should have been a writer

Haircuts Are Kind Of Like Avocado's

By Andy Schmidt

Haircuts are kind of like avocado's.
You're excited when you first get it, and it usually costs a small fortune.
It's hard to pick which one you want.
It looks great, but there's something just not right about it.
You think it will grow faster by keeping it in the sun more,
and by the time it's just the way you want it,
it's fucking ruined.

The End.

hitchhiker's guide

After so many major consequtive purchases, I literally have a few dollars to my name at the moment. When asked if I wanted to go out tonight by my dear friend Kudzai, one story came to mind immediately.

The story of a penniless, stranded Douglas Adams and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy goes as follows:

"Adams claimed that the title came from a 1971 incident while he was hitchhiking around Europe as a young man with a copy of the Hitch-Hiker's Guide to Europe book, and while lying drunk in a field in Innsbruck with a copy of the book and looking up at the stars, thought it would be a good idea for someone to write a hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy as well."

The book went on to sell more than 14 million copies.

I plan to do something similar tonight.

I'm literally going to take the twenty dollar bill in my pocket and blow it on beer with one of my best friends in effort to drink and dance my way into some flash-of-genius-stupor that will send my artistic career into another (if any) stratosphere.

I really enjoy putting myself in holes like this. At times I consider money to be simply a privilege; something to be enjoyed and dealt with at a later date. It's one of the great freedoms we allow ourselves to relish in: the ability to do whatever we want with our earnings. The simple fact about money that doesn't scare me one bit goes like this:

I know I'm not going to die.

I have food in my house and money coming my way in various directions. I know I'm not going to go hungry or homeless tonight, so it's time to put my inspiration on the stove and let it cook for a while.

balance

I just printed everything I've written over the past year.

It's 57 pages and over 27,000 words.

It's actually quite liberating to have that much written material in your hands.

I think over the break I'll read and re-evaluate key points and questions, and maybe use those towards something bigger and more concise. Because, if I were to go back and elaborate on most of the ideas and questions presented, the number of pages could have doubled.

I'd love for some other writers out there to try the same, and maybe an exchange could be made.

Use All Your Shit!

If I were to have my own cookbook, the cover would be exactly Phoebe Gilman's Something From Nothing, except the old mans face would be substituted with my own.

When I cook, I can literally take anything in my house and make it into something relatively tasty. It's always been that way. Mind you, I wasn't so good at it when I didn't know anything about balance, texture, flavor bases or combination, but I still tried.

I've always wanted to have my own cooking show called Use All Your Shit!
It would go like so: I would show up to peoples houses (not invite myself over like that Australian prick on Take Home Asshole), to which I would open their fridge and pantry doors and concoct something delicious out of what they thought was "nothing".

I'll give you an example of this.

As of now, and for the past few days, I've had virtually nothing in my fridge. Lets say I had five items in there at most.

Last night I made deep fried vegetarian spring rolls with cheese, a homemade batter and even a dipping sauce from scratch.

Tonight I made a rosemary-infused cream of chicken soup with spinach, red onion, and diced carrots. For dessert I had a puree of strawberries and maple syrup on toast with a glass of red wine.

I swear to you - if you looked in my fridge you'd see nothing but stray bags of barely-there vegetables, a stick of butter, and rolls of film. I'm not normally the type to gloat, but I'm really fucking good at being creative in the kitchen. I could make you a roast chicken out of shards of glass if I wanted to.

ps. Except for that one time: I made Mike eat this "casserole" I made that was made only from wonder bread, sliced ham, white onion, and egg. That was fucking horrendous, and crunching into that burden still haunts me to this day. Sorry Mike.

the secret machine

Sunday's, believe it or not, are usually the most eventfull day in my week. I'll try to put myself into harms way as much as possible.

After clearing my head from last nights mosh-fest with a good old sleep in, I decided it was time for a proper meal. I settled on a breakfast of homemade hash browns, bacon, carmelized onions, creamed spinach, and fried eggs. This took forever because I haven't fully figured out how to make perfect hash browns yet (recipes are my enemy). I cook by trial and error.
Once I was done eating I called my mum and lovingly wished her a happy Mother's Day. She deserves every bit of it, because I have the best mum on the planet, no matter how much you argue with me.

Now, something I usually do with my Sunday's is to go for a nice long walk. This walk usually starts somewhere around St. Clair station, as I will take the subway up there on the Yonge line, just to walk home. However, I decided this was too short for my liking and headed west on Bloor St. I had a savage headache at the time. Listening to Stockholm Syndrome on full blast didn't help too much either, but who cares?

Upon walking into the Annex, I decided visit the local BMV. Here, I do as I usually do in any book store: walk to the travel and maps section. To be totally honest, I have no idea why this happens. It is simply the most attractive section of any book store to me. I think books on travel and maps are romantic and mysterious, full of honesty and curiosity. I have a serious love for old world exploration maps. I'll go into further detail about this love at another time.

