aka
"An Inconvenient Truth"
(Alycia, watch this movie if you haven't already)
Last night I watched the documentary "An Inconvenient Truth". The film was more or less footage of Al Gore giving a slide show presentation about the dangers of global warming, interjected with footage of him giving speeches, conducting research and doing field work. I was quite looking forward to this film, hoping that it would present the issue in a very concise, informative, and professional manner. After having seen it though, I felt sold very very short.
I agreed with most all of the points brought up in the film, and believe strongly in the need for the global warming problem to be seriously addressed and dealt with, but honestly, this film probably was detrimental to the cause.
There are two reasons that I think this:
First off, the way in which information was presented was done in an overtly shocking way: scary images of glaciers receding; graphs that showed no numbers, only dramatically bold red lines steadily raising higher and higher, floods, droughts, hurricanes. Just shock images. The amount of information actually presented was minimal. Also, a lot of the information they were giving was based mostly on speculation, and not neccecarily fact. This struck me as the kind of tactic that their opposition would take. Now, I can understand why they'd want to do that. They're trying to reach a very very broad audience, and let them know there is a growing problem. Most people wouldn't look at statistics and absorb it, but when you see a flooded city, it has a more lasting impression. So, I guess this was cleverly strategic.
But the biggest vice I had with this, is the entire film was presented in a very bitter and personal manner from Gore's point of view. Even though it had a ruse of being an environmental exposé, it had overtly political overtones. Now don't get me wrong, I realise this is a very heated political issue, but Gore turned it into a bitter reprieve of the 2000 Presidential Election. He seems to try and imply that had he "fairly" won the election, that global warming would have ceased. That as president, he would have single handedly saved the world. Now I don't doubt that he would have tried to make some changes that Bush obviously isn't doing, but given his present situation, it's very very easy for Gore to talk big, and not have to worry about following through.
The film just wreaked of self righteousness. It made me very dissapointed in Al Gore. He always struck me as so respectable, but now he just seems really bitter and childis. Given, what happened to him was pretty unfair, but the entire film was just an attempt to glorify himself.
Yet, I'm still torn. The issue he's trying to help is very heated, and it's good of him to try, but still, it just doesn't sit well with me. I actually found watching it incredibly discouraging. I seriously doubt there are actually fool proof solutions to fix what we've already done. It makes me more compelled to stop caring, and start engaging in more self destructive behaviour. Oh well. I sleep well thinking that when we're done killing ourselves off with our own behaviour, the plates will turn over, and the only trace of human's will be a thin layer of carbon in some sediment deep below the surface of the earth.
CHEERS!
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Adventures in house sitting:
So this week I have had the good fortune of being asked to house sit a huge home in a swanky part of College Heights. It's a pretty fun gig. The house is very nice, and there are three small and incredibly energetic lap dogs to keep me company. Also, these two rodents from somewhere in South America that look like hamsters with long, weird tails. Their tails can detatch--much the same way that many reptile's tails can--as a defense mechanism if they're being attacked. SO NEAT.
I don't know why this family chose me as their house sitter. I'm scared when left alone in my own house, let alone, a strange one. This house is very creaky. I keep thinking I hear someone walking around, and then panic, and realise it's just the dogs running around. I should know by now that if ANYONE strange were in the house, the dogs would start freaking out and barking hysterically, like they always do when someone is near the house. But, as is my nature, I just assumed otherwise, and use it as an excuse to stealthily wander around the house holding a large blunt object..... The peruvian rodents often make noises that could be confused as people, and it's very creepy as well.
The last two days I've managed to spend minimal amounts of time alone in the house, either by leaving to run errands, or bringing Josh here to jam and destroy the house's kitchen. Last night, we spent all day grocery shopping for and preparing a ridiculously huge attempt at a Japanese dinner. It involved sushi, salad, tofu, and tempura that tasted exactly like deep friend prawns from Chinese resteraunts. Despite our combined lack of culinary skills, we managed to not burn the house down, and the dinner was pretty good. I have a lot of left over sushi.
The greatest thing about getting to house sit is being able to not have to drive half an hour to do anything in town. Everything is so accessable! AND THERE'S A GARAGE FOR MY CAR! So it doesn't get freezing cold and I don't have to scrape ice off the windsheild and freeze to death for 20 minutes before my heater decides to start expelling heat. It's very convenient. I'm pretty much being spoiled. I'm being paid cold hard cash to stay in a swanky hotel with a some dogs, hamsters with tails, and a few goldfish. All that, minus my crippling parinoia, is a pretty damned good deal, if I do say so myself.
One of the dogs is so incredibly homely that it's sad. She's a sweet dog. Really sweet! She's a puppy, and her name is Lily. Her fur is really soft, and she's a nice color, sort of a light brown-blonde color, with hints of orange, and she's really playful! Always running around, sniffing things, and trying to coax me into playing with her. But she has this horrible underbite, so she always looks incredibly incredibly angry, and when you pet her, her eyes roll back and it looks like she's going into some sort of a seizure. SO SCARY. But she's nice. I guess...I'm sort of afraid of her. I'm actually kind of glad that the owner asked me to make her sleep in a cage...
Anyway, so I've got three more days to go before the family returns. So far I haven't broken anything, or spilled anything that will leave horrible stains on their probably insanely expensive furniture. I'll knock on wood, in the mean time, just to play it safe haha.
This will be such a weird week when it finally ends though. House sitting ends on the 31st, but then I am attending Mike's New Year's shin-dig. So, in total, I will have spent 6 strait days away from my own home. I also think I may have forgotten to mention to my dad that I am house sitting. I don't know how I managed to do this, but I have a feeling he's going to be really pissed off when I come home. I guess we'll see. I could make a quick day trip home I guess, but I'd really prefer to save the fuel....oh well!
I don't know why this family chose me as their house sitter. I'm scared when left alone in my own house, let alone, a strange one. This house is very creaky. I keep thinking I hear someone walking around, and then panic, and realise it's just the dogs running around. I should know by now that if ANYONE strange were in the house, the dogs would start freaking out and barking hysterically, like they always do when someone is near the house. But, as is my nature, I just assumed otherwise, and use it as an excuse to stealthily wander around the house holding a large blunt object..... The peruvian rodents often make noises that could be confused as people, and it's very creepy as well.
The last two days I've managed to spend minimal amounts of time alone in the house, either by leaving to run errands, or bringing Josh here to jam and destroy the house's kitchen. Last night, we spent all day grocery shopping for and preparing a ridiculously huge attempt at a Japanese dinner. It involved sushi, salad, tofu, and tempura that tasted exactly like deep friend prawns from Chinese resteraunts. Despite our combined lack of culinary skills, we managed to not burn the house down, and the dinner was pretty good. I have a lot of left over sushi.
The greatest thing about getting to house sit is being able to not have to drive half an hour to do anything in town. Everything is so accessable! AND THERE'S A GARAGE FOR MY CAR! So it doesn't get freezing cold and I don't have to scrape ice off the windsheild and freeze to death for 20 minutes before my heater decides to start expelling heat. It's very convenient. I'm pretty much being spoiled. I'm being paid cold hard cash to stay in a swanky hotel with a some dogs, hamsters with tails, and a few goldfish. All that, minus my crippling parinoia, is a pretty damned good deal, if I do say so myself.
One of the dogs is so incredibly homely that it's sad. She's a sweet dog. Really sweet! She's a puppy, and her name is Lily. Her fur is really soft, and she's a nice color, sort of a light brown-blonde color, with hints of orange, and she's really playful! Always running around, sniffing things, and trying to coax me into playing with her. But she has this horrible underbite, so she always looks incredibly incredibly angry, and when you pet her, her eyes roll back and it looks like she's going into some sort of a seizure. SO SCARY. But she's nice. I guess...I'm sort of afraid of her. I'm actually kind of glad that the owner asked me to make her sleep in a cage...
Anyway, so I've got three more days to go before the family returns. So far I haven't broken anything, or spilled anything that will leave horrible stains on their probably insanely expensive furniture. I'll knock on wood, in the mean time, just to play it safe haha.
This will be such a weird week when it finally ends though. House sitting ends on the 31st, but then I am attending Mike's New Year's shin-dig. So, in total, I will have spent 6 strait days away from my own home. I also think I may have forgotten to mention to my dad that I am house sitting. I don't know how I managed to do this, but I have a feeling he's going to be really pissed off when I come home. I guess we'll see. I could make a quick day trip home I guess, but I'd really prefer to save the fuel....oh well!
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Words of Wisdom:
My father is a brilliant, yet misunderstood man. Yesterday afternoon, he decided to sit me down, and have a very important discussion with me.
The topic: Romanians.
"That Josh guy seems like a really nice kid. He looks like a gypsy, it's cool. I like gypsies. You guys seem to have a lot of fun together too, and you probably will for a few years...until one day you'll come home and start trying to hide out in the woodshed because he's trying to stab you to death. Those Romanians all go crazy. Seriously, I would not make this up."
The topic: Romanians.
"That Josh guy seems like a really nice kid. He looks like a gypsy, it's cool. I like gypsies. You guys seem to have a lot of fun together too, and you probably will for a few years...until one day you'll come home and start trying to hide out in the woodshed because he's trying to stab you to death. Those Romanians all go crazy. Seriously, I would not make this up."
Friday, December 22, 2006
Farewell, Tapedeck! We hardly knew ye....!
Continuing with my recent trend of modernisation, I'm finally upgrading my car's tapedeck to a CD player. This is all thanks to a most generous donation from one Victor Sandu. I'm actually really excited to not have to fumble with tapes while driving anymore, but I do have one regret: I never asked Andrew Kurjata to make me a mixtape. I'm sure it would have been epic, but now I have no convenient medium in which to play ANY mixtapes. How sad. I'll become such a hypocrite too, because I know I'll continue to create and dispense mixtapes to all of my friends, despite my own inability to actually play any tapes conveniently.
I guess I shouldn't count all my chickens yet, I still have to take my tape deck out, and figure out how to install the damned thing. But once that happens...it will be glorious. I'll pump out "The Romantic Classics: Vol. 3 + 4" at full volume. With all my windows rolled down. Really shake up the neighbourhood. It'll be great.
I'll probably try and hook that up tomorrow morning, sometime after I go cut down and decorate a Christmas tree. YAY!
I guess I shouldn't count all my chickens yet, I still have to take my tape deck out, and figure out how to install the damned thing. But once that happens...it will be glorious. I'll pump out "The Romantic Classics: Vol. 3 + 4" at full volume. With all my windows rolled down. Really shake up the neighbourhood. It'll be great.
I'll probably try and hook that up tomorrow morning, sometime after I go cut down and decorate a Christmas tree. YAY!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Goodbye Blue Sky....
So it's finally happened. My parents got sick of having to guess where I am half the time (though they hardly have to guess, really) and bought me a cell phone. It's small, it flips open, and I'm already loathing its existance. I was so proud of myself for being able to hold out on having one for as long as I have. Oh well.
I should stop complaining though, I'm sure it'll be somewhat handy. Guess we'll see.
I should stop complaining though, I'm sure it'll be somewhat handy. Guess we'll see.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Habits
I have a lot of things I easily get used to.
For example, I get used to driving a car that is standard. I'm so used to it, that when I drive a car that isn't manual, I'm constantly still pushing for the clutch and reaching for the gear shift. Sometimes I get worried when I can't find it, and convince myself for short periods of time that I'm going to stall and cause an accident. This usually passes when I realise that I am an idiot.
Another example: For the last two and a half years, I've taught the same children in a house in college heights. At the same time, for the same rate. And every week, once their lessons is complete, I stand in the doorway, and chat with the student's charming mother. I got really used to setting my guitar upright, in it's case, and it staying, upright, in its case, while I chat and tie my shoelaces. It balanced, perfectly. My system was flawless. But, being a genius and forgetting to have my guitar with me today, I borrowed one and commenced with my regular teaching routine. First, the youngist, who meddles with the bass and is currently mastering the song "Hysteria" by Muse, then the oldest, who is currently working on getting John Frusciante's timing down on "I Could Have Lied"
And, like always, I stood in the doorway, tying my shoes, talking to my oldest student, and his mom. I rest my borrowed guitar, in it's case, locked up tight and safe, upright, and I expected it to stand, perfectly balanced, like always. Old Faithful, as it seemed. Til I hear a loud crash, and see the guitar, in case, laying flat, face down.
Okay. Shit. I raise an eyebrow, sigh in discontent and reassure myself that this guitar has gone through worse, and that the case is solid. It's well protected.
Til I get to my next students house, whip the guitar out, start playing a G scale, and realise the A is terribly flat. Upon closer inspection, I notice the neck has a huge crack in it. Right around the 3-4 frets. It curved over the back, along the rounded edge of the previously smooth neck.
Okay. Shit. I raise both my eyebrows and stare, in horror, at what I've managed to do to my friend's beautiful guitar.
And that wasn't even the worst of the bad news I had to break to someone today. Can you tell it's a Monday?
The weekend was eventful though. I bought a new camera. By new I mean its from the middle 60's. A Minolta 7s. It so wonderfully old, heavy, and possibly useless. Though I read some reviews on the internet. Also, Grace and I made a gingerbread house, bought nick-nacks in Value Village, and spent the better part of our Sunday afternoon entertained by the endlessly entertaining Gordon Lucas. Good times were had. We learned a lot about cameras, photography, the woman's right's movement, and his theories on how Jew's funded the holocaust. It was quite a day.
Also, one other thing I've gotten used to: getting random sample packages from the Body Shop every year for Christmas from ALL of my guitar students. I have enough creams, salves, body washes, loufa's, and soups to last me for years to come. It's great...!
For example, I get used to driving a car that is standard. I'm so used to it, that when I drive a car that isn't manual, I'm constantly still pushing for the clutch and reaching for the gear shift. Sometimes I get worried when I can't find it, and convince myself for short periods of time that I'm going to stall and cause an accident. This usually passes when I realise that I am an idiot.
Another example: For the last two and a half years, I've taught the same children in a house in college heights. At the same time, for the same rate. And every week, once their lessons is complete, I stand in the doorway, and chat with the student's charming mother. I got really used to setting my guitar upright, in it's case, and it staying, upright, in its case, while I chat and tie my shoelaces. It balanced, perfectly. My system was flawless. But, being a genius and forgetting to have my guitar with me today, I borrowed one and commenced with my regular teaching routine. First, the youngist, who meddles with the bass and is currently mastering the song "Hysteria" by Muse, then the oldest, who is currently working on getting John Frusciante's timing down on "I Could Have Lied"
And, like always, I stood in the doorway, tying my shoes, talking to my oldest student, and his mom. I rest my borrowed guitar, in it's case, locked up tight and safe, upright, and I expected it to stand, perfectly balanced, like always. Old Faithful, as it seemed. Til I hear a loud crash, and see the guitar, in case, laying flat, face down.
Okay. Shit. I raise an eyebrow, sigh in discontent and reassure myself that this guitar has gone through worse, and that the case is solid. It's well protected.
Til I get to my next students house, whip the guitar out, start playing a G scale, and realise the A is terribly flat. Upon closer inspection, I notice the neck has a huge crack in it. Right around the 3-4 frets. It curved over the back, along the rounded edge of the previously smooth neck.
Okay. Shit. I raise both my eyebrows and stare, in horror, at what I've managed to do to my friend's beautiful guitar.
And that wasn't even the worst of the bad news I had to break to someone today. Can you tell it's a Monday?
The weekend was eventful though. I bought a new camera. By new I mean its from the middle 60's. A Minolta 7s. It so wonderfully old, heavy, and possibly useless. Though I read some reviews on the internet. Also, Grace and I made a gingerbread house, bought nick-nacks in Value Village, and spent the better part of our Sunday afternoon entertained by the endlessly entertaining Gordon Lucas. Good times were had. We learned a lot about cameras, photography, the woman's right's movement, and his theories on how Jew's funded the holocaust. It was quite a day.
Also, one other thing I've gotten used to: getting random sample packages from the Body Shop every year for Christmas from ALL of my guitar students. I have enough creams, salves, body washes, loufa's, and soups to last me for years to come. It's great...!
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
For Matilda:
This post won't make much sense.
