are still telling jokes, and you feel satisfied with the work that you're doing.
At around 9 we all got a beer. That's how you know it's been one of the good nights. We all go out for a cigarette together some time later and everyone talks about the evening and how it was, and points out shit they thought was funny and you feel like a team. In our restaurant there's a gaping divide between front staff and kitchen staff. Sunday night was the first night where I truly felt differently about it. At about 9:30 I jumped into the dishpit and starting pumping out dishes so our dishwasher could go for a smoke break. He's one of those guys that just looks at you with this frazzled, drowning look in his eyes and states confidently, 'No thanks man, I gotta get this shit out man, blahblahblah,' so you have to do the ol, 'It's yer turn man, I don't even care, I love the pit.' type thing. Although sometimes, I truly do love the pit. It's a job completely about speed, organization, and labour, and I dig that.
I had servers in the pit on Sunday, which is another thing that never happens here. Our servers are largely untrained and unmotivated and so they quickly sink into this rut where they don't want to work, and it's hard to convince them to. But I found that with a lot of energy and enthusiasm, people are a lot more willing to do shit. So I had these two servers taking out compost and filling up glass trays and shit, and enjoying it.
After the shitstorm, servers, cooks, dishwasher dude, et. al., pile into the smoking area and chat. We have a smoke, we drink some rum, and we talk shit. Later we smoke some weed. Before I left that night I went up to the line to check on the sous-chef and see how he's doing, and he's leaning on the pass, grinning at the dance floor and all these middle-aged people in suits and dresses are dancing to Bryan Adams and he just looks at me and goes, 'They're about the throw the bouquet!'
Nice.
Hey, it's my roommate's birthday today. That's nice.
I work at this Bistro in the maritimes, so we do the regular fare. We have some beef, pork, chicken, seafood, a vegetarian thing, you know. We also have some pizzas and pastas. We have an oversized menu and then a group of 3 or 4 sub-menus. We have a walk-in that doesn't necessarily accommodate these menus. We also have a private dining room in the back that seats 50 or so people and requires a minimum spending of a thousand dollars for usage. Our atrium seats probably a hundred or so, at capacity. We're part of an umbrella company. Our orders start with an owner, and her executive chef/owner son, down to our chef and sous-chef. At which point it's directed at the line cooks. I'm one of those dudes. Often times this chain of command doesn't necessarily fire in that direction, but it should.
I guess we're trying to make a lot of money here. That explains the motive behind most of what goes on in our restaurant. It's weird because when you read about food and the people cooking it, you want to have this kind of idea of some honour and pride behind it, because that's what makes it a shared experience between the patrons and the people preparing the food, producing the food, supplying it, designing it, etc. That's the difference between some chain restaurant serving you reheated shit and a restaurant charging you more for something better than that. Something hopefully fresh, possibly neat, and at the very least tasty. That's how people talk about it, at least. These ideas do thrive in some places, and for certain there are restaurants in our area doing these wonderful things. Knowing the farmers that supply the food, and keeping quality alive in the kitchen. But there's this shady elite of sort of middle-aged douche-bag guys that are running a lot of the restaurant industry and in my experience, they're usually putting on a front.
In the restaurant I work in everyone is obsessed with money. Even the people who don't want to be. To a certain extent this is just the reality of the industry, and you do have to be keenly aware of the money situation at all times. But there comes a point when you're sacrificing employee wages and quality and therefore turning your back on the entire concept of what you're doing. Especially when you call yourself a 'locally inspired Bistro.' In my kitchen you're witnessing lies and deceptions and cheats and just fucking cheapness. You're bending over backwards and working ridiculous hours one week, only to be given part time hours later when business is slow. The idea of a raise is almost unthinkable, or even laughable, and everyone talks about someone else behind their back. But I don't want this to be a bunch of bitching, and I'm not trying to shed negative light on the kitchen scene. So I'll tell you about last Sunday first, and try to illustrate why I love this job so much.