Around this time, I got a call from John Bean. Oh John, my friend. We decided to meet up for a pint a half an hour from the time of his call, so it was time to get some food first.

I stopped by the local Ginger to grab a quick bite. It was here that I also experienced my latest panic attack. I should first mention that panic attacks are nothing new to me. I used to get them quite predictibly when I was young. I couldn't watch an IMAX movie without having a freak-out session. The sheer size of the screen would cause panic. Yet they have become less frequent, thankfully, over the past several years. But by god are they horrible. It feels like a bad drug trip without the excuse. With drugs you can at least convince yourself that there are powers at work that are beyond your control. When it's a straight-up panic attack it's scarier because it's just you and your mind working against each other.


These are your usual symptoms:

• Rapid heart beat, pounding heart or palpitations
• Sweating
• Shaking visibly or inside
• Choking sensations or lump in throat
  
• Smothering or shortness of breath sensations
• Nausea, bloating, indigestion or abdominal discomfort
• Dizziness or unsteadiness
• Feeling light-headed
• Derealization (feeling unreal or dreamy)
• Depersonalization (feeling outside yourself or like you don't exist)
• Fear of losing control or going crazy
• Paresthesias (numbness or tingling sensations) in face, extremities or body
• Chills or hot flushes
• Skin losing color
• Blushing or skin blotches

However some symptoms are more present than others, the major symptoms I experience are Derealization, Depersonalization, and Paresthesias (and not because they are all big words). There may be others but I am almost always alone when they occur.

Basically, try to imagine that your head is floating, severed from your body, and that you aren't even present existentially. The only way to remind yourself that you have arms and legs is to either attempt moving them or to pinch them, just to remind you that they are still there. Anti-gravitational pull seems to take effect and you'll feel like you're about to be sucked into the ceiling at top speed. You can't read, you can't hear a thing, and the person you thought you were is reduced to a pile of functionless matter. Everything shakes, and everything is scary; even the comics section of the paper you so dearly love.

Luckily, the thought of seeing John kept me grounded enough to stomach my meal and meet him at Bathurst station.

Long story short: we went to the Green Room, downed a few jugs of Tankhouse, and chatted each other up. John is a great listener. He lets me chew his ears off. We talk a lot about film, hip hop, girl problems, old friends, modern day technological problems, and things that make us laugh - amongst other things. Our usual policy is: meet for a beer when the sun is up, leave our beer when the sun is down. Tonight was no different. John is one of those friends that I know I'll be checking out girls with when we're 60. I can just see it coming.



Regardless, that was my Sunday. How was yours?

bonjournal

First off, the Alex P. Keaton is fucking closing? What the hell is this about? For those of you that read this and know what's going on, please inform me. That was one of the last good bars in London, not to mention places to eat. I'll miss the Duck Quesadillas with Cranberry Sauce and Barnyard Sliders with Deep-Fried Pickles the most. Having performed there on many occasions and seen many great performances from the audience, I can truly say I'll miss this venue (even though I've always hated the non-existent stage, cramped quarters, and truly terrible acoustics). Farewell Alex. P Keaton. You satisfied my dark beer love for so many nights. 

 

Last night, after an epic six-man/woman jam at the Glasgow house, a bunch of us went out for beers. Dan was telling me that there was something happening in the upstairs section of the bar, so we investigated. This happening turned out to be a party for the deaf. We payed for the cover, received a complimentary chocolate bar (for some reason), and grabbed a drink. To be honest, this turned out to be more interesting than our friends who were waiting for us downstairs. The music was extra-loud and full of bass, which we could only assume was to serve the purpose of vibrations. The image itself was quite incredible: a sea of people from all backgrounds and ages, enjoying a drink, conversing all through the use of hands and body language. That's the kind of stuff that makes me tick, in the good way. I'm actually somewhat glad the demographic was hearing impaired, as I was chewing Dans ear off about how we are all singular beings, or some drunken bullshit like that.

My brother is currently taking a sushi-making course in London. This is oh so funny to me. He is literally going to master the art of sushi making and move to Michigan for the summer to make sushi at a seafood restaurant. To me, this is going to be another one of those things that I'll look back on and say, "Remember when Bike was a sushi chef in the States for that whole summer?" This is just as random as the fact that he lived in Japan, was valedictorian twice, played football at the Skydome, starred in a school play, and almost died after passing out in a snow bank. Just pile that story on top of the rest. Oh Bike, so hilarious. 

Speaking of which, we were eating sushi at Echo this afternoon and decided to share a few stories with Blair about our drive together through the Australian desert. One of the most memorable stories was the time we decided to take a shortcut that would end up saving us nearly 4 hours. This shortcut turned out to be an incredibly dangerous sand road that would take us within reaching distance of "nowhere". It was so bumpy and our van was so shitty that we honestly feared for our lives. I compared the road to something you would see in Mario Kart, and that it wouldn't be surprising to see a red turtle shell flying at you. Once the drive was over everything within the van had a layer of red dirt, including us. We washed our faces later that night and the sinks turned red. 