I thought I should inform all of my readers of something:
Right now, in Sweden and various other Scandinavian counties, they are celebrating St. Lucia day. St. Lucia is an Italian saint. She is so popular that she isn't celebrated with nearly as much zeal in Italy. The Scandanavians apparenty love her though. To commemorate this day, I have written an essay about St. Lucia day with information stolen from Wikipedia.
Dec 13th marks St. Lucia day. It coincides with Advent, which marks the beginning of the Christmas Season. St Lucia day dates back to before the reformation (1540), when Sweden was still a predominantly Catholic country. At that time, many saints' days were celebrated, but St. Lucia was one of the few that continued to be even into modern day. It is said that St. Lucia day falls on the longest night of the year according to the Julian Calendar. This may attest to the celebrations longevity in Nordic countries, where the long nights would be especially noticable.
This date is marked by a ceremony in which the eldest girl in a family walks with a crown of candles ahead of a procession girls dressed in angelic white dresses, holding candles, and parading around with boys who are carrying stars on big sticks. I don't know what the significance is, I think it has to do with St. Lucia surviving not only a famine but A FIRE? Truely Amazing. The women sing non-Christian Christmas songs about St Lucia overcoming darkness or something. (NEAT FACT: the original Italian lyrics were really depictions of beautiful Italian scenery.) Then everyone drinks, and shows up to school tanked.
In Italy, St. Lucia is a bringer of gifts. She provides gifts to good children, and coal to naughty children (sound familliar?) But children aren't allowed to see her bringing them gifts, or she'll blow ashes in their eyes BLINDING THEM SO SHE CAN ESCAPE. In exchange, children are supposed to leave her sandwhiches, and also sugar or flour for her mule, which helps her carry her gifts to the children's homes.
I hope everyone has become well versed in St. Lucia day.
I remember how I spent St. Lucia day last year. It involved eating swedish chocolate and rehersing the Nutcracker with Matilda. Dearest Matilda, how lonely and awkward every symphony rehersal is without you. In fact, pretty much every symphony function I attend is just painfully strange now because I just sit by myself, unless Jordan decides to pester me and then he laughs at how awkward I am and then points my awkwardness out to other people, which in turn just ups the awkward quotient. Not that this doesn't happen in other social situations (pretty much every social situation EVER) but at least with Matilda present, my tension was eased always eased.
I hope you had a Happy St. Lucia Day you Swedish fiend!!
I thought I should inform all of my readers of something:
Right now, in Sweden and various other Scandinavian counties, they are celebrating St. Lucia day. St. Lucia is an Italian saint. She is so popular that she isn't celebrated with nearly as much zeal in Italy. The Scandanavians apparenty love her though. To commemorate this day, I have written an essay about St. Lucia day with information stolen from Wikipedia.
Dec 13th marks St. Lucia day. It coincides with Advent, which marks the beginning of the Christmas Season. St Lucia day dates back to before the reformation (1540), when Sweden was still a predominantly Catholic country. At that time, many saints' days were celebrated, but St. Lucia was one of the few that continued to be even into modern day. It is said that St. Lucia day falls on the longest night of the year according to the Julian Calendar. This may attest to the celebrations longevity in Nordic countries, where the long nights would be especially noticable.
This date is marked by a ceremony in which the eldest girl in a family walks with a crown of candles ahead of a procession girls dressed in angelic white dresses, holding candles, and parading around with boys who are carrying stars on big sticks. I don't know what the significance is, I think it has to do with St. Lucia surviving not only a famine but A FIRE? Truely Amazing. The women sing non-Christian Christmas songs about St Lucia overcoming darkness or something. (NEAT FACT: the original Italian lyrics were really depictions of beautiful Italian scenery.) Then everyone drinks, and shows up to school tanked.
In Italy, St. Lucia is a bringer of gifts. She provides gifts to good children, and coal to naughty children (sound familliar?) But children aren't allowed to see her bringing them gifts, or she'll blow ashes in their eyes BLINDING THEM SO SHE CAN ESCAPE. In exchange, children are supposed to leave her sandwhiches, and also sugar or flour for her mule, which helps her carry her gifts to the children's homes.
I hope everyone has become well versed in St. Lucia day.
I remember how I spent St. Lucia day last year. It involved eating swedish chocolate and rehersing the Nutcracker with Matilda. Dearest Matilda, how lonely and awkward every symphony rehersal is without you. In fact, pretty much every symphony function I attend is just painfully strange now because I just sit by myself, unless Jordan decides to pester me and then he laughs at how awkward I am and then points my awkwardness out to other people, which in turn just ups the awkward quotient. Not that this doesn't happen in other social situations (pretty much every social situation EVER) but at least with Matilda present, my tension was eased always eased.
I hope you had a Happy St. Lucia Day you Swedish fiend!!
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Am I doomed...? Survery Says.......
I'm pretty sure I'm going to die a horrible icy death alone on the highway this winter. I've probably mentioned it before, but I'm getting more and more sure of it every day. After having WAY too close a call tonight on my drive home, I'm pretty much on my last straw. One more near accident, and I'm not leaving my basement til spring. Hopefully I'll get visitors, but I would completely understand getting none. It's a risky drive, SPARE YOURSELVES, SERIOUSLY!!
Saturday, December 09, 2006
I think I can hear alien invaders....
...they're walking on my deck. And I'm not joking haha. I hear the deck creaking and it's got me a little scared. Odds are it's a deer walking on the deck. We've had that happen before. I hate when this happens though, I'm going to be parinoid all night. In a fit of fear, I've jammed a chair under the door handle, and I'm not leaving the basement room until I'm sure it's safe. It doesn't help that I'm the only one in the house who's awake, and I don't want to bother alerting my family over a false alarm caused by my ridiculous parinoia....
That would be pretty embarassing.
So today was very eventful! I made a poster for an upcoming show (attendance is manditory if you are reading this) and I am quite pleased with the results! Then I had an interesting piano lesson. Then my night was topped off by enjoying a great date with my beloved wife, Chantal.
Our evening started by me picking her up from work, from which I bought some "veggie" somosas (they were beef, and I nearly swallowed a huge bite of one, but it tasted sick, and I realised it was wrong, so I spat it out and they gave me new, real vegetable ones). Then we proceeded to the new record shop, Meow Records, downtown. We saw Cal and his parents, and had a nice chat with them. They also had a lot of Sufjan Stevens CD's, and vinyl copies of such great hit records as "The Korean Orphan Choir Tours!" A must have, if I do say so myself.
Then we went to Denny's, and had delicious greasy food, and laughed so much at everything that I'm pretty sure everyone withen a four table radius thought we were high. Plus we were really hungry, and ordered meals that would satisfy even the greatest affliction of the munchies.
So after getting in an arguement with a confused waitress who couldn't do simple subtraction in her head, we went to the mall, where we meandered, talked to Trent, bought a Sufjan Stevens' CD, and tried in vain to find Christmas presents for loved ones. This proved fruitless, so we left to go get coffee and then drove to Candycane Lane to look at pretty lights.
The lights were uneventful, so we decided we'd drive downtown and look at hookers because we were out of fun ideas.
This was a bad idea.
We turned on Ferry, and were headed downtown, and ahead of me, I see nothing other than a road block.
Normally, no big deal. Save for two things:
One, my N wasn't displayed. I figure, no big deal, I mean, they'll maybe fine me.
But....
My licence is not really presentable, for obvious reasons.
So we pull up to the cop, roll down my window, and she starts talking to me, asking if I'd been drinking, to see my licence, the usual.
Naomi: Well...m-m-my wallet got stolen a few days ago, and I lost my lisence in the process...
Run of the mill Traffic Cop: why haven't you replaced it?
Naomi: Not enough hours in the day
RotMTC: It's a $138 fine vs. $75 to replace it, you realise?
Naomi: Yes ma'am.
So she asks for my registration, to check if I have an actual licence, and we pull off to the side, to await my inevitable judgement. After what felt like an eternity, she comes back, hands me my registration, and says: "you get to where ever you're going, put your N up, and then get your damned licence as soon as you can."
Biggest releif of my life. Needless to say, first thing on Monday, I'm getting my licence replaced haha.
So Tel and I drove around more, then proceeded to her house to watch hilarious Film 12 projects, and listen to silly punk bands on myspace. Then I drove home, at chinese food, and am now sitting in the basement, listening to "Greeting from Michigan"
But, I hear things outside. I can't sleep, and I'm afraid. I have two performances tomorrow too! I need sleep tonight, so I can get up early tomorrow and practise music.
I think I'll just sit alone, afraid, and write a song. Maybe my sappy sad music will scare off any potential attackers. I'm counting on it.
On a side note, why aren't simple math skills a requirement to work at Denny's? honestly, 24 - 9 = 15. Simple. (I ordered $9 worth of food, had only a $20, and two toonies, I wanted to get rid of my coins, so gave her my $20 and the two toonies, in the hopes of getting $15 in change, so I would have bills to put in the bank...that makes sense, right?) I think so...Very simple. Not to the waitress, though, who somehow thought it equalled me owing her $5. After me trying to explain it to her, I just gave her a $20, and asked for my change. Needless to say, she recieved a small tip. Mostly because I'm cheap.
Okay, upon rereading that, it is confusing, but my point still stands.
I also need sleep.
But I am still refusing to go upstairs.
This is getting confusing. Wish me luck....
That would be pretty embarassing.
So today was very eventful! I made a poster for an upcoming show (attendance is manditory if you are reading this) and I am quite pleased with the results! Then I had an interesting piano lesson. Then my night was topped off by enjoying a great date with my beloved wife, Chantal.
Our evening started by me picking her up from work, from which I bought some "veggie" somosas (they were beef, and I nearly swallowed a huge bite of one, but it tasted sick, and I realised it was wrong, so I spat it out and they gave me new, real vegetable ones). Then we proceeded to the new record shop, Meow Records, downtown. We saw Cal and his parents, and had a nice chat with them. They also had a lot of Sufjan Stevens CD's, and vinyl copies of such great hit records as "The Korean Orphan Choir Tours!" A must have, if I do say so myself.
Then we went to Denny's, and had delicious greasy food, and laughed so much at everything that I'm pretty sure everyone withen a four table radius thought we were high. Plus we were really hungry, and ordered meals that would satisfy even the greatest affliction of the munchies.
So after getting in an arguement with a confused waitress who couldn't do simple subtraction in her head, we went to the mall, where we meandered, talked to Trent, bought a Sufjan Stevens' CD, and tried in vain to find Christmas presents for loved ones. This proved fruitless, so we left to go get coffee and then drove to Candycane Lane to look at pretty lights.
The lights were uneventful, so we decided we'd drive downtown and look at hookers because we were out of fun ideas.
This was a bad idea.
We turned on Ferry, and were headed downtown, and ahead of me, I see nothing other than a road block.
Normally, no big deal. Save for two things:
One, my N wasn't displayed. I figure, no big deal, I mean, they'll maybe fine me.
But....
My licence is not really presentable, for obvious reasons.
So we pull up to the cop, roll down my window, and she starts talking to me, asking if I'd been drinking, to see my licence, the usual.
Naomi: Well...m-m-my wallet got stolen a few days ago, and I lost my lisence in the process...
Run of the mill Traffic Cop: why haven't you replaced it?
Naomi: Not enough hours in the day
RotMTC: It's a $138 fine vs. $75 to replace it, you realise?
Naomi: Yes ma'am.
So she asks for my registration, to check if I have an actual licence, and we pull off to the side, to await my inevitable judgement. After what felt like an eternity, she comes back, hands me my registration, and says: "you get to where ever you're going, put your N up, and then get your damned licence as soon as you can."
Biggest releif of my life. Needless to say, first thing on Monday, I'm getting my licence replaced haha.
So Tel and I drove around more, then proceeded to her house to watch hilarious Film 12 projects, and listen to silly punk bands on myspace. Then I drove home, at chinese food, and am now sitting in the basement, listening to "Greeting from Michigan"
But, I hear things outside. I can't sleep, and I'm afraid. I have two performances tomorrow too! I need sleep tonight, so I can get up early tomorrow and practise music.
I think I'll just sit alone, afraid, and write a song. Maybe my sappy sad music will scare off any potential attackers. I'm counting on it.
On a side note, why aren't simple math skills a requirement to work at Denny's? honestly, 24 - 9 = 15. Simple. (I ordered $9 worth of food, had only a $20, and two toonies, I wanted to get rid of my coins, so gave her my $20 and the two toonies, in the hopes of getting $15 in change, so I would have bills to put in the bank...that makes sense, right?) I think so...Very simple. Not to the waitress, though, who somehow thought it equalled me owing her $5. After me trying to explain it to her, I just gave her a $20, and asked for my change. Needless to say, she recieved a small tip. Mostly because I'm cheap.
Okay, upon rereading that, it is confusing, but my point still stands.
I also need sleep.
But I am still refusing to go upstairs.
This is getting confusing. Wish me luck....
Thursday, December 07, 2006
God Rest Ye Ears Merry Gentleman...
I'm not a big fan of Christmas. I like it, I guess. I can retain some pleasure out of it. I mean, I like wrapping presents, I like gingerbread houses. I always get nostalgic when I smell pine needles, because it makes me think of Christmas Trees, which I've always enjoyed decorating. I don't hate Christmas. In fact, I guess I kind of like Christmas. It doesn't top my list, but it's cool.
But there is one aspect of it that literally could drive me to kill. Kill all my friends even. Coming from a pacifist that loves all her friends dearly, this is quite a big deal. I know what you're thinking "Oh Naomi, your blatant hate on for religion must make you hate it!" No, it's not that. I don't minid getting money from Grandma because they decided Jesus was born in December. And it's not the painfully grotesque consumerism associated with it. Those things annoy me, but don't drive me to the palpable rage I feel.
It's the music.
Christmas music makes me want to euthenise everything. My best friend, the neighbour's cat, the pope, Dweezil Zappa... pretty much everyone ever, except for Tess because I'm fairly certain she'd find it really comical if I killed everyone. Honestly though, if anything can do it, it's Christmas music that will push me over the edge to become a serial killer.
Add on to this that in my disambiguation of Christmas music, I came to another realisation. When you think about it, the music of Christmas serves pretty much two purposes: it's a tool of the consumer geared side of Christmas, and it spreads the word of God. I should have known it would somehow encompass the other two aspects of Christmas that I happen to hate. Though, it is a bit hypocritical of me to say I hate Christmas music because of the religion connatation, when I gladly play and enjoy baroque music. How odd....
BUT! I do love the Nutcracker. It doesn't count. I've decided ti write it off as an amazing romantic ballet, and not shitty Christmas music. And I guess I should say the same for Handel's "Messiah" Though...Technically Messiah is traditionally played during easter, and is thus, NOT stupid Christmas music.
And right about there I confused or lost all of my readers.
Anyway, I am so sick of Christmas music. I've decided this is my last year of associating myself with it. After the next sinfonia performance, and "the Polar Express" with the Symphony, I'm done. I will refuse to do ANY Christmas music, unless it's cool and by Tchaikowsky.
This rant was really pointless. Sorry.
But there is one aspect of it that literally could drive me to kill. Kill all my friends even. Coming from a pacifist that loves all her friends dearly, this is quite a big deal. I know what you're thinking "Oh Naomi, your blatant hate on for religion must make you hate it!" No, it's not that. I don't minid getting money from Grandma because they decided Jesus was born in December. And it's not the painfully grotesque consumerism associated with it. Those things annoy me, but don't drive me to the palpable rage I feel.
It's the music.
Christmas music makes me want to euthenise everything. My best friend, the neighbour's cat, the pope, Dweezil Zappa... pretty much everyone ever, except for Tess because I'm fairly certain she'd find it really comical if I killed everyone. Honestly though, if anything can do it, it's Christmas music that will push me over the edge to become a serial killer.
Add on to this that in my disambiguation of Christmas music, I came to another realisation. When you think about it, the music of Christmas serves pretty much two purposes: it's a tool of the consumer geared side of Christmas, and it spreads the word of God. I should have known it would somehow encompass the other two aspects of Christmas that I happen to hate. Though, it is a bit hypocritical of me to say I hate Christmas music because of the religion connatation, when I gladly play and enjoy baroque music. How odd....
BUT! I do love the Nutcracker. It doesn't count. I've decided ti write it off as an amazing romantic ballet, and not shitty Christmas music. And I guess I should say the same for Handel's "Messiah" Though...Technically Messiah is traditionally played during easter, and is thus, NOT stupid Christmas music.
