hologram

OBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMAOBAMA

living in a glass house

Here are my albums in current rotation. Not my all time favorite stuff, but it's usually what I've been craving to hear at 5 am.

Bloc Party's Intimacy, is not exactly what I expected from those boys, but it indeed blew my fucking head off. The first track has lead electric work that would make you cry, and the drummer is still awe inspiring. I still plan on attempting to play to one of their albums continuously on the drums, even though I know I wouldn't even come close to the speed and precision they can pull off. But as expected, there's crazy drumming, lyrics that don't rhyme, dark motifs, and gripping instrumentation that has you buy the nuts the entire album (except for the two remixes at the end, which seems to separate themselves from the entirety of the album). Needless to say, it's dope and you should grab it.

Tegan and Sarah's The Con. I bought this album only because I could get it for cheap and it came recommended by a friend. This still continues to be one of the favorite albums of the year, for several reasons. For one, the writing is second to none in its originality. The production Chris Walla gave the album is phenomenal; everything is juicy, tough, organic, and sharp all at the same time. The album alone inspired me to delve into not only T&S's catalogue, but into Wallas as well. Thirdly, the drumming is gorgeous, and more importantly, effective. Well done Jason. And finally it came with a sweet behind the scenes look at how every track was born and was completed. Everything from the writing, to the recording, the mixing, with some additional Forest Fone sequences that are pretty hilarious. You can watch them on youtube if you have an hour to kill.

Daniel Johnston's Welcome to My World. The vocals are annoying as all hell, but the songs are like nothing I've ever heard. Performing all by his lonesome, usually with just the help of a guitar or piano, Daniel pumps out beautifully articulated songs of heartbreak, humor, satire, John Lennon, and speedy motorcycles. Anyone who considers themselves a music aficionado should buy at least one of his albums immediately.

The Who's Who's Next. Listen to it. Love it. Rock out to Baba O'Reilly and remember what rock is supposed to sound like.

Matthew Good's The Audio of Being. The whole album rules (most notably The Rat Who Would Be King, Tripoli, and Advertising on Police Cars). But the solo at the end of Carmelina is just something I can never get loud enough in my ears. It's everything I look for in a solo: loud as fuck, full distortion, entire scale, and terrifying.

Beast, Beast. It's not out yet, but I heard the clips from the album on iTunes today and still love that shit. I saw these Montreal cats at NXNE this year and was blown away. Think industrial beats on top of the Triplets of Belleville soundtrack, and that's literally what it is.

Placebo's Sleeping With Ghosts, and Meds. Another group that I was inspired to listen to simply from one good song. I actually took the long way around when listening to these guys; a route that I usually avoid like the plague, and that is the first record I bought was a singles album. Weak! Singles are for low-frequency jackholes. Regardless, I'm glad I did because their albums rule, especially these two. Beautiful lyricism surrounding dark, romantic times that is best listened to on wet cobblestone streets. Some tracks just make you feel like a strung out junkie roaming around Sussex on a Saturday night looking for cheap sex and cheap drugs. Tracks like In the Cold Light of Morning and Pierrot the Clown just move me in a way that would normally have cost me a plane ticket to Paris. Brian Molko is a cool androgynous mother as well.

Tchaikovsky's Three Disc Collection. Probably the only record that I own and haven't listened to. Sole reason for this? It's on vinyl and I don't have a record player. I saw it at Goodwill for THREE DOLLARS and bought that, among others. Three dollars for a triple-Tchaikovsky vinyl? Pff. Mine.

Anything by Cat Power. A voice that takes you from worrisome to care-free. I eat up this acoustic lounge shit. She's just as edgy as Amy Winehouse, except she has a better voice and shows up to concerts. Oh!

