i can see claritin now my rash is gone

After four days of incredible partying, dancing (my legs are whooped) and Valentineage, the dust has settled, slightly. I'll be heading back home for a few days later this afternoon, mostly with intention to visit family, friends, and shoot my term project.

This will most likely entail the drainage of my savings, seeing as I'm purchasing a brand new Sigma wide-angle lens for my digital body. But hey, that shit lasts forever, and who doesn't want a wide-angle lens anyway? Hopefully when I'm home I'll shake this cold, which has been perpetual for over a month now. On top of that, last night I experienced my all-time worst allergic reaction. A dark red rash spread over the upper half of my body covering my face, chest, neck, and arms. Seeing as I was scared shitless, I called my dad at 6 a.m. (karaoke, you understand), to which he granted me some sound advice and went to sleep.


The funny thing about this all is that I photographed the whole process, because I thought I was about to die. I showed my dad these photos and he wants to use them as allergic reaction examples when he teaches. Always glad to be of service.


The shitty thing about this is that I have no idea what I was allergic to. I came home after the bar and made my usual feast: oven-toasted pita with pepper, pan fried portobello mushrooms, arugula, hummus, and a big glass of pink lemonade. What the hell was I allergic to? I threw everything out this morning, including the giant pitcher of pink lemonade, which may have been the culprit of it all. Bummer, 'cause I love the pink.

But alas, after taking some Claritin, my face is back to normal. I also now have an epi pen.

bright, bright lights

Sometimes when I'm really hungry, over caffeinated, hung over or head-rushed, I see stars.

I'm sure this happens to a lot of people.

Yet the strangest thing is that within the last month the stars have changed color.

They used to be white lights, now they're blue.

I don't really know what this means, just as long as they don't turn into psycho-red dots.

amazing!

Before leaving for home, I decided that it would be a good idea to deep clean the house. Here in Toronto, the garbage system outside of waste and recycling also has a bin for organic compost. Seeing as I hadn't changed my bin in a while, it was go time.

There must have been some seriously rotten shit in there, because as soon as I removed the bag from the bin, I barfed!! Blluughghhaaaahhhuuuuwwa!!! Amazing! It smelled so rotten that I barfed right there on my lino floor!

I think barfing is the funniest shit ever. One time my dogs got sprayed by a skunk back home and the sheer smell of the skunky-dogs getting washed in the tub made my sister barf. I thought that was amazing.

I've never personally barfed from smell alone, until about ten minutes ago. It happened instantly. So rad.

I've never had a big problem with barfing. Most of my close friends know this. I used to barf on purpose after big nights of binge drinking, just so I wouldn't feel like shit in the morning. I don't do it anymore. Come to think of it, I've gone through all kinds of drinking ritual phases. Two sweet barfing instances come to mind: one was with Tiff on the Nathan Phillips Square ice rink last winter after drinking super expired McDonalds milk (one halfwit security guard thought we were bulimic, so I made him smell the milk), and the second with Meme in the city hall parking lot on top of a Smart Car, which subsequently led to Meme spewing the most amazing rice barf of all time.

Barf is awesome. Don't be afraid of it, unless you have the flu, then prepare for shittyness.

Honorable Mention goes to Lwam last Saturday night at the Madison, which was based on a gag reflex rather than drunkenness. Beautiful Heinekin barf cascading down a set of wooden stairs followed by the roar of 20 screaming jocks? RAD TO THE BONER.

that makes a bakers dozen

Cracked lung strikes again!

For those of you who have been reading this blog for more than a year, this may sound familiar to you.

That's right. Pneumonia again!
This time it hit me like a shit-ton of bricks. No warning, no sloppy nose work, no headaches.

Just BAM! Right into the lungs it goes, without leaving behind the sweatiest chills and worst obstructed sleeps I've ever and.

However, I'm quick on the antibiotics and should be back to my psychotically busy life in no time.

yogurt

Come September, I think I'll start doing some yoga.

I sat down the other day and really micro-managed my mental health and realized:

Although on the surface I consistently appear calm, my soul races with stress on the inside.

I think this has been the case for quite some time. It has always (ever since I can remember) been my style to just shrug things off and let them resolve itself in my head, mainly when I sleep. My family has always known this, and I am occasionally called "a fart in a windstorm", mostly because I just drift through life seamlessly without a care in the world.

Until recently, I realized differently.
There is a small sign in the gym, here in my condo. It states:

Stress can be related to 90% of all illness.

True or not, it scared the shit out of me.