And right about there I confused or lost all of my readers.
Anyway, I am so sick of Christmas music. I've decided this is my last year of associating myself with it. After the next sinfonia performance, and "the Polar Express" with the Symphony, I'm done. I will refuse to do ANY Christmas music, unless it's cool and by Tchaikowsky.
This rant was really pointless. Sorry.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I hate to break any hearts...
...but I have an announcement.
I fell in love again.
Madly, truely in love.
It's hopeless though, I realise this. I'm guess used to it, thesee fruitless crushes that just leave me forlorn. Always leading to nothing. False hopes. The usual sad story, you've all heard from me before.
But this one's different. He's special. Very very special.
....
.....is Sufjan Stevens and I want to marry him and listen to him sing all day for the rest of my life. I don't even care that he's a devout Christian, and has never met me before. IT'S TRUE LOVE, I SWEAR.
I mean, just look at him...
Pretty handsome....
Seriously though, his music is amazing. If you haven't yet, listen to the album "Come on feel the Illionoise" The arrangements are unreal, and his voice is beautiful. He gave me new faith in contemporary music. I'm completely smitten with him....even though I know our marraige plans won't quite pan out.
I fell in love again.
Madly, truely in love.
It's hopeless though, I realise this. I'm guess used to it, thesee fruitless crushes that just leave me forlorn. Always leading to nothing. False hopes. The usual sad story, you've all heard from me before.
But this one's different. He's special. Very very special.
His name...
....
.....is Sufjan Stevens and I want to marry him and listen to him sing all day for the rest of my life. I don't even care that he's a devout Christian, and has never met me before. IT'S TRUE LOVE, I SWEAR.
I mean, just look at him...
Pretty handsome....
Seriously though, his music is amazing. If you haven't yet, listen to the album "Come on feel the Illionoise" The arrangements are unreal, and his voice is beautiful. He gave me new faith in contemporary music. I'm completely smitten with him....even though I know our marraige plans won't quite pan out.
Monday, December 04, 2006
A place for fiends.
The other night, I was talking to some random person at a random get together. I told him to get a myspace, so he could add me and Josh's band, and thus increase our number of friends by one. He responded by asking me "what's a myspace?"
...
I was so envious. This person had found a way to remain so out of the loop that they didn't even know what myspace was.
Just imagine...
Never having gone through the process of filling out that long registartion form, answering the e-mail to verify everything, putting lame pictures up, writing a short explanation of yourself, complete with your favourite movies, music, books, television programs, writing and receiving lame comments.
Never having a top 8.
Never seeing pictures of 15 year old scantily clad girls with hair in their face, at awkward angles from holding their webcam above them at arms legnth.
Never getting awkward personal messages from lonely 37 year old men/random people from Eastern Europe or Southeast Asia.
Never having to listen to some horrible post-hardcore band that wants you to add them.
Never having your head explode when horribly obnoxious loud music starts piping out of whoever's profile your browsing while you're wearing headphones and listening to soft, quiet, Sufjan Stevens.
None of that. He'd had none of that. I was so impressed. I mean, I know not EVERYONE has a myspace. But to have never even have heard of it. That suprised me.
Afterward, I felt really guilty. This guy actually went and got a myspace. I haven't talk to him since, but he no doubt has then subjected to a bizarre new world of depravity. Strange people getting kicks from things he'll never know. Excessive amounts of yeliner, whatever the fuck "<3" and "< / 3" means, so many horribly self indulgent blogs with lame poetry (mine hasn't quite crossed that line yet...)
BAH! But who am I to talk? I'm a myspace band whore now. I'm guilty of it, I admit. I tell everyone about our myspace. HERE IT IS!! It's a strange sad addiction. Checking your page every half hour for updates, going on adding binges, leaving comments on random people's pages so they HAVE to comment back, and then I can sign on and see we have new messages and it's just like christmas.... It's a shame, I know, but it's the price I pay for being a musician right now. Myspace is just a really good idea for bands. And people with prepubescent emo fetishes.
...
I was so envious. This person had found a way to remain so out of the loop that they didn't even know what myspace was.
Just imagine...
Never having gone through the process of filling out that long registartion form, answering the e-mail to verify everything, putting lame pictures up, writing a short explanation of yourself, complete with your favourite movies, music, books, television programs, writing and receiving lame comments.
Never having a top 8.
Never seeing pictures of 15 year old scantily clad girls with hair in their face, at awkward angles from holding their webcam above them at arms legnth.
Never getting awkward personal messages from lonely 37 year old men/random people from Eastern Europe or Southeast Asia.
Never having to listen to some horrible post-hardcore band that wants you to add them.
Never having your head explode when horribly obnoxious loud music starts piping out of whoever's profile your browsing while you're wearing headphones and listening to soft, quiet, Sufjan Stevens.
None of that. He'd had none of that. I was so impressed. I mean, I know not EVERYONE has a myspace. But to have never even have heard of it. That suprised me.
Afterward, I felt really guilty. This guy actually went and got a myspace. I haven't talk to him since, but he no doubt has then subjected to a bizarre new world of depravity. Strange people getting kicks from things he'll never know. Excessive amounts of yeliner, whatever the fuck "<3" and "< / 3" means, so many horribly self indulgent blogs with lame poetry (mine hasn't quite crossed that line yet...)
BAH! But who am I to talk? I'm a myspace band whore now. I'm guilty of it, I admit. I tell everyone about our myspace. HERE IT IS!! It's a strange sad addiction. Checking your page every half hour for updates, going on adding binges, leaving comments on random people's pages so they HAVE to comment back, and then I can sign on and see we have new messages and it's just like christmas.... It's a shame, I know, but it's the price I pay for being a musician right now. Myspace is just a really good idea for bands. And people with prepubescent emo fetishes.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Symphony Chronicles:
So today was the first day of rehearsals for Handel's "Messiah" It's Handel's most famous work, and it's pretty much a huge Christian Choral Orgy. It's all about the life of Jesus or something. I'm not really sure. I'm basing this off of the fist sentence off the wikipedia article I linked, and the lyrical cues that the conductor kept singing during rehearsal today.
Anyway, for many reasons, I am excited about Messiah. First off, the music is challenging, but not so hard as I struggle badly to play parts of it. It's hard, but I'm actually really happy with the sound I'm making.
This is probably in part due to one thing: our temporary new addition to the cello section!
In a feeble attempt at protecting the innocent** let's call him Neo.
(**I do this under the assumption that only one of my readers is actually doing to attend this concert. I hope he wears his suit)
Now, most of you don't know Neo. This is fine. He's a nice guy. He majored in Minimalist Music in university, and he lives with his mother. His interests include teaching himself how to play cello, and figure skating. He's at least in his 30's. And he lives with his mother.
But we'll start this story off at the beginning:
Rehearsal got off a bit late because the symphony's new curator was a bit late. (She had to pick up the conductor from the airport, and didn't unlock the church doors for us, so the principal violist had to get keys) So I unpack my cello, and take a seat in my usual chair. The third chair. Right behind principal. My usual place because we only have three cellos generally. But, I remembered! We have a new player! How exciting!
So the cello section settles, but we're short one player, our second chair. I figured the good Dr. would arrive shortly, so I ignored the empty second chair, and seated myself comfortably in the third chair. Our new addition, Neo, sits down beside me. Now I've played before with him. He was first chair that time, and it was at a Strauss Ball last year. I was sight reading bass parts for that concert, so I didn't pay much attention to him, but I still had a vague memory of what it was like being in a section with him. Even with that experience, I had no idea what I had in store.
The first thing I remember Neo saying to me when he sat down beside me was: "it's good skating weather. I'm trying hard to get myself in great physical condition". I'd forgotten what Jordan had told me about him last year. This guy has aspirations to be an olympic figure skater. In fact, a few years ago, when a bunch of professional figure skaters came to Prince George, he allegedly cornered one, and asked them what it would take for him to make it on the Olympic Figure Skating Team. He was told to keep it as a hobby. But! that apparently didn't phase him. I'm pretty sure at this very moment, he's getting prepped to win gold at 2010.
Now, before I go into this any farther, I have to let this be known: This was the most difficult symphony rehersal I have ever attended. Much harder than the first Nutcracker rehersal, where I was sweating, and nearly in tears because I was convinced if I miss a note, that the conductor will kick me out. Much worse than having to sight read tenor cleft for the Magic Flute. No, this one took the cake.
Not that Messiah is that hard. It's quite easy compared to other pieces I've performed. Its baroque, so the rhythms are simple and metronomical, and everything is pretty much just simple scale runs in first position. But the music was not what was making this taxing.
No hard bowings.
No legnthy fermadas.
No odd time signatures.
In fact, it's almost entirely in common time....4/4....and I was reminded of this...every time there were any rests....because I could hear 1...2...3...4...1...2...3...4... constantly being counted....outloud...by the other cellist. And when he wasn't counting beats, he was loudly tapping his foot. Only, sometimes he wasn't on the beat, and it would throw me off.
Now, I'll be the first to admit, no one is above counting beats. No one. It's actually a good habit, to just always have the numbers running through your head, helping you keep your rhythms in check. I've seen the best of them do it. Juan Alderate De la Pena, bass player for the Mars Volta, mouths beats in performance during parts with weird time signatures. It's cool. Because he's playing through a 1000 watt ampeg cab, and NO ONE in the audience can hear him. I do it. Constantly. But in my head. You know, that little voice you hear in your head. It chimes beats for me when I'm reading music, much like as you're reading this you may be hearing a voice in your own head (unless you read my blog out loud, which is kind of weird....) Well, I guess this guy eliminates the need for that internal voice, because the ENTIRE string section can hear him. Or at least hear him TAPPING HIS FOOT. At one point Les, the conductor, noticed this. The look on his face was priceless and sad.
Authors note: I never finished writing this. But I'm going publish what I have done. If anyone is at all interested, the performance went very well, and my one expected attendee didn't wear a suit, but it's okay because he didn't know the concert was happening until 15 minutes before the performance. My brother also came to watch, and was disgusted by all the religious content. I'm glad he attended.
Anyway, for many reasons, I am excited about Messiah. First off, the music is challenging, but not so hard as I struggle badly to play parts of it. It's hard, but I'm actually really happy with the sound I'm making.
This is probably in part due to one thing: our temporary new addition to the cello section!
In a feeble attempt at protecting the innocent** let's call him Neo.
(**I do this under the assumption that only one of my readers is actually doing to attend this concert. I hope he wears his suit)
Now, most of you don't know Neo. This is fine. He's a nice guy. He majored in Minimalist Music in university, and he lives with his mother. His interests include teaching himself how to play cello, and figure skating. He's at least in his 30's. And he lives with his mother.
But we'll start this story off at the beginning:
Rehearsal got off a bit late because the symphony's new curator was a bit late. (She had to pick up the conductor from the airport, and didn't unlock the church doors for us, so the principal violist had to get keys) So I unpack my cello, and take a seat in my usual chair. The third chair. Right behind principal. My usual place because we only have three cellos generally. But, I remembered! We have a new player! How exciting!
So the cello section settles, but we're short one player, our second chair. I figured the good Dr. would arrive shortly, so I ignored the empty second chair, and seated myself comfortably in the third chair. Our new addition, Neo, sits down beside me. Now I've played before with him. He was first chair that time, and it was at a Strauss Ball last year. I was sight reading bass parts for that concert, so I didn't pay much attention to him, but I still had a vague memory of what it was like being in a section with him. Even with that experience, I had no idea what I had in store.
The first thing I remember Neo saying to me when he sat down beside me was: "it's good skating weather. I'm trying hard to get myself in great physical condition". I'd forgotten what Jordan had told me about him last year. This guy has aspirations to be an olympic figure skater. In fact, a few years ago, when a bunch of professional figure skaters came to Prince George, he allegedly cornered one, and asked them what it would take for him to make it on the Olympic Figure Skating Team. He was told to keep it as a hobby. But! that apparently didn't phase him. I'm pretty sure at this very moment, he's getting prepped to win gold at 2010.
Now, before I go into this any farther, I have to let this be known: This was the most difficult symphony rehersal I have ever attended. Much harder than the first Nutcracker rehersal, where I was sweating, and nearly in tears because I was convinced if I miss a note, that the conductor will kick me out. Much worse than having to sight read tenor cleft for the Magic Flute. No, this one took the cake.
Not that Messiah is that hard. It's quite easy compared to other pieces I've performed. Its baroque, so the rhythms are simple and metronomical, and everything is pretty much just simple scale runs in first position. But the music was not what was making this taxing.
No hard bowings.
No legnthy fermadas.
No odd time signatures.
In fact, it's almost entirely in common time....4/4....and I was reminded of this...every time there were any rests....because I could hear 1...2...3...4...1...2...3...4... constantly being counted....outloud...by the other cellist. And when he wasn't counting beats, he was loudly tapping his foot. Only, sometimes he wasn't on the beat, and it would throw me off.
Now, I'll be the first to admit, no one is above counting beats. No one. It's actually a good habit, to just always have the numbers running through your head, helping you keep your rhythms in check. I've seen the best of them do it. Juan Alderate De la Pena, bass player for the Mars Volta, mouths beats in performance during parts with weird time signatures. It's cool. Because he's playing through a 1000 watt ampeg cab, and NO ONE in the audience can hear him. I do it. Constantly. But in my head. You know, that little voice you hear in your head. It chimes beats for me when I'm reading music, much like as you're reading this you may be hearing a voice in your own head (unless you read my blog out loud, which is kind of weird....) Well, I guess this guy eliminates the need for that internal voice, because the ENTIRE string section can hear him. Or at least hear him TAPPING HIS FOOT. At one point Les, the conductor, noticed this. The look on his face was priceless and sad.
**********
Authors note: I never finished writing this. But I'm going publish what I have done. If anyone is at all interested, the performance went very well, and my one expected attendee didn't wear a suit, but it's okay because he didn't know the concert was happening until 15 minutes before the performance. My brother also came to watch, and was disgusted by all the religious content. I'm glad he attended.
Voodoo driving hex?
I've had way too many close calls driving this week. The weather being crazy is more than likely a contributing factor, but I probably could have died or been severely injured at least three or four times in the last 5 days. I'm almost starting to question my skills as a driver because of it. I mean, I like to think I'm a safe driver, but too much weird stuff has been happening at once.
Okay, well, I can pare down a few. Almost getting T-boned by a semi on Ospika was a mix of the semi being CRAZY and running a red light, and me being too tired to bother looking both ways before proceeding through an intersection. It feels weird saying that icy road conditions probably saved my life though. Good thing my tires have little traction!
I think other drivers being idiots has a lot to do with it too. I spend a lot of time driving, so the odds of me encountering more dangerous and erratic morons are slightly higher than most. But still, I don't like that. Coming to terms with my mortality everytime I leave my house is not something I like to plan on doing every day.
I've started packing survival gear in my car, in case I crash and have to wait for rescue. Well, actually, I just have snow pants and a huge jacket there becuase I was going to go sledding yesterday, but didn't, and was too lazy to carry it out of my car afterwards. Hopefully it will never come in handy.
Anyway, I have to go drive to a Symphony Rehersal. Handel's "Messiah" better be worth it.
Okay, well, I can pare down a few. Almost getting T-boned by a semi on Ospika was a mix of the semi being CRAZY and running a red light, and me being too tired to bother looking both ways before proceeding through an intersection. It feels weird saying that icy road conditions probably saved my life though. Good thing my tires have little traction!
I think other drivers being idiots has a lot to do with it too. I spend a lot of time driving, so the odds of me encountering more dangerous and erratic morons are slightly higher than most. But still, I don't like that. Coming to terms with my mortality everytime I leave my house is not something I like to plan on doing every day.
I've started packing survival gear in my car, in case I crash and have to wait for rescue. Well, actually, I just have snow pants and a huge jacket there becuase I was going to go sledding yesterday, but didn't, and was too lazy to carry it out of my car afterwards. Hopefully it will never come in handy.
Anyway, I have to go drive to a Symphony Rehersal. Handel's "Messiah" better be worth it.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
HEY! You with the face....!
Last couple of days were cool. Highlights included:
- Killer blizzard that stranded me in town
- seeing Paul and Chantal and going on an adventure with them that included.....
- ........going to the XXX store and hurting ourselves laughing at porno film titles.
- also, while on the topic of the XXX store, LOBSTER CLAW DILDOS AND ANAL BEADS GALORE?!?!