Radiohead, Amnesiac. I listen to this album, unconsciously, about once every three weeks. I just look at the spine of the record when it sits amongst my others and pop it in my player. It's so weird and crafty. There are only a handful of songs on the record that I would consider structured, literal "songs", and that's what is so cool about it. The rest of the album is just full of loops, crunchy bass, Thom Yorke's choir-boy falsetto, and a whole lot of talent. And time measurements that make you want to go back to school.

pirogies, film, and jackholes

I've definitely been slacking in the writing department as of late. But hey! What am I to do when my laptop has been reduced to a pile of Compaq Shitcario? That's right, the days of old trusty are soon coming to an end. Bill Gates has made me squeal for the last time. Time for an upgrade.

Other than that, everything has been hunky-dory in Andyland. Due to some run-ins and meet-ups with some very wise friends, a lot has been put in perspective and I've heard things I needed to hear. These weren't things that I didn't know, but lets just say they were pulled from the back of my mind after being bombarded with useless media exposure.

I'm still painting like a mad man.
I'm working on this one right now that is taking me forever. I utilized two brand new techniques and wrestled with them for over two months, mainly using undercolor and successive layers of complementary tones. Using orange in a blue sky was something I wasn't used to, but has separated the work from my previous alla prima style. Also, with undercolor, I've allowed the background base colors do the talking, as opposed to what was placed on top of white canvas. So instead of trying to create a technically accurate image from one single layer of paint I've begun to build from the bottom, up. It's all very exciting, until I stop moving and the lights turn off.

Carla and I were talking yesterday about getting back into candid photographs using film instead of digital. I like that idea, because the thought of nearly losing all of my digital photos from the past three years in an instance scares the shit out of me! So I think I'll take all of my tip money from
work and put it towards getting my old rolls of film processed, instead of sitting in my freezer chillin' with my pirogies.

My friend Caitlin and I are still discussing my upcoming portfolio website, which still excites me. Don't hold your breath though, this baby won't be seen until sometime in 2009. But that's okay, because I'm still trying to hunt down and document my work from the past decade to put on the site. It's going to be exciting and snazzy. If you know any artist websites (even those that utilize Flash), just leave them in the comment box and I'll be sure to give them a looksy.

I took a really cool self portrait the other day, and I hate taking those. I'll put it up when i get a scanner? Who even has one of those?

I've also been finding myself in a constant state of laundry. I just can't stay on top of it.

I've considered making a new swear word. It's called "jackhole". It's a combination of jack-off and dick hole (another curse i've been really into). I guess I kind of took it from Marc Johnson, when he mention "gnarly jackasshole" in Modus Operandi. I like jackhole better though. It's fun to say and makes a fantastic descriptive word, ie. "Well, the guy was being a fucking jackhole, so I left."

I've also strangely developed an accent? Not entirely, but I've noticed it coming out every once in a while when I speak. It's a mix of a west-coast Canadian tone, and a little southern cowboy delivery on certain words.

I was rummaging through some old stuff back in London last week and I came across an illustrated short story I'd written in 1993. It was fucking genius. It was about a bull that didn't grow hair until he was in his twenties, and then died because bulls don't live that long. If that's not strange enough, at the end I went on about how his friends and family surrounded his grave, every night! There was also an illustration of this, which I want tattooed on my body. Sounds about right. I can imagine now, a tattoo drawn by myself when I was seven of two bulls standing at the burial site of a dead and buried bull. You can even see the outline of the dead body. I was advanced. That's another things I need to scan.

My doppio-long-espresso-con-pana has left me over-caffeinated, so I'll stop writing. That was the whitest thing I think I'll ever write. Rock those khaki's!

over, and under.

nuit blanche, again already?

Nuit Blanche art festival is tomorrow night, all night.

I'm exited, except I set really high standards for nights like this.

As usual, I plan on starting around 11pm, and ending somewhere around 7am Sunday morning.

There's a lot to cover, but I'm down for it. If it's going to be as cold as it is tonight, it may get rough.

Events like this are always hard on me, my digital, and my laptop. The old girl can only take so much. I'll have to spend most of tomorrow clearing space and charging everything.

I also plan on having an awesome time, even if I do get zombie makeup put on in College Park.

deadly weapons

The other day I was flipping through the paper and decided to read one of a hundred articles on felons. As usual, any journalist will state where the person is from, and what they were convicted for. Around this point, I came across a term that I've never fully wrapped my head around:

Assault With a Deadly Weapon

Now, there is no doubt that some weapons are indeed, deadly. But really, isn't every known object capable of killing somebody?