Saturday sucked so when I got to work in the afternoon on Sunday I was ready to be pissed off and have a terrible shift. You should really never go into a shift with that attitude because you're only fucking yourself, not whoever you're pissed at. Anyway I walked into work, put on my whites and went about finding out what work I should be doing. We had the atrium booked for a wedding with 56 people and the private room booked for a bus tour of 52, I think. At about 5pm, the kitchen was our chef and sous chef, myself and two other line cooks, so we split into teams and served the parties. Everyone assumed it was going to be something of shit show, but it wasn't. We prepped for a few hours, then cooked and plated, and it went smoothly. We were very busy in that perfect way, where everyone is working together, people are still telling jokes, and you feel satisfied with the work that you're doing.
At around 9 we all got a beer. That's how you know it's been one of the good nights. We all go out for a cigarette together some time later and everyone talks about the evening and how it was, and points out shit they thought was funny and you feel like a team. In our restaurant there's a gaping divide between front staff and kitchen staff. Sunday night was the first night where I truly felt differently about it. At about 9:30 I jumped into the dishpit and starting pumping out dishes so our dishwasher could go for a smoke break. He's one of those guys that just looks at you with this frazzled, drowning look in his eyes and states confidently, 'No thanks man, I gotta get this shit out man, blahblahblah,' so you have to do the ol, 'It's yer turn man, I don't even care, I love the pit.' type thing. Although sometimes, I truly do love the pit. It's a job completely about speed, organization, and labour, and I dig that.
I had servers in the pit on Sunday, which is another thing that never happens here. Our servers are largely untrained and unmotivated and so they quickly sink into this rut where they don't want to work, and it's hard to convince them to. But I found that with a lot of energy and enthusiasm, people are a lot more willing to do shit. So I had these two servers taking out compost and filling up glass trays and shit, and enjoying it.
After the shitstorm, servers, cooks, dishwasher dude, et. al., pile into the smoking area and chat. We have a smoke, we drink some rum, and we talk shit. Later we smoke some weed. Before I left that night I went up to the line to check on the sous-chef and see how he's doing, and he's leaning on the pass, grinning at the dance floor and all these middle-aged people in suits and dresses are dancing to Bryan Adams and he just looks at me and goes, 'They're about the throw the bouquet!'
Nice.
Friday, September 20, 2013
I have nothing interesting to say, but I'm watching Chewed Up again and drinking this leftover bagged wine at my old man's new house, and everything is weird and I feel like these new glasses make me look like a completely different person. In other words, I have no real problems, I'm just being a whiny bitch because I'm in Grand Bay and nothing about it is interesting. All these fucking vinyl siding fucking houses and they're disgusting. But I don't mean to be so negative.
On the upswing my old man's house is pretty awesome, in a way. It's weird that this has happened, but actually it's completely normal and makes all the sense in the world, it was a reasonable decision and I identify with it entirely. But the thing about this place is that it is completely Saint John. It has that Saint John stale cigarette smell, the assorted old furniture look and feel and smell, and there's bologna in the fridge and coolaid, and basically it's this little piece of north end SJ tucked into the main strip of fucking Grand Bay. It's very suiting. I feel very normal here, because it could easily be mistaken for any apartment I've lived in, except for the huge picture of BIG smoking a blunt.
I sold my VOX today. It's just a practice amp but it's got tubes in it and it has a lot of different functions and capabilities and I'm sad now to have lost it. I needed to because I desperately need to go to Halifax. That is a lie actually, but I should go to Halifax and find some work and go in the studio n all that. But it's funny I haven't used that amp in a ridiculously long time and I didn't care about it at all until it was sitting on the counter at Digital World today and I remembered the good times.
The thing is, the first proper physically released album I ever made, Sam Hill, all the electric tone on it came from that little amp, which I bought at a pawn shop around the corner from the apartment where I lived with a girl that I loved. Someone elegantly pointed out to me recently that I am a sap and she is correct. I missed the amp immediately, because it came into my life at a time that I needed it and it was perfect for what I needed it for. But maybe it's duty was to help create a good next portion of my life. Or maybe I should stop being a dink and let it go, it's just a fucking amp and I really don't need it anymore.