- Japanese food, and caffeinated beverages became involved in the equation (but only after seeing several movie covers involving elderly lesbians, and hairy hairy fat men that enjoyed sodomy too much. In retrospect, probably a good thing we didn't eat before going to the porn shack. Many things seen on those covers were definetly gag worthy. SO MUCH BACK HAIR, MY GOD)
- driving around on icy streets, in search of an empty icy parking lot to do e-break slides on while blasting the Aqua Bats at midnight.
And that was just day one!
Day two:
- Began with waking up at 7:15, after staying up til 3:30 on a caffeine high, trying in vain to convince anyone to go sledding with me.
- practically freezing my hands to my steering wheel while driving
- spending 10 hours confined to a small room with Josh, recording, mixing, and myspace whoring.
The results you ask?
I provide this link for your listening pleasure. Please add us, share us, comment, and do what you will with us.
Monday, November 20, 2006
I have very few emotional attatchments in my life and my car is one of them.
I have a little story to tell you.
Last month, for about two weeks in a row, I had a few run ins with a young man driving an Orange VW Jetta. It would happen like clockwork. I think it was because I would be jamming with Josh, and leave his house at the exact same time every day to make it to College Heights to teach guitar. I'd hit the same busy traffic at the same time. And there'd always be this prick driving really really agressively, trying to loop in and out of traffic, go really fast, and generally just be a douchebag. I'd always wind up around two cars ahead of him, and observe from my rearview mirror as he's trying feebly to get passed everyone.
So, being a responsible driver, I'd pull up beside the first car I could find with a veteran plate, and match speeds with them. Locking this poor fuck behind until the car in the right lane would turn off. This would happen at around the turn off to Superstore, or Costco. The VW would zoom as fast as he could up the hill, racing to the top as fast as he could. So I'd always turn on Davie, cut through Baker, bypass the light, and wind up infront of him again.
This happened at least two or three times. It would unfold exactly the same way everytime. I didn't really think much of it.
Until I was on the boredinpg forums this morning, and I found a link to a Volkswagon Internet Community for PG. I figured, 'hell, I drive a fox, maybe they could help me get a new door for my glove box.' So I took the link, and went to the subforum for Fox's and found this topic.
I nearly started crying. This was not something I wanted to see at 11:30 am after not sleeping for two days. Now, as if finding out some creepy douchebag in College Heights has been stalking me in traffic wasn't bad enough, he had the odacity to say my car was a piece of shit.
Asshole.
But being stupid and curious, I checked out this guy's profile and found a link to his myspace. On it, was this picture:
I'm going to have to find a different way to drive to College Heights.
Last month, for about two weeks in a row, I had a few run ins with a young man driving an Orange VW Jetta. It would happen like clockwork. I think it was because I would be jamming with Josh, and leave his house at the exact same time every day to make it to College Heights to teach guitar. I'd hit the same busy traffic at the same time. And there'd always be this prick driving really really agressively, trying to loop in and out of traffic, go really fast, and generally just be a douchebag. I'd always wind up around two cars ahead of him, and observe from my rearview mirror as he's trying feebly to get passed everyone.
So, being a responsible driver, I'd pull up beside the first car I could find with a veteran plate, and match speeds with them. Locking this poor fuck behind until the car in the right lane would turn off. This would happen at around the turn off to Superstore, or Costco. The VW would zoom as fast as he could up the hill, racing to the top as fast as he could. So I'd always turn on Davie, cut through Baker, bypass the light, and wind up infront of him again.
This happened at least two or three times. It would unfold exactly the same way everytime. I didn't really think much of it.
Until I was on the boredinpg forums this morning, and I found a link to a Volkswagon Internet Community for PG. I figured, 'hell, I drive a fox, maybe they could help me get a new door for my glove box.' So I took the link, and went to the subforum for Fox's and found this topic.
I nearly started crying. This was not something I wanted to see at 11:30 am after not sleeping for two days. Now, as if finding out some creepy douchebag in College Heights has been stalking me in traffic wasn't bad enough, he had the odacity to say my car was a piece of shit.
Asshole.
But being stupid and curious, I checked out this guy's profile and found a link to his myspace. On it, was this picture:
I'm going to have to find a different way to drive to College Heights.
I am robot.
Apparently I live for the extra edge you get from being perpetually sleep deprived. I've been unable to get a good night's sleep. I've been sleeping irregularly for the last couple of weeks. Last night I got no sleep, and tonight is proving to be no different.
I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm over taxed. I'd assume that being over taxed would make me more tired, and thus want sleep more. But I guess I am over tired and want sleep, I just can't get it.
I hate sleeping without dreaming. Even horribly bad dreams are better than no dreams. I went through a long string of just blank nights. I'd sleep long, like a solid 8 hours, but I'd have no recollection of anything.
The last dream I remember having was really pleasant. It was a beautiful summary of a few nice things that I wish would happen. Nothing outlandish, not asking too much. Just best case scenarios. And then I woke up. I felt a bit bitter that morning, for a few reasons. Namely because I know that what I dreamed, no matter how hard I wish, will never happen. I guess I was also slightly bitter that I woke up too. I haven't slept well since.
I remember when I was younger I had really really terrible dreams a lot. Sometimes there were the standard nightmares, like some incomprehensible monster persuing me, and I'd try to run but my legs are too weak to move, and I'd try to scream, and only air seeped through without a sound.
Then there were those weird dreams that just had a bad vibe. They were strange, and I would just be expecting something bad to happen. Then I'd wake up from them, and my day would just feel as if it were a continuation of the dream. The same dull forboding feeling, following me around.
All of that made sleeping harder for me when I was a kid. I got over it though. It wasn't really a huge problem for long. I remember when I was having nightmares a lot, my mom told me that if you dream something, it means the opposite is going to happen. I know she just said this to make me feel better, but it really stuck. Knowing my luck, it holds true for both the good and bad. I've never been afraid of having nice dreams. Maybe not afraid. Maybe I'd just prefer not to. Fuck optamism, I guess.
I guess when you go long enough without sleep, it sort of feels like dreaming. For now I guess it's the next best thing. It's a strange drunkedness. Everything becomes automatic. Probably some prehistoric survival instinct. Maybe I should write some songs about it.
I don't know why I'm typing this. I'm going to eat breakfast cereal and drink some coffee.
I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm over taxed. I'd assume that being over taxed would make me more tired, and thus want sleep more. But I guess I am over tired and want sleep, I just can't get it.
I hate sleeping without dreaming. Even horribly bad dreams are better than no dreams. I went through a long string of just blank nights. I'd sleep long, like a solid 8 hours, but I'd have no recollection of anything.
The last dream I remember having was really pleasant. It was a beautiful summary of a few nice things that I wish would happen. Nothing outlandish, not asking too much. Just best case scenarios. And then I woke up. I felt a bit bitter that morning, for a few reasons. Namely because I know that what I dreamed, no matter how hard I wish, will never happen. I guess I was also slightly bitter that I woke up too. I haven't slept well since.
I remember when I was younger I had really really terrible dreams a lot. Sometimes there were the standard nightmares, like some incomprehensible monster persuing me, and I'd try to run but my legs are too weak to move, and I'd try to scream, and only air seeped through without a sound.
Then there were those weird dreams that just had a bad vibe. They were strange, and I would just be expecting something bad to happen. Then I'd wake up from them, and my day would just feel as if it were a continuation of the dream. The same dull forboding feeling, following me around.
All of that made sleeping harder for me when I was a kid. I got over it though. It wasn't really a huge problem for long. I remember when I was having nightmares a lot, my mom told me that if you dream something, it means the opposite is going to happen. I know she just said this to make me feel better, but it really stuck. Knowing my luck, it holds true for both the good and bad. I've never been afraid of having nice dreams. Maybe not afraid. Maybe I'd just prefer not to. Fuck optamism, I guess.
I guess when you go long enough without sleep, it sort of feels like dreaming. For now I guess it's the next best thing. It's a strange drunkedness. Everything becomes automatic. Probably some prehistoric survival instinct. Maybe I should write some songs about it.
I don't know why I'm typing this. I'm going to eat breakfast cereal and drink some coffee.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Paycheck vs. Lottery....?
I never get good ideas for songs when I'm in a good mood. But I can never complete one when I'm a bad one. This is a strange coincidence. Lets just say that right now I have a lot of ideas going nowhere. And it's frustrating. I wrote this really hard cello part for a song that I would barely have the indurance to keep up during a performance, but damn if it doesn't sound neat. It's probably heavily influenced by me listening to too much Sibelius while feeling sorry for myself.
Right now I'm on a very tight music regiment. It includes endless hours of daily practise, playing in three different orchestral ensembles and one chamber ensemble, at least two hours per day of listening to influencial orchestral pieces, and noteworthy solo cello pieces (on rotation right now is Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, and Bach's Cello Suite No. 5 in C Minor. Both are stunning), studies of theory, and engulfing myself in the history of western music. This includes knowing time periods (Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Mordern), note worthy composers of said period, other specifics of the period (art, literature, architecture) outside influences (religious, political, etc) and specific aspects of style particular to the given period.
This is all in preperation for music school. Auditions will be held, applications will be sent, and I know in the process I'm going to forget what I'm doing and why. I'm already starting to get that feeling. I don't know what I'm doing. I seriously have no clue. I feel completely aimless. I go through this routine tirelessly, and without break, week after week. Punching in time til I don't know when. The only thing worse than that feeling of being almost zimbie like is my complete indifference towards all of it. I know I'm going through all of it, but I don't know why.
I feel like I severely need a break. I've never been more stressed than I am right now. I just feel small, and like I have no control of my own actions. But, this is paradoxical because all of this ha been my own choice. I wanted to be a musician, I want to learn, and perform, and play, and write. I worked hard to reach the present level I am at. There's no doubt in my mind that it's what I need to do with my life. But I still feel this immense doubt.
Everyone's advice is just another layer of confusion to add onto an already intricate parfait. And everyone is so biased. But also, the reasons for my hesitation are fickle at best. So much so that I don't even want to admit them to myself.
I forgot I wrote this, and I also neglected to publish it. I'm going to now, though odds are no one will read it as it's a week old and will show up below all my newer posts. I have changed my mind about a lot of this. It's amazing what one good week can do for a person.
Right now I'm on a very tight music regiment. It includes endless hours of daily practise, playing in three different orchestral ensembles and one chamber ensemble, at least two hours per day of listening to influencial orchestral pieces, and noteworthy solo cello pieces (on rotation right now is Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, and Bach's Cello Suite No. 5 in C Minor. Both are stunning), studies of theory, and engulfing myself in the history of western music. This includes knowing time periods (Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Mordern), note worthy composers of said period, other specifics of the period (art, literature, architecture) outside influences (religious, political, etc) and specific aspects of style particular to the given period.
This is all in preperation for music school. Auditions will be held, applications will be sent, and I know in the process I'm going to forget what I'm doing and why. I'm already starting to get that feeling. I don't know what I'm doing. I seriously have no clue. I feel completely aimless. I go through this routine tirelessly, and without break, week after week. Punching in time til I don't know when. The only thing worse than that feeling of being almost zimbie like is my complete indifference towards all of it. I know I'm going through all of it, but I don't know why.
I feel like I severely need a break. I've never been more stressed than I am right now. I just feel small, and like I have no control of my own actions. But, this is paradoxical because all of this ha been my own choice. I wanted to be a musician, I want to learn, and perform, and play, and write. I worked hard to reach the present level I am at. There's no doubt in my mind that it's what I need to do with my life. But I still feel this immense doubt.
Everyone's advice is just another layer of confusion to add onto an already intricate parfait. And everyone is so biased. But also, the reasons for my hesitation are fickle at best. So much so that I don't even want to admit them to myself.
***
Author's Note:
I forgot I wrote this, and I also neglected to publish it. I'm going to now, though odds are no one will read it as it's a week old and will show up below all my newer posts. I have changed my mind about a lot of this. It's amazing what one good week can do for a person.
***
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Out of Egypt, into the great laugh of Mankind...
Today was sweet. I recorded cello tracks for this guys album, in an actual studio. Like, with two rooms, and pane of glass seperating the mixing room from the recording room. And they paid me to do it. It was pretty cool. It was a sort of soft rock/r & b album. Not really my thing, but I found it really really enjoyable. Nice guys too.
AND MY CLUTCH WORKS PROPERLY!! IT'S SO SCARY!!!!
AND MY CLUTCH WORKS PROPERLY!! IT'S SO SCARY!!!!
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Listen to more Stravinsky
I hate being in a good mood. The extreme highs of jubillation spell nothing but trouble to me. This comes from experience. The wisdom that comes from understanding that the universe has some inherent need for balance. A twisted way of leveling off the average, by use of polar opposites.
Last week was fantastic. This week has officially blown. It's had a few redeeming qualities, sure, but I just can't get over this feeling of having accomplished nothing.
Now, I hate complaining about things. Makes me feel like a self centered asshole, and I have tried to make a habit of supressing how irritated I am by most things. I can generaly keep calm, maintain composure, and ensure that my rage is contained to the confines of my own mind. But the quality and consistancy of pitfalls this week is just too much. I've had to deal with more stressful scenarios in the past without losing any sleep, but this time, I don't know. I just feel exhausted.
I hate feeling uninspired too. I usually have at least some idea running through my head at any given moment. A melody, or ideas for lyrics, or beats, or something. Right now, nothing. If I wasn't so lethargic at the moment, I'm sure it'd be driving me crazy.
I'm going to listen to L'Orchestre de la Suisse Romande and call it a day.
It's not even 1 pm and I'm already giving up on the day. SUPER! Stupid Tess being right. I should stop posting when I'm happy. Fucking karma.
I should probably stop feeling sorry for myself too. YAY!
Last week was fantastic. This week has officially blown. It's had a few redeeming qualities, sure, but I just can't get over this feeling of having accomplished nothing.
Now, I hate complaining about things. Makes me feel like a self centered asshole, and I have tried to make a habit of supressing how irritated I am by most things. I can generaly keep calm, maintain composure, and ensure that my rage is contained to the confines of my own mind. But the quality and consistancy of pitfalls this week is just too much. I've had to deal with more stressful scenarios in the past without losing any sleep, but this time, I don't know. I just feel exhausted.
I hate feeling uninspired too. I usually have at least some idea running through my head at any given moment. A melody, or ideas for lyrics, or beats, or something. Right now, nothing. If I wasn't so lethargic at the moment, I'm sure it'd be driving me crazy.
I'm going to listen to L'Orchestre de la Suisse Romande and call it a day.
It's not even 1 pm and I'm already giving up on the day. SUPER! Stupid Tess being right. I should stop posting when I'm happy. Fucking karma.
I should probably stop feeling sorry for myself too. YAY!
Saturday, November 11, 2006
If my life were a TV network...and my dad were Benny Hill....
..then my programming day would have started at
midnight: Relationship advice columnist Chantal Short advises call in viewers. This week features a confused indecisive fool who know's she has to bite the bullet, but is still too much of a coward to do it. OH DRAMA.
12 30 am After School Special, featuring a young fresh graduate getting thrown into a world of drugs and debauchery. Will she make all the right choices? Will she be strong enough to follow Jesus to salvation?
Channel off air from 5 00 am - 3 00 pm because nothing intersting happened
3 00 pm: Now begins one of those automotive shows where you observe mechanics fixing an old beater. The car being highlighted today was an '88 Volkswagon Fox. The ailment: the clutch snapped and ceased to function.
4 00 pm: Here we flip channels to "Survivorman" where Naomi is stranded in a large truck yard on the wrong side of the Frasier River for two hours with nothing for protection from the wild but her big wool jacket, and nothing for sustainance but a pack of Bubblemint Extra. OMG HER ADIDAS SHOES PROVIDE NO PROTECTION FROM THE COLD, AND WIND CUTS THROUGH HER COAT LIKE A HOT KNIFE THROUGH BUTTER!! WILL SHE MAKE IT TO SAFETY, OR HAVE TO BE RESCUED!??! WILL SHE LIVE THROUGH THE COLD LONG ENOUGH FOR HER RESCUERS TO ARRIVE?!