My confusion concerns around when an object ceases to be non-life-threatening, to the point where it can end somebodies life. For example, say you and I are playing catch on a nice, sunny day. No problems, right? All of a sudden, I decide that I'm going to throw some serious smoke your way, so I throw a 300 mph fastball, right through your chest! Obviously I am going to be thrown in jail for first-degree murder, as well as assault with a deadly weapon. But when did this conversion happen? When did that baseball stop being a ball of fun and start being a ball of death?

Just for fun, I've decided to compile a couple things that I could easily kill you with, which were pretty harmless in the first place.

I'll start with Rick.

First, before anything, I would take the CD out of the case and play it. You'd be having a good time, because we would laugh at Rick Astley's super-black voice. It's such a deep, soulful, and rich voice that we can't stop laughing when we look at the cover. Then I'd beat you with the case (because they're usually cracked when you buy them in the first place, right?).

The nail clipper. Ooooooh.
One minute you're cutting your nails, the next, you're dead! Probably around that time you cut just too close to the nail bed and bled to death, even though you knew you were going to do it, but you just didn't want to cut that nail again for a very long time.
At what point did these two pieces of metal become deadly?
Various sports balls.
I can easily say I've been victimized by any sort of sporting goods equipment at one point or another. I've been hit from 200 yards by a golf ball. I've had a tennis ball in my eye. I caught a football with my upper lip. A kid threw a softball at my nose. The list is endless.

You may look at the photo above and assume that these are all either displays of abuse, or damage at the workplace. But they are in fact all Wii related incidences! That's right, you could kill a muthafucka with one of those things. Wailing your arms around at top speeds in a small room with a friend while simulating kicking their ass is grounds for a deadly weapon, I think. Hell, even I've almost killed somebody with one.

Pencils are sharp and pointy. You get the idea.

My beef is only with the phrase. Yes, we all know that this person tried to kill someone with a normally harmless object, so maybe I am just feeling sympathy for that object. I butter knife is just as dangerous as a machete, and a slingshot is just as deadly as a gun. It's all in the application and intention. Assault With a Deadly Weapon just doesn't make sense because at their core, everything is dangerous.

However! I do have a solution. A new law! It's called:

"Assault With a Friendly Weapon"

It's for all those Wii-murderer assholes.

Greyarea

I took the bus last week.

I sat at the front, as I usually do, directly behind the driver. The front is the best. I never fully understood why all the cool kids sat at the back because people usually barf from it being as bumpy as all hell. Plus, the front offers you a view like no other, as well as extra leg room and you get to be the first off. Although, a seperate question arose while sitting here.
I noticed that the bus driver was usuing a GPS navigation system. Is this wrong?
I concluded that it's not all that weird. After all, since when was it a criteria that all Greyhound drivers had to know all the direct highways across North America? However, it did effect the time it took to get there. This guy drove like he's never even seen London or Toronto before. Who takes Airport Road to get on to the 401 from downtown?

All in all, this was something I'd never seen before and it has further enlarged the amount of respect I have for every single Greyhound and public transit employee, because they have to deal with 50 per cent stupid people, and another 50 for the crazy assholes.

let's go places

I've always wanted to say it,

twenty tigress' and a single lion, in a jungle,

go ahead and arrest

i could use a little healing.

no big deal.

grrr, what a tone

what's the point?

it certainly isn't this.

this will never effect a "successful" person, ever.

you want to know why? because it's not in me,

it's in you.

Pain has always been of serious interest,

and anyone who knows anything about me knows this.

A little time to myself is good.

A little relaxation is great too.

Four wheels, rolling, laughing.

All for a nice couch, on pg. 87

God, that's fucking comfy.

A, perfect, space.

Doesn't that top-dollar taste good?

"Cuh-rear" makes a better backseat.

Did I mention there is an asshole on that couch?