That's life though. Now back to my shitty wine and hangin with the ol guy.
On the upswing my old man's house is pretty awesome, in a way. It's weird that this has happened, but actually it's completely normal and makes all the sense in the world, it was a reasonable decision and I identify with it entirely. But the thing about this place is that it is completely Saint John. It has that Saint John stale cigarette smell, the assorted old furniture look and feel and smell, and there's bologna in the fridge and coolaid, and basically it's this little piece of north end SJ tucked into the main strip of fucking Grand Bay. It's very suiting. I feel very normal here, because it could easily be mistaken for any apartment I've lived in, except for the huge picture of BIG smoking a blunt.
I sold my VOX today. It's just a practice amp but it's got tubes in it and it has a lot of different functions and capabilities and I'm sad now to have lost it. I needed to because I desperately need to go to Halifax. That is a lie actually, but I should go to Halifax and find some work and go in the studio n all that. But it's funny I haven't used that amp in a ridiculously long time and I didn't care about it at all until it was sitting on the counter at Digital World today and I remembered the good times.
The thing is, the first proper physically released album I ever made, Sam Hill, all the electric tone on it came from that little amp, which I bought at a pawn shop around the corner from the apartment where I lived with a girl that I loved. Someone elegantly pointed out to me recently that I am a sap and she is correct. I missed the amp immediately, because it came into my life at a time that I needed it and it was perfect for what I needed it for. But maybe it's duty was to help create a good next portion of my life. Or maybe I should stop being a dink and let it go, it's just a fucking amp and I really don't need it anymore.
That's life though. Now back to my shitty wine and hangin with the ol guy.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Fall is here, pass the beer.
Once again it's been an absurd amount of time since I last posted on this blog, but gee whiz I love that I can still come on here ever once in a while and find a little masturbatory portrait of some small slice of my life I've half-forgotten. I'm home again and things are very different. The folks are split, the weather is cold, and I am tired and drinkin too much.
For now I have the house to myself for a few days and enough terrible wine to do me. And today I got a fresh pack of smokes so it can't be all bad now can it?
The Affordable Art tour is over, and it's hard to call it a success but it's impossible to call it a failure. We came back with nothing, granted, but we sold a lot of cd's, met some great people and saw some places we hadn't seen. Quebec was generally awesome and exciting and fun and it's hard to imagine now why I don't live there. Beautiful women and hospitable french people abound, and people actual appreciate our craft, as opposed to everywhere else I've played where far too often you are treated like a fucking hobbyist. Don't mean to be a negative nelly but if you're involved in the business I'm sure you've been reading articles about all the terrible mistakes venues are making these days.
Ontario fucked us completely, but we had a great time in Guelph, Belfountain and Peterborough. Had some shows cancel on us so we didn't get to play a few towns that I wanted to visit. Nonetheless, I'm glad we went, I'm glad we went camping in rural Kingston and got hammered by a weak fire and tried to climb a tree between texts to a woman that don't want me.
Trask churned out quite a few good tunes during the tour, and I clocked a few myself. Car full of girl problems for two months probly isn't the healthiest thing, but it ended and we're safe and sound in the maritimes. Did another few Precious Memories shows that were a great deal of fun, and whilst in Halifax I did some recording with Adam Mowery on that magic 4-track of his, got Garrett Mason and Marc Doucet to play on it. Hoping to get Rheo and Hallett on that shit next week.
Gotta find some work for fuck sake, figure out a girl thing hopefully. Right now I'm listening to old tapes and getting a lil tipsy. Man I used to fucking suck at singing, I hope that's not still the case.
For now I have the house to myself for a few days and enough terrible wine to do me. And today I got a fresh pack of smokes so it can't be all bad now can it?