5 00 pm: Oh thank god we changed channels back to the mechanics show. They've jimmied the clutch back together, by utilising a crane, some chains, a crow bar and several different sizes of screw drivers. Turns out it was a ring or something that was placed wrong, and it caused a lot of extra tension in the clutch. When it was lest depressed, it somehow was given some slack and decided to fly off, disconnecting the clutch pedal from the clutch cable. So after two hours of labour, that was put back together.
5 30 pm: We start our evening off with a movie "Speed III". The film's tag line: "THERE'S A BOMB ON THE CLUTCH" Essentially, it's me, as depicted by Sandra Bullock, trying to drive a VW Fox from the BCR Site to my house, without making ANY stops or using the clutch at all to shift gears. If she touches the clutch, it may break, causing the car to explode. Rated R for Retarded.
6 00 pm. Just in time for dinner! A delightful cooking show commences. Our chef is preparing shrimp, sauteed with onions, and green curry, served over cheese ravioli (that I can't eat). Not only is it pleasing to the pallet, but very visually stimulating as well. Truly a wonderful blend of exotic eastern flavours, with a traditional European favourite.
7 oo pm: To end our evening off light heartedly, we will retire to the family room and enjoy the wholesome comedy of Benny Hill. Only, he's had a little bit too much to drink haha. Oh Benny! You kidder! Watch him go on the deck and bark for two hours at the neighbours dog! A laugh riot I tells ya! And look! He's doing that gag where a line of characters are chasing eachother on and off screen to hilarious trumpet music! OMG BENNY! BE CAREFUL THAT DEER IS GOING TO GET YOU! OH LOOK! THE TABLES HAVE TURNED, AND HIS FAITHFUL CAT CEDRIC IS HELPING HIM PUSH BACK THAT ANGRY ANGRY DEER. NOW INTO THE HOUSE, WHERE THEIR CHASE HAS BEEN JOINED BY A RANDOM BOBBY, SOME GIRLS IN BIKINIS, A NUN, AND THEY'VE ALL CONVERGED ON BENNY'S FRIGHTENED CONFUSED DAUGHTER...
...who has since retreated to the basement to play guitar alone. At least things have quited down. I fucking hate TV anyway.
To make a long and useless story short, I had a nice talk with Tel after seeing the marvellous Borat movie. I then went to a party where I wound up observing a lot of people high on K. I was then coaxed into playing guitar, and got to see a dancer do interpretive liquid dancing stuff to one of my songs. Also, I was designated driver, which I love being at parties, but I've never been to one at a party where I've seen a real life crack pipe*****. That was right about when I decided to leave.
Anyway, the next day commenced, and after 4 shors hours of sleep I was up and adam, ready for the day. After I taught guitar, I gave my student a ride to meet his dad at work, but right when I dropped him off my clutch finally gave out on me. His dad fixed it, but warned me that my clutch cable was only hanging on by a thread, so I had to use it as little as possible on my drive home, otherwise I might wind up snapping it, and not having anyway to start if I have to come to a stop. So, in one try, I had to teach myself how to shift gears without use of a clutch. I even managed to figure out how to gear down with out. It was pretty sketchy. And HOLY CRAP I WAS COLD. I had to stand outside for two hours while he tried to fix it (cudos to Rick, my student's father. It was just my good fortune it broke down there, and Rick happened to be a mechanic. It could have had far far worse timing.)
So I made it home in one piece (I only had to stop at one light, so I only had to use my clutch two times the entire drive!!). I drove up to my house to see that my dad was up to his wacky antics, as is his usual fashion. Oh fun times were had. Then I had to cook dinner. And it was a great dinner that I cooked. And tea is delicious. But my toes are still cold.
I haven't proof read this. I hope it's more coherent than I think it is. So far this weekend blew.
OH!
One up note though! I got a random call today. From Rocketfish Productions. I've been hired to do some session work for this guys album. They want me to play cello. And it's paying a pretty penny. Hopefully it will compensate for the majour headache that's been the last 24 hours. We'll see I guess.
****it has been brought to my attention that what I saw, was in fact, a speed pipe. I apologise for my ignorance.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Dear Mitch:
Your constistancy of blogging has dropped dramatically. This saddens me. Even Tess's has, but that's just to be expected. Still... you both have failed me. I don't want to be the only person kicking a dead horse. That is a team effort! Horses are large animals. They require a team to triangulate around them, like so:
So you see, you must blog more. It'll encourage Tess hopefully, which will in turn, encourage me, and so forth. It will universally increase productivity.
Enough is enough.
I can't beleive I've gone this long without going off on a rant about this. I've managed to supress it for some time, but I just have to let this out.
I don't understand everyone's fixation with Japan. My confusion goes beyond being irritating at this point, and is now nearing rage.
Now, I do understand that fads, in their nature, tend defy all reason, and are as such, inexplicable. I mean, they generally have to be fickle, flashy, and relatively entertaining in a way that doesn't make you think too much.
Just think back to fads long past:
*Pet Rocks
*Tony Danza
*Pogs
*Having Go-Go Dancers/a Tambourine Player for anything
*Being on any medications
*Boy Bands
*Jean Claude Van Damn movies
*Being fashionably emo
*Bashing Nirvana
*Voting at elections
*Going to college
*McAuly Caulkin
*New Wave
*Being depressed
*Club Kids (take that Michael Alig)
*Outwardly being nice to Jews while secretly still hating them
But what is it about this small Pacific Rim nation that we find to endlessly fascinating? Is it their sense of national identity, especially after a politically, socially, and economically crippling War in the 1940's? A sense of guilt on the part of the allies for being singhandedly responsible for the deaths of millions of Japanese civillians? Is it Pocky?
I think it has more to do with their use of cartoons. Much like Ciggerette companies, Japan has been using cute memorable characters to hook the youth of America. Joe Camel has nothing on these shifty God damned Asians.
I think this is all Walt Disney's fault. I'm fairly certain that in the 1950's he captured small sects of asian workers to be in sweatshops and produce cartoons (probably in accordance with some treaty signed at Yalta or something) and I'm sure a few managed to escape and took what they learned and created anime. If he'd been less of a cheap asshole and hired security guards with better aim, we could have dodged this bullet entirely.
Now I don't know if this is intentional or not, but this has been their greatest revenge on the west. How do you think FDR would feel if he knew that his great great great grandchildren know the all the words to the "Sailor Moon" theme song, but probably don't know that he and Teddy Roosevelt were related. 50 years after we beat them in the battle, they've won the war by taking the minds of our youth.
The thing I hate most about this Japan fad is that the most fickle frivillious aspects of Japan are being objectified. The parts that I find resemble America more than anything. Their fashion, their television, their music (though Ryan G has sent me some pretty cool Japanese bands) but I mean music that is either terrible J-Pop or punk/post hardcore/indie bands with Japanese singers. Bands that are so terrible, the only thing they have going for them is they're Japanese.
Japan has a rich history, epic, in its scope of art, music, tradition, religion, mythology, and horrible tragedies both acted out by them, and inflicted upon them. In this nation is a strange and wonderful culture, and above all, an influence that reaches all of us, but is understood by so few effected by it.
But forget all that crap, they have Pocky, right? How silly of me.
I don't understand everyone's fixation with Japan. My confusion goes beyond being irritating at this point, and is now nearing rage.
Now, I do understand that fads, in their nature, tend defy all reason, and are as such, inexplicable. I mean, they generally have to be fickle, flashy, and relatively entertaining in a way that doesn't make you think too much.
Just think back to fads long past:
*Pet Rocks
*Tony Danza
*Pogs
*Having Go-Go Dancers/a Tambourine Player for anything
*Being on any medications
*Boy Bands
*Jean Claude Van Damn movies
*Being fashionably emo
*Bashing Nirvana
*Voting at elections
*Going to college
*McAuly Caulkin
*New Wave
*Being depressed
*Club Kids (take that Michael Alig)
*Outwardly being nice to Jews while secretly still hating them
But what is it about this small Pacific Rim nation that we find to endlessly fascinating? Is it their sense of national identity, especially after a politically, socially, and economically crippling War in the 1940's? A sense of guilt on the part of the allies for being singhandedly responsible for the deaths of millions of Japanese civillians? Is it Pocky?
I think it has more to do with their use of cartoons. Much like Ciggerette companies, Japan has been using cute memorable characters to hook the youth of America. Joe Camel has nothing on these shifty God damned Asians.
I think this is all Walt Disney's fault. I'm fairly certain that in the 1950's he captured small sects of asian workers to be in sweatshops and produce cartoons (probably in accordance with some treaty signed at Yalta or something) and I'm sure a few managed to escape and took what they learned and created anime. If he'd been less of a cheap asshole and hired security guards with better aim, we could have dodged this bullet entirely.
What this boils down to is that I remember a time when cartoons were great. When Bugs Bunny faught the Nazi's and introduced us to classical music. The first time I heard Wagner was on Merry Melodies. I play songs in the symphony now that I recignise from when I was 3 years old, watching Bugs Bunny running around getting shot at by Elmer Fudd while it was playing in the background. You all should know by now that I'm all for cultural enlightenment, and I encourage myself and anyone to experience as much of different cultures as we can, but don't lose your own in the process.
Now I don't know if this is intentional or not, but this has been their greatest revenge on the west. How do you think FDR would feel if he knew that his great great great grandchildren know the all the words to the "Sailor Moon" theme song, but probably don't know that he and Teddy Roosevelt were related. 50 years after we beat them in the battle, they've won the war by taking the minds of our youth.
The thing I hate most about this Japan fad is that the most fickle frivillious aspects of Japan are being objectified. The parts that I find resemble America more than anything. Their fashion, their television, their music (though Ryan G has sent me some pretty cool Japanese bands) but I mean music that is either terrible J-Pop or punk/post hardcore/indie bands with Japanese singers. Bands that are so terrible, the only thing they have going for them is they're Japanese.
Japan has a rich history, epic, in its scope of art, music, tradition, religion, mythology, and horrible tragedies both acted out by them, and inflicted upon them. In this nation is a strange and wonderful culture, and above all, an influence that reaches all of us, but is understood by so few effected by it.
But forget all that crap, they have Pocky, right? How silly of me.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Phones are awkward, thank God for the internet.
With every passing day, I have begun to notice one irritating fact constantly reaffirming itself like some sort of terrible ulcer:
Having a cell phone would be practical and would probably save me a lot of trouble.
God damnit. I don't want one. I've been putting off getting one quite successfully. It'll be expensive, ridiculously trendy, and just another thing to irritate me with. But even my parents (who were advocates against cell phones from as far back as the early 90's, for their alleged--and according to my parents, proven--cancer causing tendancies) are saying it's a good idea. My Dad seems convinced I'll be constantly using it, arranging drug runs, or calling my crack buddies, or whatever it is he probably thinks I do when I'm not at home, but at least it'd be a way for him to keep tabs on me in the process...!
What probably would wind up happening is, if I got one, I'd have it turned off constantly. Or "lose" it somewhere in my car. Completely accidentally of course. See, I think I prefer being inaccessable. I guess I just like being difficult, but I think not having one does make my life a lot more simple in many respects. Though I'm sure that if, and when, I wind up in a ditch somewhere along the highway of tears I'd appreciate being able to at least attempt to call for help. But I guess I'll burn that bridge when I get to it!
Maybe if I get one, I'll only give my number to like five people. But I'm sure each one of those people knows five more people, and they all in turn, know five more people, and then in less than a week the whole world would have it. Damnit.
Or I'll just start not leaving my house anymore. That'd save me a lot of fuel money. Then I could revert back to the glory days of summers past, when I'd hide in the basement and play bass all day.
Naw....
Having a cell phone would be practical and would probably save me a lot of trouble.
God damnit. I don't want one. I've been putting off getting one quite successfully. It'll be expensive, ridiculously trendy, and just another thing to irritate me with. But even my parents (who were advocates against cell phones from as far back as the early 90's, for their alleged--and according to my parents, proven--cancer causing tendancies) are saying it's a good idea. My Dad seems convinced I'll be constantly using it, arranging drug runs, or calling my crack buddies, or whatever it is he probably thinks I do when I'm not at home, but at least it'd be a way for him to keep tabs on me in the process...!
What probably would wind up happening is, if I got one, I'd have it turned off constantly. Or "lose" it somewhere in my car. Completely accidentally of course. See, I think I prefer being inaccessable. I guess I just like being difficult, but I think not having one does make my life a lot more simple in many respects. Though I'm sure that if, and when, I wind up in a ditch somewhere along the highway of tears I'd appreciate being able to at least attempt to call for help. But I guess I'll burn that bridge when I get to it!
Maybe if I get one, I'll only give my number to like five people. But I'm sure each one of those people knows five more people, and they all in turn, know five more people, and then in less than a week the whole world would have it. Damnit.
Or I'll just start not leaving my house anymore. That'd save me a lot of fuel money. Then I could revert back to the glory days of summers past, when I'd hide in the basement and play bass all day.
Naw....
Friday, November 03, 2006
So is this where we draw the line?
I just broke the 5000 mark on total amounts of posts on a forum. I am now allowed to have a custom rank. I don't know if I should be proud, ashamed, seeking help, or even admitting to this. I mean, imagine how much time this must have taken. Even on regular cable internet, it would be a long process. I'm on friggen dial up. This is frightening. Maybe now that I've reached the highest milestone that is recignised on this particular forum, I'll cut down. We can only hope.
Monday, October 30, 2006
For the sake of safety...
...I have to find something to be unhappy about. Tess is right. It's bad karma to be elated.
So....
....I'm mad I still haven't seen the first episode of Heroes. I've managed to catch up on every episode from 2-present, but I still haven't seen the first one.
But for anyone following the show, my friend Marcy stumbled upon this.
That's right. Hiro has a blog...!! k001!!!!!
Yeah......I'll show myself out...
So....
....I'm mad I still haven't seen the first episode of Heroes. I've managed to catch up on every episode from 2-present, but I still haven't seen the first one.
But for anyone following the show, my friend Marcy stumbled upon this.
That's right. Hiro has a blog...!! k001!!!!!
Yeah......I'll show myself out...
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Good to go....!
I've been in an suspiciously good mood the last few days. And without the aid of drugs or alcohol either. Just good clean sleep deprivation and shows that go off without a hitch, and then catching up on sleep.
I managed to almost completely beat this flu just in time for the show on Saturday. The show was a huge success too. It went so well that I'm still half dazed by it. It actually made money. And not just pocket change. It made cold hard cash. Cold. Hard. Cash. We're talking 3 figures. IMPRESSIVE!!!
Also, I may have been dazed due to the confusion induced by waking up to the sound of crazy romanian gypsy techno, in a strange room, staring at a picture of Keith Richards in a recording studio getting superimposed by a bottle of smirnoff. It was a pretty memorable way to start a morning, but confusing none the less.
Also, I finally have SNOW TIRES. YES. TAKE THAT WINTER.
So, in short, things are looking up. I just have a really good feeling about everything, optamistic even, which is incredibly out of character, I know. But I'll knock on wood just to be sure....but for now, I have to go write lyrics.
I managed to almost completely beat this flu just in time for the show on Saturday. The show was a huge success too. It went so well that I'm still half dazed by it. It actually made money. And not just pocket change. It made cold hard cash. Cold. Hard. Cash. We're talking 3 figures. IMPRESSIVE!!!
Also, I may have been dazed due to the confusion induced by waking up to the sound of crazy romanian gypsy techno, in a strange room, staring at a picture of Keith Richards in a recording studio getting superimposed by a bottle of smirnoff. It was a pretty memorable way to start a morning, but confusing none the less.
Also, I finally have SNOW TIRES. YES. TAKE THAT WINTER.
So, in short, things are looking up. I just have a really good feeling about everything, optamistic even, which is incredibly out of character, I know. But I'll knock on wood just to be sure....but for now, I have to go write lyrics.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
O, brother can you spare sunshine for a brother, Old Man Winters in the air.
Today I drank a lemony-vodka and tonic beverage while watching "Fame" on an empty stomach. It made me slightly wonder, is 1:30 in the afternoon too early to be cracking out the hard liqour? That sense of wonder quickly passed.
It, for some reason, reminded me of that time I was drinking with Tess and a random slew of others about a year ago, and I woke up in Colin's basement with a hangover. I walked upstairs to find Steve Demons and Colin gleefully yelling at eachother, and then deciding to watch "Fubar". They refused to watch it sober, so they went to the liqour store to buy more booze. It was 11:00 am. Then me and Tess left, and ate nachos and played super nintendo.