A smack on the face,

a huge laugh, "in your room,".

healing has always been the most interesting part,

except for that part on my left arm. Christ, it hurts.

change everything, why don't you.

please baby, make your tits bigger.

Run from that post to that post.

okay, now from that post to that post.

Get some fucking control over those vices, already.

Although

Take a rest, I'll be back in fifteen minutes.

The Spaghetti Spoon.

The truth is, it's all been a huge lie and you've all been fooled.

Feel better?

Things have been going well.

moneymoneymoneymoneymoneythewordlosesallmeaningdoesntit.

get me drunk.

get me drunk!

Two words: twenty foot yacht

"oh shit, remember that forest of dandelions? hilarious!"

we could use one of those.

I love you.

GET YOUR OWN.

You look friendly, so I'm going to tell you a story.

Court-Appointed Attorney.

my dad can beat up your dad

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

"I dreamt of you on a hill with an axe and a keg."

Put up your dukes and I'll lose. It's a given.

Fuck the young hottie at work.

Constructive criticism: not for everyone.

Orgasmic and organic are not the same thing, so please stop jacking-off.

We're all out of power cords, hunny!

Distortion on ten, please.

When did my hard-drive get so soft?

"That's where the party is,"

Scented candles, your moms best pie, and a well-cooked tofurkey.

Let us just close our eyes and pretend we're somewhere else.

everybody poos

While taking a shit today, I began to wonder who else was shitting at that same moment. Then I began to laugh, because I started thinking about celebrities shitting. After cycling through about a dozen shit-lebrities, I laughed hardest at the thought of Victoria Beckham shitting.

Think about it.

Posh Spice pinching off a huge loaf? Haaaahahaa!! I'm trying to imagine her struggling-poo face.

I'll try to think of some more funny ones.

Nicole Kidman, Ghandi, and Bruce Wayne are all funny too.

desaturated stories

One of the huge advantages to working in a coffee shop is the intense amount of people you meet everyday. On occasion, you will grow such strong relationships that you'll have a chance to hang out with some of these people outside of work, which is always fun. Joleen and Zubeen are two of our favorite customers. They invited me, as well as others, over for a game of Cranium and drinks the other week. Cranium instantly became my new favorite board game, probably because I kicked serious ass.

The game is divided up into four categories. One is trivia, another is charades, one is making objects using putty, and the last is drawing on a pad without looking down. I'm usually fairly good at these sorts of physical games, unlike Monopoly, where the greedy-asshole-bullshit-backstabbing-gutless side comes out of all your friends. My game of Monopoly usually ends by forfeit or fist fight.

Hova.

Hova.

This is Kudzai. He is easily one of the most genuine and honest friends I've ever come across. We've been close friends for almost a year now. He was born in Zimbabwe, moved to Atlanta as a refugee, then over to Toronto a couple years ago. He is always an hour early for anything and is more reliable than an elevator (note: elevators need repairing about every 500,000 miles). He is absolutely hilarious and can stretch a tiny story into an epic hour-long laugh fest.

I made these chicken wings last week after coming home belligerently drunk after a night on the Stoop. The kind of drunk that makes you call your friends the next day to apologize for last night. Anyway, I was really hungry when I came home and decided to make an entire box of chicken wings. Everything was going as planned: I set my timer for 30 minutes so that I could nap until I had to flip them in the oven. So I woke up, flipped the wings, and went back to sleep - sans timer! I woke up the next morning to the smell of barbecue. I had a big smile on my face because I thought my wings were done. Turns out they were done after about four hours of being in the oven! My brother woke me up to question what I was up to the night before, and informed me that he took out the wings around 6:00am that morning after going to the bathroom. Even after a week, my condo still smells like honey garlic. Look at those things! They look like petrified dino-turds.

Carribana was fun. I saw a really good steel drum band competition down at the Harborfront Center. This is easily the biggest singular cultural festival in Toronto. Although I didn't get to experience the parade, I did notice the extra million people flooding the streets and the nonstop partying in the streets until all hours of the morning. Darn Jamaicans!