I scored some more free books from Glen yesterday, including:

LIFE World Library - China

The World of the American Indian

The Adventures of Robin Hood - Charles Vivian 

The Moon is Down - Steinbeck 

Civilisation - Kenneth Clark

Style and Structure

By Any Means Necessary - Malcolm X

Wilderness Canada

Canada - The Founders and the Guardians

The Taming of the Shrew

Knots - R.D. Laing

Son of the Morning Star - Evan S. Connell

Arms and the Man - Bernard Shaw

Astronomy Today

Most of these books have a lot of pictures, which I'll usually look at in the studio when I'm either taking a break from painting or letting something dry, except for that one Malcolm X book, which was a weird call on my part, but it was free!

Dan turned me onto a program called Mojo, which is awesome. Basically, you can seamlessly share songs with people through your iTunes account. You just add whomever you'd like to share with, sign on, and bam! You're free to take any of their music from the comfort of your home. However, you cannot share songs purchased from iTunes, but that only makes sense. I wouldn't want anyone to have tracks that I paid for, not that I buy much music online anyway, because I think that is silly when you can have tangible copies for just as much. I'd love to share my music with anyone who contacts me, so just drop a line. Here's a link for the download:   http://deusty.com/software/mac.php  

be well. 

Glen

I spent some time with Glen today. 

Glen used to run a great book stand on College Street, but was forced out of his home because he is a schizophrenic and just can't seem to throw away any of his stuff. So, naturally, his place was full of junk and was evicted late last year. We're good friends, and can usually be seen playing chess or drinking coffee in some alley sorting through his book collection that exceeds 20,000. I took this picture early this fall, documenting the last night of the bookstand. He used to live in the Yukon and staked claims for gold during the late gold rush. He easily has the best catalog of stories out of any single individual I know.

Since Glen's eviction, he's been looking for buyers and places to donate all his books, which has actually been a somewhat sad process to watch for the both of us. Earlier today, Glen greeted me with a box and told me to fill it with as many books as I can, free of charge. I jumped at the chance and rummaged furiously through his collection. Some of the books I nabbed include.

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain

Talk Talk Talk - Jay Ingram

Recipes for Ground Beef

Animals in Renaissance Art

James Bond - Moonraker

some social science book entirely written in Spanish

Bill Cosby: Autobiography - Bill Cosby

Shakespearian Antagonists: A Critical Essay

and then some books with really nice covers, dating around 1914

makes sense

I had the day off today, so I decided to go for a walk. I was craving two things: food and books. I decided to blow my finances on only one of the options and not both, so I decided to go for books. Fortunately, I live only a couple blocks from the World's Biggest Book Store. I've always liked the analogy (when explaining distances), that I could hold my breath from my front door and run there without stopping for another. That's just how close it is.

I had only one book in mind that I wanted to buy, The Revised and Updated Painters Handbook. I've read nearly the entire book at the library, written notes, and copied the important diagrams into my sketchbook, but still decided on owning the real deal.
I also picked up another book, one that I never thought I'd care for until reading the table of contents. The third edition of The Business of Being an Artist covers such topics as:

Exhibitions and the art of selling art (media attention, selling publicly/privately, taxes, the value of a marketing plan)
Relationships with Dealers (finding representatives, bad debts and recoveries, consignment)
Expansion (licensing, self-publishing, publisher incentive,
Commissions (percent-of-art projects, the efforts to contain public art controversy, jurors and bias)

etc., etc.

Another book I came upon unexpectedly was actually the type of book I'd been looking for for some while now. I can't recall the name, but the gist was the hazards and health concerns that come with producing art, mainly dealing with materials, mediums, (and the topic of my concern) solvents.

I sat for nearly an hour looking over charts on different solvents and their properties, harmful or not. I found some information on one that I use quite regularly: turpentine. Now, I should mention that I am not ignorant to the fact that I know what some of these chemicals are capable of doing to my body, I was just seeking further knowledge. One major effect that I came across was something that not only shocked me, but answered a lot of questions as well.
ASTHMA.

That's correct.
For the past 8-12 months I suspected something was amiss in my body. I should have guessed when my CN Tower Stair Climb time jumped from 18 minutes to 26 in two years (all the while, I was living and producing art in Toronto). I constantly find myself out of breath, clutching my chest, and just an overall feeling of discomfort. I originally attributed this to mild heart problems, which is something I've been known to have since being young.
Among asthma, the book listed liver problems and skin irritation, although I would conclude that any liver problems I may have are due to Olde English.

Along with the change of solvents I'll have to make, there have been many big changes in the studio space, which I will elaborate on probably later this afternoon.

be well.