In lieu of that, I decided that I'm pretty sure I'm doing okay. Plus the tonic mix wasn't even my idea.
I've been dying of worry this week. There is a performance date quickly approaching (Oct 28th...if you're reading this and you don't already know about it and/or are not going, then wtf?!1/!) Now the thought of performing doesn't worry me in the least. In fact, I'm quite excited to be able to play this show. However, I've been plagued with a sore throat all week, and it's only slightly gotten better. I'll be able to sing, but how well?
Guess we'll see. Apparently citrus flavoured vodka has a benificial effect to sore throats...good to know. Besides, my voice has been feeling better today, so I'll knock on wood and hope for the best.
It, for some reason, reminded me of that time I was drinking with Tess and a random slew of others about a year ago, and I woke up in Colin's basement with a hangover. I walked upstairs to find Steve Demons and Colin gleefully yelling at eachother, and then deciding to watch "Fubar". They refused to watch it sober, so they went to the liqour store to buy more booze. It was 11:00 am. Then me and Tess left, and ate nachos and played super nintendo.
In lieu of that, I decided that I'm pretty sure I'm doing okay. Plus the tonic mix wasn't even my idea.
I've been dying of worry this week. There is a performance date quickly approaching (Oct 28th...if you're reading this and you don't already know about it and/or are not going, then wtf?!1/!) Now the thought of performing doesn't worry me in the least. In fact, I'm quite excited to be able to play this show. However, I've been plagued with a sore throat all week, and it's only slightly gotten better. I'll be able to sing, but how well?
Guess we'll see. Apparently citrus flavoured vodka has a benificial effect to sore throats...good to know. Besides, my voice has been feeling better today, so I'll knock on wood and hope for the best.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Oh well, okay.
I have a new problem. It's occupying all of my time, taking me away from friends and family, and causing me to have parinoid delusions of granduer. I've had problems like this before. It started slow, simple card games like solitaire, which lead to freecell, then spider solitaire. After mastering those tasks and writing them off as games reserved for individuals with an intellect on par with that of a simple ape, I went on to minesweeper. I cleared every house record and even put some of Ryan G's times to shame. I finally kicked that habit, but have now been introduced to a new mistress: sudoku.
Now I'd heard of this game before, but never really paid any attention to it. That is until Josh and I spent a solid hour trying to play the puzzle found in the morning's newspaper. We were doing okay until we started making up our own rules and got completely owned by the stupid game. This continued consecutively for three days, in which I made noble attempts at every morning's new sudoku puzzle. Each attempt ended in failure, or me giving up. At that point, it was fine because this method of playing limited my sudoku consumption to whenever I happened to be in Josh's kitchen. It allowed me to pace myself, which was good. Until last night, when I stumbled upon this.
I was up playing this til 4 am. I was offored a night on the town by Tess, and I declined. This was in part to make my mom not worry about me being out all night again (at least thats what I told myself) but in truth, I think it really was because I was in the middle of a fucking epic game that I did wind up winning. I am the MASTER.
Anyway, I'm writing this to let anyone know that if you never hear from me again, it's because of this. I hope everyone's having fun out there. I'll be in my basement....
Now I'd heard of this game before, but never really paid any attention to it. That is until Josh and I spent a solid hour trying to play the puzzle found in the morning's newspaper. We were doing okay until we started making up our own rules and got completely owned by the stupid game. This continued consecutively for three days, in which I made noble attempts at every morning's new sudoku puzzle. Each attempt ended in failure, or me giving up. At that point, it was fine because this method of playing limited my sudoku consumption to whenever I happened to be in Josh's kitchen. It allowed me to pace myself, which was good. Until last night, when I stumbled upon this.
I was up playing this til 4 am. I was offored a night on the town by Tess, and I declined. This was in part to make my mom not worry about me being out all night again (at least thats what I told myself) but in truth, I think it really was because I was in the middle of a fucking epic game that I did wind up winning. I am the MASTER.
Anyway, I'm writing this to let anyone know that if you never hear from me again, it's because of this. I hope everyone's having fun out there. I'll be in my basement....
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
I'm usually not the crying type...
....but I found these pictures so insanely funny I actually shed a few tears....it's sad.
Here's the story:
This guy in Machester was at a club, and this emo kid started crying. Apparently his girlfriend broke up with him on the dancefloor, so the poor chap sat down in the middle of the club and started crying....while dozens of onlookers TOOK PICUTRES OF HIM.
So of course, the only logical thing that could be done in the event of these pictures surfacing is CREATE AN ONSLAUGHT OF PHOTOSHOPPING BRILLIANCE.
The results:
Here's the story:
This guy in Machester was at a club, and this emo kid started crying. Apparently his girlfriend broke up with him on the dancefloor, so the poor chap sat down in the middle of the club and started crying....while dozens of onlookers TOOK PICUTRES OF HIM.
So of course, the only logical thing that could be done in the event of these pictures surfacing is CREATE AN ONSLAUGHT OF PHOTOSHOPPING BRILLIANCE.
The results:
Friday, October 06, 2006
YAY!
HI EVERYONE. I could probably list off by name all the people that read this, but instead, I choose to give a few narrowly insightful updates.
I've not been able to see anyone I know practically because music-related obligations have literally taken over my life and not released me from its kung-fu grip. If you don't play an instrument, or take lessons, I probably don't see you on any given day. I realised this when I got an e mail from Tel. It dawned on me that the last time I hung out with her was at her two minute break from work about a week ago.
This makes me incredibly sad. I went from being able to see her every single day at school, to seeing her about twice a month, if that. This will hopefully change, but it'll be hard. I've managed to get myself into some extreme music training regiment that involves playing for a minimum 6 hours a day, plus on top of that I teach lessons, drive two and from town, and make time to blog. Today is a rare exception though. I went to bed at 3 30 am after drinking and going to Denny's with Josh and Mitch. I just woke up about 20 minutes ago. This is most definetly my most slack day all week, especially considering I woke up at around 7 every other day this week to go jamming in the morning. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining by any means, I'm merely marvelling at the fact I'm actually committed to doing this.
But today won't lack excitement!!! Today I get my first piano lesson with the symphony's concert master, Mr. G0rd0n Lucas. He's been insistant that I get a leg up on piano lessons for when I go on to study cello at some predetermined conservatory I'm sure he already has picked out for me. He's probably already started telling people I'm attending McGill or something. I remember last year he announced at a concert that my cello teacher would be moving to Winnipeg to do a masters program. Jordan was as suprised by this news as everyone else.
Now I'm excited to get lessons, but I'm still slightly afraid of him. Namely because he sends me e mails and encloses pictures like this with them. But I'm sure that the anti-semetic illuminati rants will make it all worthwhile. Hopefully I'll also get wicked good at piano. He says I'll get to at least grade 4 this year, grade 6 if I get my own piano to practise on. I want to get one to practise on so I can get good faster better and so forth. Anyone have a piano they aren't using?
OH! and before I forget, if you read this, I'm expecting you to attend me and Josh's next few performances.
Thursday Oct 19th at Kizmet. I think we start at around 7. The charming Jamie Bell will also be performing, so it should be a fun night.
Saturday, Oct 28th at teh Artspace. Anime, Big Old Eyes, and Ragu will also be playing. Not sure about specifics like when it starts, and how much it costs, but I will let everyone know. You can safely assume it'll be in the neighbourhood of 7ish costing no less than $5 and no more than $8.
There's also some stuff coming up on November, including a radio interview/peformance, and a fundraiser for folkfest.
SHOULD BE FUN!!!
I've not been able to see anyone I know practically because music-related obligations have literally taken over my life and not released me from its kung-fu grip. If you don't play an instrument, or take lessons, I probably don't see you on any given day. I realised this when I got an e mail from Tel. It dawned on me that the last time I hung out with her was at her two minute break from work about a week ago.
This makes me incredibly sad. I went from being able to see her every single day at school, to seeing her about twice a month, if that. This will hopefully change, but it'll be hard. I've managed to get myself into some extreme music training regiment that involves playing for a minimum 6 hours a day, plus on top of that I teach lessons, drive two and from town, and make time to blog. Today is a rare exception though. I went to bed at 3 30 am after drinking and going to Denny's with Josh and Mitch. I just woke up about 20 minutes ago. This is most definetly my most slack day all week, especially considering I woke up at around 7 every other day this week to go jamming in the morning. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining by any means, I'm merely marvelling at the fact I'm actually committed to doing this.
But today won't lack excitement!!! Today I get my first piano lesson with the symphony's concert master, Mr. G0rd0n Lucas. He's been insistant that I get a leg up on piano lessons for when I go on to study cello at some predetermined conservatory I'm sure he already has picked out for me. He's probably already started telling people I'm attending McGill or something. I remember last year he announced at a concert that my cello teacher would be moving to Winnipeg to do a masters program. Jordan was as suprised by this news as everyone else.
Now I'm excited to get lessons, but I'm still slightly afraid of him. Namely because he sends me e mails and encloses pictures like this with them. But I'm sure that the anti-semetic illuminati rants will make it all worthwhile. Hopefully I'll also get wicked good at piano. He says I'll get to at least grade 4 this year, grade 6 if I get my own piano to practise on. I want to get one to practise on so I can get good faster better and so forth. Anyone have a piano they aren't using?
OH! and before I forget, if you read this, I'm expecting you to attend me and Josh's next few performances.
Thursday Oct 19th at Kizmet. I think we start at around 7. The charming Jamie Bell will also be performing, so it should be a fun night.
Saturday, Oct 28th at teh Artspace. Anime, Big Old Eyes, and Ragu will also be playing. Not sure about specifics like when it starts, and how much it costs, but I will let everyone know. You can safely assume it'll be in the neighbourhood of 7ish costing no less than $5 and no more than $8.
There's also some stuff coming up on November, including a radio interview/peformance, and a fundraiser for folkfest.
SHOULD BE FUN!!!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
On the prowl for a name
I love being in bands. Being in bands can be a lot of fun. Great fun. Amazing fun. But if you're an indecisive lunatic like myself, you will always encounter one enourmous problem: you can't find names for ANYTHING. I mean anything. All my songs are either a) named by Josh, b) untitled, or are c) named withen the parameters of the following format: "[instert vague explanation of song] Song" (ex "pirate song" "Lor's song" "new song" etc) Now for the present, this is excusable. I mean, we don't have any recordings to share as of yet (though that may change soon), and we can get by communicating titles in this strange lazy dialect or vague descriptions of songs. Sadly though, there are more pressing issues.
Our band has no name. Mind you, we have only been a band for a few months, but we already have a lot of songs, and continue to get a lot of chances to play. How long can we hold out just with the tag "Josh and Naomi's band" or "Naomi and Josh". HOW LONG?! In the last three days, we've spent a solid six hours at least trying to come up with a fitting title. That's two hours a day pretty much. Hours that could have been spent jamming, or writing, or baking, or curing cancer, or something. These attempts usually end fruitlessly, and sometimes with Josh giving me a hard time about not being assertive. I should start taking Mitch's advice and carry around a newspaper for dicsiplinary actions. THEN WHO'LL BE NOT ASSERTIVE. HUH. That's right.
It's frustrating though. I mean, not to toot my own horn, but we seem to be doing pretty well so far. We have a good repetiore, lots of songs, people seem to like us, we getting offored chances to play, but we have no title, nothing that we can just be like "hey weretime to stfu and rock". It's sad. But I'm terrible at thinking of things, and Josh seems convinced I'm lying to him everytime I agree with any of his ideas, so for now, no progress. Hopefully I'll think of something in a supreme moment of divine inspiration. But when am I ever graced with such luck...? Never. So, in short, it's all up to Josh at this point. Good luck pal!
Our band has no name. Mind you, we have only been a band for a few months, but we already have a lot of songs, and continue to get a lot of chances to play. How long can we hold out just with the tag "Josh and Naomi's band" or "Naomi and Josh". HOW LONG?! In the last three days, we've spent a solid six hours at least trying to come up with a fitting title. That's two hours a day pretty much. Hours that could have been spent jamming, or writing, or baking, or curing cancer, or something. These attempts usually end fruitlessly, and sometimes with Josh giving me a hard time about not being assertive. I should start taking Mitch's advice and carry around a newspaper for dicsiplinary actions. THEN WHO'LL BE NOT ASSERTIVE. HUH. That's right.
It's frustrating though. I mean, not to toot my own horn, but we seem to be doing pretty well so far. We have a good repetiore, lots of songs, people seem to like us, we getting offored chances to play, but we have no title, nothing that we can just be like "hey were
Sunday, September 24, 2006
OMFG STEAM R0X0RZ TEH BIG ONE111!
Last night I didn't get home til 4:45 am. I spent the entire night driving drunk people around, dabbling in Jack Daniels with Chris, trying to find Tremblay (he disapeared in a drunken stupor), and then cruely depriving Chris and Zach of sleep. Also Denny's, mentos, diet coke, and building a campfire all fit into that somehow too.
In all, my rewards for this:
A full tank of gas, a greasy dinner at Denny's, and the next morning, I found a full, unopened bottle of Jose Cuervo Especial rolling around in my car.
In short, this post is useless. But I have nothing else to do today.
HERE'S AN IDEA. Lets conduct an experiment. I'm slightly curious how many people actually read this (having thought only Tess, Brandon and Mitch did until several random people mentioned having heard my anecdotes before via reading my blog) so anyone who reads this posts, post a comment. You can do it anonymously, doesn't matter. Or not. But co-operation is pivitol in the success of my experiment. So...it's likely to fail. AWESOME!!
In all, my rewards for this:
A full tank of gas, a greasy dinner at Denny's, and the next morning, I found a full, unopened bottle of Jose Cuervo Especial rolling around in my car.
In short, this post is useless. But I have nothing else to do today.
HERE'S AN IDEA. Lets conduct an experiment. I'm slightly curious how many people actually read this (having thought only Tess, Brandon and Mitch did until several random people mentioned having heard my anecdotes before via reading my blog) so anyone who reads this posts, post a comment. You can do it anonymously, doesn't matter. Or not. But co-operation is pivitol in the success of my experiment. So...it's likely to fail. AWESOME!!
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
Oh well.
So in all fairness, today should have been an awesome day. I woke up at 8 with a half empty bottle of wine, (which is great because it means it's also half full) then got breakfast and proceeded to Josh's house, where we commenced with recording. We made so much progress too, got guitar tracks for one song laid down, though I want to retake some of my leads because I suck at recording apparently. Anyway, we accomplished much and I was incredibly pleased. So I left Josh's house on a high note (hahaha I'm so witty!!) to go teach guitar, and being in a pretty good mood I figured I'd have a chill evening, even though I'm was a bit too tired to function at my best. But at that point I remembered I had to pick up music for tonights symphony rehersal, so I stopped at the music school to grab it.
So I ran inside, pestered Jordan (my cello teacher) and returned to my car only to be blessed with the news that the friggen thing won't start. I poked the battery, tried to adjust the terminals a bit (all things that usually result in the car starting again) and nothing. The indicator lights were still all on, everything was supposed to be all "VROOM VROOM LETS GO DRIVE NAOMI!! YAY!!" But no, just a click. No turn over, none of those beautiful engine sounds a finely tuned VW is supposed to make. So I call for a ride from my brother, and sit in the car and wait. I was going to just sit and listen to music calmly waiting for him to show. I turn on my tape deck and listened to maybe the first 45 seconds of "Tetragrammaton" when my battery decided to just NOT FUNCTION AT ALL.
So I have no music, no car, no way of getting to my guitar lesson remotely on time, and nothing to keep me from wanting to go play in traffic. Cept for that bottle of piss poor red wine I had left over that was in the trunk of my car. I actualy considered downing some of it a viable idea until I realised there were people in the music school watching my feeble attempts to try and maintain my composure, and if I started drinking a mystery liquid from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, it may look suspicious. Luckily Jeremy showed up moments later and took me to my mom's office where I could skulk in peace.
So the car runs now, but my dad thinks the clutch needs adjusting, so I had to let them drive it home, and now I'm stuck here with the tankburban, waiting to go to symphony rehersal and fight falling asleep while counting measures of rest. Oh well.