This was taken outside of the Famous Red Rooster in Burlington during our mini-tour this summer. Although the pay is decent, the staff is nice, and the food is good, the crowds are terrible. Being heckled is brutal. If I could, I would take every narrow-minded, drunk, arrogant, American Eagle, jock asshole and let Jeffry Dahmer make cool new suits out of them. If you don't know who Jeffry Dahmer is, look it up, because it'll make that joke a lot funnier to you. Either way, I don't think we'll be playing there any time soon.

I challenged myself when taking this photo above. Bike said he was only going to run through the sprinkler if I took a decent shot of it. Well, the Waco Kid strikes again. Not only was it completely dark out (allowing zero visibility to focus), but he was running full speed at the thing, giving me no time! Needless to say, I want to blow up that photo and hang it over my couch.
Below is a photo taken standing between the median on University Ave. before entering Queen's Park. It's pretty tight in the middle, so it's fun to lay there and listen to cars zing past your head with friends late at night.


The other night I was walking home from a friends house when I was approached by a confused-looking man. He was a trustworthy-looking guy with a very thick European accent. He asked me if there were any stores open that would sell him liquor. It was 3:30 in the morning. I laughed and told him that's not how it works in Canada, and that not even a restaurant would sell him booze by this point. He looked very disappointed because I'm pretty sure he promised some people that he would return back to the hotel with some hooch. I saw the confusion in his eyes and desperation and said "Hey! Come on upstairs, I think I've got a little whiskey left." So we did. Turns out, the guys name was Juraj Lehotský. He was a Slovakian director and was in the city to premier his film at the Toronto International Film Festival. I snapped this photo of him below.

Juraj was an extremely nice guy. Through his broken, drunk english there was a lot of truth and passion for his work and life. He's married and recently became a father in his hometown of Bratislava. We sat and drank straight whiskey until the sun came up, talking about his film and how girls can tear you a new one. His film Blind Loves is a beautiful full-length documentary on blind couples living with the struggles only communication through limited senses. He gave me a couple tickets to the premier, where we met again and laughed about the previous events.

With the camera out, his directorial instincts took hold and he began snapping. He got down on his knees like Fredrico Fellini and snapped this photograph of me. I tried to explain to him how that camera works, and that there is no auto focus. I'm guessing through his drunk-goggles he assumed the photo would be as clear as a bell. Either way, I love it and feel quite privileged that such an accomplished filmmaker took my photo. I don't know, it's just neat to me.

come on everyone, lets see some smoke

For starters, I've finally finished making some adjustments on the photos I took for the 5x4 performance last month. I don't believe I've mentioned this performance on this blog before, but it was a stellar performance orchestrated by my two good friends Cara and Alicia. They approached me about photographing the event, to which I immediately agreed. We've worked together on a couple projects in the past with great success. The girls are lovely to work with and produce wonderful work.

5x4 was a performance piece that involved 20 performers interacting with 20 regular household items for over an hour. Each person was given a taped-off section, amongst a grid of other performers, to interact, personify and become involved with the item of their choice. Objects ranged from garbage cans, armchairs, mannequins, tables, books, to coat racks. Abstract soundscapes played and each person climbed, wrestled, lifted, and moved their object to it's within it's physical limits.

I was actually quite disappointed to hear that this would be a one-time performance. Each and every onlooker was fully engaged in this very physical performance. Although wildly entertaining and interesting, time is money and these spaces are not cheap to rent. At least the performance will live on through photographic proof.

Speaking of photography; this experience was actually a rare treat to capture from behind the lens. For a minute it almost felt like one of those silly tutorials that camera shows will put on where they'll have one or two well-lit models in a studio setting that fat old white guys will photograph to their hearts content, except on a much larger scale. The treat was that I had free range to photograph 20 individuals freely in a beautifully lit setting. I decided to avoid the distractions of flash photography, and went fully manual to avoid that "beep" when using auto-focus. I definitely did not want to be "that guy" who's clicking, flashing, and stepping on everyone throughout the entire performance.

The rest of the photos can be viewed on my flickr account at:

www.flickr.com/filmsnotdead