The Affordable Art tour is over, and it's hard to call it a success but it's impossible to call it a failure. We came back with nothing, granted, but we sold a lot of cd's, met some great people and saw some places we hadn't seen. Quebec was generally awesome and exciting and fun and it's hard to imagine now why I don't live there. Beautiful women and hospitable french people abound, and people actual appreciate our craft, as opposed to everywhere else I've played where far too often you are treated like a fucking hobbyist. Don't mean to be a negative nelly but if you're involved in the business I'm sure you've been reading articles about all the terrible mistakes venues are making these days.
Ontario fucked us completely, but we had a great time in Guelph, Belfountain and Peterborough. Had some shows cancel on us so we didn't get to play a few towns that I wanted to visit. Nonetheless, I'm glad we went, I'm glad we went camping in rural Kingston and got hammered by a weak fire and tried to climb a tree between texts to a woman that don't want me.
Trask churned out quite a few good tunes during the tour, and I clocked a few myself. Car full of girl problems for two months probly isn't the healthiest thing, but it ended and we're safe and sound in the maritimes. Did another few Precious Memories shows that were a great deal of fun, and whilst in Halifax I did some recording with Adam Mowery on that magic 4-track of his, got Garrett Mason and Marc Doucet to play on it. Hoping to get Rheo and Hallett on that shit next week.
Gotta find some work for fuck sake, figure out a girl thing hopefully. Right now I'm listening to old tapes and getting a lil tipsy. Man I used to fucking suck at singing, I hope that's not still the case.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
PRRTY TIME
I have this thing I've noticed in recent months where I've slipped into a whole other post-drug mindset. I've been over the drug experience for a while, hung onto weed mostly for the social and habitual aspects that I cared for on some level, but now drugs actually make me uncomfortable, and to a certain extent I don't like being around them. And I find that I use myself as a cautionary tale, which is borderline hilarious since I've always so adamantly supported recreational drug use. It's mainly reserved for what potheads refer to as 'real drugs,' obviously, like coke, which I particularly dislike, but I'm starting to kind of loathe MDMA/Ecstacy as well. I don't like the upperclass, free love, me me me aspect of it, and I think it's dangerous and scary, and I recently found out that it's responsible for an alarming amount of forest destruction, which is mainly just another reason to find it to be generally deplorable. And I've noticed a lot of negative effects that drugs have had on me, and I sort of blame my drug use partially for some of my depression and anxiety problems. Second-hand weed smoke makes me uncomfortable and I can't tell if it's chemical or if it's just in my head, like maybe the smell puts me in a place that I recall being anxiety-ridden. And when I watch documentaries about drugs now, watching people tripping actually makes me feel high and anxious, and I get sweaty palms and such.
I just really dislike self-indulgence I think. I think a little bit of self-indulgence is an important ingredient in art, but I think that true art is really just a bunch of people sharing, which I think renders the self-indulgence morally upright (to a point). When it comes to people taking Molly and partying their ass off as often as possible because of how amazing it makes them feel I find that to be hollow and sad. I think that's the root of my disdain for the hippie generation, and much of the art world, as far as people like Andy Warhol or Jim Morrison are concerned. You can make arguments for them as artists but I'd argue that their focus was more on self-indulgence, which is why I don't particularly like their art. (This is moreso about Morrison; Warhol had some pretty neat stuff!)
I can still see an argument for hallucinagens as a way to 'expand your mind' so to speak, but I think the peace found with that is false. I think it's interesting to stretch your perception enough to allow yourself to see everyday visuals as newly stimulating and beautiful, but I also think you can achieve that in a way that isn't detrimental to your over-all mindstate, which I think it's clear that things like acid do. In my experience it's been really difficult and enriching trying to find peace and seeing every day as beautiful, and I partly resent the idea of drugs as a shortcut. I think it's small-minded. And I don't like party culture. I think it's a subculture full of selfishness, overdoses, poor decisions, rape and excuses.
That being said drugs should still be legalized. For all the same obvious reasons.
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