So I ran inside, pestered Jordan (my cello teacher) and returned to my car only to be blessed with the news that the friggen thing won't start. I poked the battery, tried to adjust the terminals a bit (all things that usually result in the car starting again) and nothing. The indicator lights were still all on, everything was supposed to be all "VROOM VROOM LETS GO DRIVE NAOMI!! YAY!!" But no, just a click. No turn over, none of those beautiful engine sounds a finely tuned VW is supposed to make. So I call for a ride from my brother, and sit in the car and wait. I was going to just sit and listen to music calmly waiting for him to show. I turn on my tape deck and listened to maybe the first 45 seconds of "Tetragrammaton" when my battery decided to just NOT FUNCTION AT ALL.
So I have no music, no car, no way of getting to my guitar lesson remotely on time, and nothing to keep me from wanting to go play in traffic. Cept for that bottle of piss poor red wine I had left over that was in the trunk of my car. I actualy considered downing some of it a viable idea until I realised there were people in the music school watching my feeble attempts to try and maintain my composure, and if I started drinking a mystery liquid from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, it may look suspicious. Luckily Jeremy showed up moments later and took me to my mom's office where I could skulk in peace.
So the car runs now, but my dad thinks the clutch needs adjusting, so I had to let them drive it home, and now I'm stuck here with the tankburban, waiting to go to symphony rehersal and fight falling asleep while counting measures of rest. Oh well.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Part II
We entered the venue, made use of the washrooms (which I'm pretty sure were mostly occupied by people who were doing blow) and looked at the merch stands. I'd brought about about $60 in cash so I could pick up a poster, a t shirt, maybe some stickers and pins for the kids back home. But I soon realised that I brought enough money to purchase one and a half shirts, or 2/3's of a hoodie.
The cost of merch there was RIDICULOUS. I was so disgusted. Last year, when Tess and I attended the Mars Volta/System of a Down concert, shirts cost $20 and the cuts and designs were so cool. They had these wicked huge posters as well, and awesome sticker/button packs. Nothing cost more than $20. Here, the cheapest shirt was $40. There were hoodies for $80-$90. I was shocked and very dissapointed, but what did I really expect? I mean, the chili peppers are such a big name band, so I don't blame the band or anything. It still was sickly expensive though. The worst thing about the merch was there were people ACTUALLY BUYING THESE SHIRTS. Mind boggling.
So after checking out the merch, and being dissapointed, I remembered that we were actually supposed to somehow meet up with Marcy and Diondra at the show. I started to actually worry because we hadn't seen them and I kept forgetting to call them due to me being a tired fuck up, but all my fears were quickly put to rest the moment we stepped into the stadium and I heard two excited voices yelping "NAOMI!!!" There they were, in all their glory, the lovely Marcy and Diondra. With one less thing to worry about, releif washed over me like warm rain, so we proceeded to find our seats.
So the thing about this concert, is it was in a stadium, and we bought floor tickets, but they had seats on the floor. We were expected to reamian at our seats for the whole show. But at the time we arrived, hardly anyone was on the floor, and the Mars Volta were up in less then 30 minutes. So we went to the front to see their gear and whatnot, and then decided, well why not just stand here. I attempted to take pictures of their pedals and amps, but the only one that turned out was a photo of a random roadie, and also, this.
We settled in on a nice spot. We were just right of center, somewhere between Cedric's mic stand and Ikey's rhodes. Prime location. Pretty close to where I was standing when I saw them play last year, only this year would be better because there'd be no angry System of a Down fans yelling at random.
So we stood for a while. Standing, killing time during that awkward period between when the roadies are done tuning guitars, and the band comes out to play. That time when you start to get too excited to make small talk with those around you. When you get sick of bullshitting with the security guards, and trying to see what pedals the bass player has for his rig. Waiting for that moment when the lights go down and you start hearing the theme song from A Fistfull of Dollars playing over the PA. The epic moment when Ikey walks on, trailed by Juan, and Pablo. When in the back you can see the new drummer , Blake Flemming, takes his seat behind his little drum set. You can't quite see what Adrian and Marcel are doing because you're too fixated on Omar strapping into his guitar, and Cedric, gallantly walking to the mic stand. It's the stuff dreams are made of.
When they stepped onstage, the croud was yelling alot, I probably was too, I'm not quite sure. I just know that the excitement of the situation finally came to head, I recalled that I'd actually made that trip for a reason, a reason I'd somehow forgotten amidst all the driving and conversation and lack of sleep. I remembered.
They started their first song right off the bat. No talking, no bullshitting the croud. Strait to business (cause they were wearing business suits I assume). A split second into their first song I knew exactly what they were playing. I got excited and began slamming my foot into the ground (and I think Josh's foot) several of times. I was too busy thinking ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES to really worry about it. It was spectacular. For those who have Deloused, it's track 4. Listen to it RIGHT NOW.
I was glad they opened with a De-loused song. It made me happy. I sang along gleefully for the entire song. Especially during the second verse, when Cedric accidentally unplugged his mic and broke it. For most of the second verse there was nothing but me yelling the words at him as loud as humanly possible. I'm prett sure no one but me could hear it though. I could also see Juan so clearly. He was going mindblowingly berzerk on the bass. I can't even concieve playing anything that fast. It made me want to quit music, or get bass lessons with Juan Alderate de la Peña. Unfortunely for everyone, niether of those is likely to happen.
It was shortly after this that security became an issue. We were suddenly flanked by guards asking us for our tickets to see if we actually had front row seats. This seemed ridiculous considering NO ONE who actually had front row seats were remotely interested in the Mars Volta. So we were told to go to our seats. We started to shuffle towards the center of the stage and stayed there for a moment, putting a buffer of people between us and the approaching guard. For a breif moment I was right in the center, in line with the drum set, Cedric dancing manically, Omar convulsing all over his guitar. But the gaurds were approaching again, so we had to keep moving. Shuffling through people, trying to keep one eye on the band the entire time. We were quickly approaching the end of the aisle, and I began to worry that I'd lose my chance to be so close to them for the whole show.
The lights then went down. The first song had ended. When it came back up, they started strait into The Widow (track 2: Frances the Mute) I stopped in my tracks, transfixed on their performances again. The gaurds approaching from both sides, myself stuck in wanting to stay where I was standing forever, but knowing they'd soon remove me. But then a genius beamed down from heaven or where ever it is geniuses beam from, and grabbed my arm and told me to jump back a row of seats.
Actually, this genius beamed from Romania, and it was Josh. He pretty much saved my life and I am forever grateful. Because of his quick thinking we watched the entire show undisturbed from our new location right next to where the saxaphone and percussionist were located. It was fantastic because the front row almost entirely emptied out, so we had a great view and no one was pestering us.
The lights went down and they went into their third song, Tetragrammaton (track 2: Ampuchture) Now at the time of the concert, I hadn't had enough time to really get into the new album. I'd maybe listened to it three times all the way through, and always without paying much attention. The more I've gotten aquianted with it, the more I realise just how amazing their performance was. Between Adrian trading off between playing flute, tenor sax, soprano sax, bass clarinet, and percussion, to Cedric hitting notes so high I would faint in any attempt at singing them, to Pablo playing harmonised leads with omar, to the orginised randomness of their jams, it was all just spectacular.
After a lengthy jam the broke into Viscera Eyes (track 6: Amptuechture, or listen to it here!) This song was awesome, and since it was the first released single I knew it the best out of all the newer ones they played. Cedric just blew my mind with his vocals. Also, Pablo is a very good guitar player. He replaced Jeremy Michael Ward, the Mars Volta's late sound manipulator, but is also taking on rhythm guitar as well, and it sounded fantastic.
At long last, they came to their closing number, which also happened to be the longest song of the evening: Day of the Baphomets (track 7: Amputechture) I hadn't heard this song more than twice, but they pulled it off stunningly. After listening to it again at home, I just marvelled at how incredibly well they managed to stay together in parts with strange time signatures and the like. It was impressive, though sometimes the randomness was a bit much to take. I still found the entire set amazing. Also, Marcel had a bongo solo in this song that was amazing. He nailed it live, it was awesome to see.
So after they wrapped up and vacated the stage, we meandered to our seats. Way the hell back in row 30. I chatted it up with some hippy kid who was in awe after seeing the Mars Volta for the first time. Seemed like a nice guy. Then I sat quietly talking to Josh and fighting waves of tiredness. I was so sore by then. My back and my calf muscles were just tired and over taxed. A lot of stuff happened between the sets, but I can't remember much save for talking to that guy, and Marcy and Diondra running up to us and asking Josh to boot for them. I laughed, they got discouraged and left, and I forget what happened next.
One thing I distinctly recall is some radio announcer guy bullshitting on stage for a while. This topic will be brought up later. The other outstanding memory was the random cheering. One random asshole in the back of the stadium would whistle, and a few other douchebags would think the band was coming on stage, so they'd cheer, and before you know it the entire stadium of like 10 000 people are yelling at nothing!!! It sucked because I lost my ear plugs during the mars volta's set and had to fashion make shift ones out of gum rappers. It functioned well enough, because I maintained most of my hearing.
I don't remember too many details about the chili peppers set. I remember it was loud, they played really exceptionally well, they opened with Can't Stop, and closed with By the Way, and that John Frusciante stole the show. I would have recalled more, but nearly all of their performance Josh and I kept trying to squeeze our way through hundreds of sweaty frat boys and their creepy girlfriends, all sweating and humping and wreaking of cheap cologne that, to this day, and entire WEEK later, still hasn't washed off my hoodie.
Josh seemed confident we could meander our way to the front, and I really wanted to beleive him. I wanted to get a close look at John Frusciante. Oh, John Frusciante. How I adore that man. I don't even know why, other than he's an amazing musician and bears an uncanny resemblance to someone I can't quite put my finger on. Oh well. He absolutely stole the show. His harmonies were amazing, and he sang a song by himself, just him and his guitar, that was just lovely. Plus he solos like a mad man. He also recorded all the guitar tracks in the new Mars Volta album, so gotta give him props. He's amazing.
Anyway, so we had the difficult task ahead of us of trying to avade security, while slipping between creepy gross smelly people, and creepy frat boys who kept touching me and sticking knees in places where no knees should ever go. The way the floor was set up, is there were two sections of seats, seperated by a large aisle in the middle of the arena. That is where we wound up, along with about 400 other people who had the same goal in mind as we did. Now, as if we didn't have enough things working against us, there were a bunch of irritable angry middle aged security gaurds trying to push the croud back and make sure everyone stayed EXACTLY in their seats.
We tried a few approaches. We had before us the challenge of meandering the maze of sticky moshers, or confronting the small militia of security. Both presented their own challenges. At first, we tried going around the side, but right away we ran into some strong arms who demanded I show them my ticket. It happened to be conveniently located in my jacket pocket, which happened to be conveniently folded in a tight ball inside of my bag. Not wanting to pull it out I told him I couldn't grab it, so he grabbed my arm and shoved me back from whence we came. Upon re-arriving at our seats I was hassled by another guard to show him my ticket, so I had to unpack my bag and present it to him, so he'd piss off. This was to be a continuing trend. At that, we started planning again.
Now when I say planning I mean Josh tried to yell suggestions to me and I couldn't understand anything he was saying, so I'd sort of guess based on hand gestures and where ever he motioned his head while talking. This method of communication may have contributed to our inability to make too much gorund. We made it pretty close to the stage, before being smothered by moshers and pushed back by security.
The great thing about being smothered in that mosh pit was seeing all the strange awkward people excited to see The Red Hot Chili Peppers play. The majourity were awkward middled aged meen who seemed to stare a bit too intently at Anthony Kiedes swivelling hip movement. There were also lots of frat boy types, and scary bikers. The best though, were the groups of scantily clad horribly overweight young women who wore low cut shirts, and drew red peppers on their cleavage. It was the last thing I EVER EVER wanted to see. It was actually worse than the weird spandax costume Flea donned during their set, because as they walked, the peppers jiggled.
ANYWAY. We finally resolved that it was hopeless, and just decided to stand in the aisle, maybe three rows infront of our seats. Security had a fit. They checked my ticket like 20 times, and kept telling me to return to my seat, which was now occupied by a short asian girl who was standing on top of it to see the show. Security told them to move, which was shitty, I didn't care if they were at my seat, and I'm pretty sure Josh apologised to them for having to move. I can't remember what happened too well after that. I was getting pretty tired. We stood at our seats for the last bit of the concert, and eventually wound up sitting. The pain from driving and then walking all day without a break for sleep inbetween was taxing.
The only thing that really bothered me at the show, other than security, was the retarded light show they had. There was a giant screen behind the stage, and lights that went overtop of the audience. It was sort of like watching a music video, and not that much like being at a concert. During songs like "Californication" they played some cheesy cartoon sequence and it was pretty lame. The only thing I liked about it was when they would show close up shots of John Frusciante gently making sweet love to his stratocaster. And also, being able to get a good view of Flea's bass solo. He played a bass solo that was awesome. It sounded almost like a classical guitar kind of, it was strange and great.
So as the concert was about to wind down, Flea went into a little speech about how much they love The Mars Volta, and how inspiring they are to them, which I thought was pretty cool, and then they thanked the audience for being there and busted into their closing number, "By the Way". We figured it was their last song because that speech seemed like a closing type deal, so in the last chorus of the song, Josh and I headed outside so we could avoid the oncoming rush of people trying to board the sky trains after the concert. So we ran up the steps, felt pretty clever, got outside and then could hear music coming from inside again. So we went to the door, and a guard told us we weren't allowed back in. We offored our tickets, but he wasn't having any of it. We also realised that we were supposed to meet Di and Marcy after the show, so we wound up sitting and waiting through the entire encore. I didn't feel too dissapointed, I mean, I like the chili peppers enough, but I wasn't heart broken to miss another song of their's, I figured I'd seen the Mars Volta, I'd accomplished my given task.
It wasn't until the next that I found out that the encore was actually a big jam session with Omar, Flea, John Frusciante, and Chad something, the drummer from the chilis. I was sad to have missed it, but I was so tired at that point, and didn't have a good view of it anyway. BUT you can watch exerpts of it on here.
So we waited to find Di and Marcy, and were unable to locate them, so we walked around the venue, past a strange erray of buskers, and about 10 limos, and around where the loading bays were. A huge amount of semis were present, taking all the sound great from the stadium. It was funny, there were people ducking under hedges trying get back there. I hope they were successful.
So we gave up on looking, and took the skytrain home. It was sort of strange, the two people I was supposed to find the entire time were found only once that night, but the one person I'd previously never actually met in person--Derek--ran into us at least 6 times. It was just strange haha.
On the trainride back to Mike's I overheard some girl talking about the Mars Volta. Now if you read my previous blog on seeing them last year, you'll already know that I've had run ins with people on public transit after shows. This time it was a girl insisting that when the radio announcer said "give it up for the Mars Volta" everyone in the croud went "Boooo". I ignored her and tried to stay awake.
So we transferred trains at Commercial Drive and were pretty much on the home stretch. The seats on the trains were set up funny, there were two seats right beside eachother, where Josh and I sat, and on seat facing into the train, directly infront of our seats. That lone seat should have existed for one purpose and one purpose only: for us to rest our feet on because our legs were in horrible pain. But, apparently that wasn't so. These two girls got on the train at the same time as us, and one of them planted themself directly in that seat. Empty seats were rampant on that train, but she planted her ass RIGHT there. The two of them sat across from eachother, and found it neccecary to lean forward and whisper in eachother's ears constantly. They refused to talk. They just gossiped, craftily whispering whatever strange weird secrets shify girls on trains that take footrests seats and act like douchebags divulge while whispering on trains.
Being generally irritated by watching them make asses of themselves, and having nowhere comfortable to put my feet, I decided to make that girl as uncomfortable as possible. I kept standing up and rifling through pamphlets behind her head, and grabbing the pole that was attatched to her seat, but grabbing it right at face level. I don't know if she noticed though. But she did make a mistake. She stood up for a split second to listen to her friend whisper something more, and immediately me and Josh threw our feet on the chair, where they rightly belonged. She realised her error, and proceeded to sit down beside her friend and take trashy pictures of themselves with their phone.
So, at long last we arrived at our stop. Lougheed Center. FINALLY. I was about ready to die. There was a short walk to Mike's I seriously considered just not doing. Laying down in the middle of a busy street sounded a lot more appealing, but I made the trek......only to remember that Mike wasn't home, but at a friend's house. So we were locked out. Again. So we had to find a phone again, call him, and then wait for him to return home and bestow the gift of sleep upon us.
We wound up taking Josh's car this time, obviously. Walking is for tools. Especially when you haven't slept in 36 hours, and your legs refuse to bend properly. Of course, driving lead to another adventure. We went to get food, first opting for Tim Hortins, then deciding wait there's a Denny's! only to remember there's an Ihop nearby and I promised Zach Bowers I would eat a Ihop at least once in my life, but then Ihop was closed, so we went back to Denny's only to see it was Grand Central Station and we had no hope of being served withen the next three hours (we also ran into that girl from the train again there) and at long last decided on what was our first option, Tim Hortins. They messed up our order, we got to Mike's at around 1 am and feel asleep.
The next day we got up at 10 45, ate at Ihops, which was terrible, picked up Diondra and drove home.
Teh end.
The cost of merch there was RIDICULOUS. I was so disgusted. Last year, when Tess and I attended the Mars Volta/System of a Down concert, shirts cost $20 and the cuts and designs were so cool. They had these wicked huge posters as well, and awesome sticker/button packs. Nothing cost more than $20. Here, the cheapest shirt was $40. There were hoodies for $80-$90. I was shocked and very dissapointed, but what did I really expect? I mean, the chili peppers are such a big name band, so I don't blame the band or anything. It still was sickly expensive though. The worst thing about the merch was there were people ACTUALLY BUYING THESE SHIRTS. Mind boggling.
So after checking out the merch, and being dissapointed, I remembered that we were actually supposed to somehow meet up with Marcy and Diondra at the show. I started to actually worry because we hadn't seen them and I kept forgetting to call them due to me being a tired fuck up, but all my fears were quickly put to rest the moment we stepped into the stadium and I heard two excited voices yelping "NAOMI!!!" There they were, in all their glory, the lovely Marcy and Diondra. With one less thing to worry about, releif washed over me like warm rain, so we proceeded to find our seats.
So the thing about this concert, is it was in a stadium, and we bought floor tickets, but they had seats on the floor. We were expected to reamian at our seats for the whole show. But at the time we arrived, hardly anyone was on the floor, and the Mars Volta were up in less then 30 minutes. So we went to the front to see their gear and whatnot, and then decided, well why not just stand here. I attempted to take pictures of their pedals and amps, but the only one that turned out was a photo of a random roadie, and also, this.
We settled in on a nice spot. We were just right of center, somewhere between Cedric's mic stand and Ikey's rhodes. Prime location. Pretty close to where I was standing when I saw them play last year, only this year would be better because there'd be no angry System of a Down fans yelling at random.
So we stood for a while. Standing, killing time during that awkward period between when the roadies are done tuning guitars, and the band comes out to play. That time when you start to get too excited to make small talk with those around you. When you get sick of bullshitting with the security guards, and trying to see what pedals the bass player has for his rig. Waiting for that moment when the lights go down and you start hearing the theme song from A Fistfull of Dollars playing over the PA. The epic moment when Ikey walks on, trailed by Juan, and Pablo. When in the back you can see the new drummer , Blake Flemming, takes his seat behind his little drum set. You can't quite see what Adrian and Marcel are doing because you're too fixated on Omar strapping into his guitar, and Cedric, gallantly walking to the mic stand. It's the stuff dreams are made of.
When they stepped onstage, the croud was yelling alot, I probably was too, I'm not quite sure. I just know that the excitement of the situation finally came to head, I recalled that I'd actually made that trip for a reason, a reason I'd somehow forgotten amidst all the driving and conversation and lack of sleep. I remembered.
They started their first song right off the bat. No talking, no bullshitting the croud. Strait to business (cause they were wearing business suits I assume). A split second into their first song I knew exactly what they were playing. I got excited and began slamming my foot into the ground (and I think Josh's foot) several of times. I was too busy thinking ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES to really worry about it. It was spectacular. For those who have Deloused, it's track 4. Listen to it RIGHT NOW.
I was glad they opened with a De-loused song. It made me happy. I sang along gleefully for the entire song. Especially during the second verse, when Cedric accidentally unplugged his mic and broke it. For most of the second verse there was nothing but me yelling the words at him as loud as humanly possible. I'm prett sure no one but me could hear it though. I could also see Juan so clearly. He was going mindblowingly berzerk on the bass. I can't even concieve playing anything that fast. It made me want to quit music, or get bass lessons with Juan Alderate de la Peña. Unfortunely for everyone, niether of those is likely to happen.
It was shortly after this that security became an issue. We were suddenly flanked by guards asking us for our tickets to see if we actually had front row seats. This seemed ridiculous considering NO ONE who actually had front row seats were remotely interested in the Mars Volta. So we were told to go to our seats. We started to shuffle towards the center of the stage and stayed there for a moment, putting a buffer of people between us and the approaching guard. For a breif moment I was right in the center, in line with the drum set, Cedric dancing manically, Omar convulsing all over his guitar. But the gaurds were approaching again, so we had to keep moving. Shuffling through people, trying to keep one eye on the band the entire time. We were quickly approaching the end of the aisle, and I began to worry that I'd lose my chance to be so close to them for the whole show.
The lights then went down. The first song had ended. When it came back up, they started strait into The Widow (track 2: Frances the Mute) I stopped in my tracks, transfixed on their performances again. The gaurds approaching from both sides, myself stuck in wanting to stay where I was standing forever, but knowing they'd soon remove me. But then a genius beamed down from heaven or where ever it is geniuses beam from, and grabbed my arm and told me to jump back a row of seats.
Actually, this genius beamed from Romania, and it was Josh. He pretty much saved my life and I am forever grateful. Because of his quick thinking we watched the entire show undisturbed from our new location right next to where the saxaphone and percussionist were located. It was fantastic because the front row almost entirely emptied out, so we had a great view and no one was pestering us.
The lights went down and they went into their third song, Tetragrammaton (track 2: Ampuchture) Now at the time of the concert, I hadn't had enough time to really get into the new album. I'd maybe listened to it three times all the way through, and always without paying much attention. The more I've gotten aquianted with it, the more I realise just how amazing their performance was. Between Adrian trading off between playing flute, tenor sax, soprano sax, bass clarinet, and percussion, to Cedric hitting notes so high I would faint in any attempt at singing them, to Pablo playing harmonised leads with omar, to the orginised randomness of their jams, it was all just spectacular.
After a lengthy jam the broke into Viscera Eyes (track 6: Amptuechture, or listen to it here!) This song was awesome, and since it was the first released single I knew it the best out of all the newer ones they played. Cedric just blew my mind with his vocals. Also, Pablo is a very good guitar player. He replaced Jeremy Michael Ward, the Mars Volta's late sound manipulator, but is also taking on rhythm guitar as well, and it sounded fantastic.
At long last, they came to their closing number, which also happened to be the longest song of the evening: Day of the Baphomets (track 7: Amputechture) I hadn't heard this song more than twice, but they pulled it off stunningly. After listening to it again at home, I just marvelled at how incredibly well they managed to stay together in parts with strange time signatures and the like. It was impressive, though sometimes the randomness was a bit much to take. I still found the entire set amazing. Also, Marcel had a bongo solo in this song that was amazing. He nailed it live, it was awesome to see.
So after they wrapped up and vacated the stage, we meandered to our seats. Way the hell back in row 30. I chatted it up with some hippy kid who was in awe after seeing the Mars Volta for the first time. Seemed like a nice guy. Then I sat quietly talking to Josh and fighting waves of tiredness. I was so sore by then. My back and my calf muscles were just tired and over taxed. A lot of stuff happened between the sets, but I can't remember much save for talking to that guy, and Marcy and Diondra running up to us and asking Josh to boot for them. I laughed, they got discouraged and left, and I forget what happened next.
One thing I distinctly recall is some radio announcer guy bullshitting on stage for a while. This topic will be brought up later. The other outstanding memory was the random cheering. One random asshole in the back of the stadium would whistle, and a few other douchebags would think the band was coming on stage, so they'd cheer, and before you know it the entire stadium of like 10 000 people are yelling at nothing!!! It sucked because I lost my ear plugs during the mars volta's set and had to fashion make shift ones out of gum rappers. It functioned well enough, because I maintained most of my hearing.
I don't remember too many details about the chili peppers set. I remember it was loud, they played really exceptionally well, they opened with Can't Stop, and closed with By the Way, and that John Frusciante stole the show. I would have recalled more, but nearly all of their performance Josh and I kept trying to squeeze our way through hundreds of sweaty frat boys and their creepy girlfriends, all sweating and humping and wreaking of cheap cologne that, to this day, and entire WEEK later, still hasn't washed off my hoodie.
Josh seemed confident we could meander our way to the front, and I really wanted to beleive him. I wanted to get a close look at John Frusciante. Oh, John Frusciante. How I adore that man. I don't even know why, other than he's an amazing musician and bears an uncanny resemblance to someone I can't quite put my finger on. Oh well. He absolutely stole the show. His harmonies were amazing, and he sang a song by himself, just him and his guitar, that was just lovely. Plus he solos like a mad man. He also recorded all the guitar tracks in the new Mars Volta album, so gotta give him props. He's amazing.
Anyway, so we had the difficult task ahead of us of trying to avade security, while slipping between creepy gross smelly people, and creepy frat boys who kept touching me and sticking knees in places where no knees should ever go. The way the floor was set up, is there were two sections of seats, seperated by a large aisle in the middle of the arena. That is where we wound up, along with about 400 other people who had the same goal in mind as we did. Now, as if we didn't have enough things working against us, there were a bunch of irritable angry middle aged security gaurds trying to push the croud back and make sure everyone stayed EXACTLY in their seats.
We tried a few approaches. We had before us the challenge of meandering the maze of sticky moshers, or confronting the small militia of security. Both presented their own challenges. At first, we tried going around the side, but right away we ran into some strong arms who demanded I show them my ticket. It happened to be conveniently located in my jacket pocket, which happened to be conveniently folded in a tight ball inside of my bag. Not wanting to pull it out I told him I couldn't grab it, so he grabbed my arm and shoved me back from whence we came. Upon re-arriving at our seats I was hassled by another guard to show him my ticket, so I had to unpack my bag and present it to him, so he'd piss off. This was to be a continuing trend. At that, we started planning again.
Now when I say planning I mean Josh tried to yell suggestions to me and I couldn't understand anything he was saying, so I'd sort of guess based on hand gestures and where ever he motioned his head while talking. This method of communication may have contributed to our inability to make too much gorund. We made it pretty close to the stage, before being smothered by moshers and pushed back by security.
The great thing about being smothered in that mosh pit was seeing all the strange awkward people excited to see The Red Hot Chili Peppers play. The majourity were awkward middled aged meen who seemed to stare a bit too intently at Anthony Kiedes swivelling hip movement. There were also lots of frat boy types, and scary bikers. The best though, were the groups of scantily clad horribly overweight young women who wore low cut shirts, and drew red peppers on their cleavage. It was the last thing I EVER EVER wanted to see. It was actually worse than the weird spandax costume Flea donned during their set, because as they walked, the peppers jiggled.
ANYWAY. We finally resolved that it was hopeless, and just decided to stand in the aisle, maybe three rows infront of our seats. Security had a fit. They checked my ticket like 20 times, and kept telling me to return to my seat, which was now occupied by a short asian girl who was standing on top of it to see the show. Security told them to move, which was shitty, I didn't care if they were at my seat, and I'm pretty sure Josh apologised to them for having to move. I can't remember what happened too well after that. I was getting pretty tired. We stood at our seats for the last bit of the concert, and eventually wound up sitting. The pain from driving and then walking all day without a break for sleep inbetween was taxing.
The only thing that really bothered me at the show, other than security, was the retarded light show they had. There was a giant screen behind the stage, and lights that went overtop of the audience. It was sort of like watching a music video, and not that much like being at a concert. During songs like "Californication" they played some cheesy cartoon sequence and it was pretty lame. The only thing I liked about it was when they would show close up shots of John Frusciante gently making sweet love to his stratocaster. And also, being able to get a good view of Flea's bass solo. He played a bass solo that was awesome. It sounded almost like a classical guitar kind of, it was strange and great.
So as the concert was about to wind down, Flea went into a little speech about how much they love The Mars Volta, and how inspiring they are to them, which I thought was pretty cool, and then they thanked the audience for being there and busted into their closing number, "By the Way". We figured it was their last song because that speech seemed like a closing type deal, so in the last chorus of the song, Josh and I headed outside so we could avoid the oncoming rush of people trying to board the sky trains after the concert. So we ran up the steps, felt pretty clever, got outside and then could hear music coming from inside again. So we went to the door, and a guard told us we weren't allowed back in. We offored our tickets, but he wasn't having any of it. We also realised that we were supposed to meet Di and Marcy after the show, so we wound up sitting and waiting through the entire encore. I didn't feel too dissapointed, I mean, I like the chili peppers enough, but I wasn't heart broken to miss another song of their's, I figured I'd seen the Mars Volta, I'd accomplished my given task.
It wasn't until the next that I found out that the encore was actually a big jam session with Omar, Flea, John Frusciante, and Chad something, the drummer from the chilis. I was sad to have missed it, but I was so tired at that point, and didn't have a good view of it anyway. BUT you can watch exerpts of it on here.
So we waited to find Di and Marcy, and were unable to locate them, so we walked around the venue, past a strange erray of buskers, and about 10 limos, and around where the loading bays were. A huge amount of semis were present, taking all the sound great from the stadium. It was funny, there were people ducking under hedges trying get back there. I hope they were successful.
So we gave up on looking, and took the skytrain home. It was sort of strange, the two people I was supposed to find the entire time were found only once that night, but the one person I'd previously never actually met in person--Derek--ran into us at least 6 times. It was just strange haha.
On the trainride back to Mike's I overheard some girl talking about the Mars Volta. Now if you read my previous blog on seeing them last year, you'll already know that I've had run ins with people on public transit after shows. This time it was a girl insisting that when the radio announcer said "give it up for the Mars Volta" everyone in the croud went "Boooo". I ignored her and tried to stay awake.
So we transferred trains at Commercial Drive and were pretty much on the home stretch. The seats on the trains were set up funny, there were two seats right beside eachother, where Josh and I sat, and on seat facing into the train, directly infront of our seats. That lone seat should have existed for one purpose and one purpose only: for us to rest our feet on because our legs were in horrible pain. But, apparently that wasn't so. These two girls got on the train at the same time as us, and one of them planted themself directly in that seat. Empty seats were rampant on that train, but she planted her ass RIGHT there. The two of them sat across from eachother, and found it neccecary to lean forward and whisper in eachother's ears constantly. They refused to talk. They just gossiped, craftily whispering whatever strange weird secrets shify girls on trains that take footrests seats and act like douchebags divulge while whispering on trains.
Being generally irritated by watching them make asses of themselves, and having nowhere comfortable to put my feet, I decided to make that girl as uncomfortable as possible. I kept standing up and rifling through pamphlets behind her head, and grabbing the pole that was attatched to her seat, but grabbing it right at face level. I don't know if she noticed though. But she did make a mistake. She stood up for a split second to listen to her friend whisper something more, and immediately me and Josh threw our feet on the chair, where they rightly belonged. She realised her error, and proceeded to sit down beside her friend and take trashy pictures of themselves with their phone.
So, at long last we arrived at our stop. Lougheed Center. FINALLY. I was about ready to die. There was a short walk to Mike's I seriously considered just not doing. Laying down in the middle of a busy street sounded a lot more appealing, but I made the trek......only to remember that Mike wasn't home, but at a friend's house. So we were locked out. Again. So we had to find a phone again, call him, and then wait for him to return home and bestow the gift of sleep upon us.
We wound up taking Josh's car this time, obviously. Walking is for tools. Especially when you haven't slept in 36 hours, and your legs refuse to bend properly. Of course, driving lead to another adventure. We went to get food, first opting for Tim Hortins, then deciding wait there's a Denny's! only to remember there's an Ihop nearby and I promised Zach Bowers I would eat a Ihop at least once in my life, but then Ihop was closed, so we went back to Denny's only to see it was Grand Central Station and we had no hope of being served withen the next three hours (we also ran into that girl from the train again there) and at long last decided on what was our first option, Tim Hortins. They messed up our order, we got to Mike's at around 1 am and feel asleep.
The next day we got up at 10 45, ate at Ihops, which was terrible, picked up Diondra and drove home.
Teh end.
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