Maybe I've lived so strongly by my carefree lifestyle for so long, I've neglected the possibility of having any stress in my life at all. Now that I do, I have no idea what to do with it. I usually play my music loud enough in my headphones to drown out any concrete thoughts that may come floating in. My mom wants me to see a therapist because, after all, my personal life took a huge beating these past two years. I've never been too keen on the whole idea, probably because I'm old school and think therapy is an expensive way of dealing with your problems. After all this I can only rationalize one thought:

Isn't life fucking sweet, folks?

Just when you thought you were as cool as can be, life switches the picture and smacks you on the head. Just when you thought life was all figured out, your mind throws a stick in the spokes and tells you to handle it. I'm fine with that, because the path to self-discovery is like finally learning how to factor or long-divide numbers in Grade 11 math. When you realize something is wrong, what else is there to do than to tackle that motherfucker and get to the bottom of it? You can ignore it all you like. Shit, I've done it for most of my life.

I'm pretty sure there is a literal mass of neglected stress, stories, memories, and images stored somewhere in my body. It has to have created mass by now. I'm assuming it's either in my brain, my stomach, my heart, or my balls. Wherever it may be, it's time for a reduction.

So maybe some yoga will do.

my heart sweats

The results are in:

My Heart Is Okay

...to a certain extent.


For instance, my standing heart rate is (and I guessed it right on the money) 90.

Yours is probably around 70.

On top of that, the night I had the monitor on, we performed under the highest temperatures ever felt by Hue on stage. Apparently around the time of our set, my heart rate hit 194 bpm.

That's more than three times a second, got that?

So the plan is business as usual: Less beer, less salt, less caffeine.
I've been following that lifestyle for the past few months, along with some extended exercise.

I think I'm going to go celebrate by drinking a pint of Guinness at Molly's, while enjoying some free wireless internet - looking for a place to live.

No Need To Read This Next Bit

We're back in town

London that is. After leaving Halifax, we thought we might as well drive all the way home, all at once. 27 hours, three caffeinated drinks, four tanks of gas, and more fast food than I'd like to mention later, and we're home. The thing about the energy drinks is that I couldn't get to sleep once my driving shift of four hours was up, so I never slept. I can distinctly recall driving through the GTA around sunup, barely there. My body shut down completely, while leaving me with enough energy to understand whether I was going to crash into another vehicle or not.
The funny thing was, I didn't sleep for most of the day once arriving home. I still haven't fully recovered from that night. Remind me to tell you a funny moose story later as well...

The Wooden Sky

The same night we arrived, we went to go see The Wooden Sky perform in Paterson's backyard. Awesome show. Not only did we get to drink Olde E for the first time in months, we saw a ton of old friends and met a lot of great people. I even saw the boys from my old band The Dustbowl Refugees, which I'll detail at a later date. Check TWS out for sure. Super psyched on their new record.

Golf, Big Time

Myself and the boys went golfing yesterday in St. Catherines. It was Dan's first game and he killed it. Well done my man. It pissed rain nearly the entire time, but we played anyway. Darcy and I both had flying-club incidents, which caused me to "peek" in laughter (which means it doesn't get any louder). I won closest to the pin on a hole, which is always nice. My prize money payed for gas on the way home. Dan and I also cleaned up in the prize draws, taking home the majority of the gifts. I fucking love golf. Alright? I LOVE IT.

Family Time

It's quite rare for me to have any quality time with my family when I come home. I'm usually rehearsing, eating at King's Inn Diner, visiting friends, attending whatever event, or curing a hangover. There's really not enough hours in the day to see everyone. Luckily for this weeks visit, I have plenty of time. Made tortellini prima vera for dad, visiting gram for the first time in a dogs age, made bbq'd corn salad and butter chicken for my ladies, and driving around town with my sister listening to Jackson mix tapes. Awesome.

Retro

By god, was that ever an interesting night.

The Heart

I've mentioned it a hundred times over: I have a bum ticker. It's not all that bad, it just gives me shit every once in a while. There's nothing like the feeling your palpitating heart is about to explode out of your chest. I'd arranged to have an Electrocardiogram with my dad about a week ago, which took place this morning. Everything looked pretty normal, save for my pulse, which pumps around 89 beats per minute, sitting down. Later this afternoon I have an appointment with a cardiologist to have a 48 hour heart monitor installed onto my chest. This is funny to me, considering we have a show to play tomorrow night, and I plan to beat the living shit out of my drums. Hopefully it doesn't run out of batteries and die like the last one. Electrodes are so much fun.

The Beard

I've never heard so many mixed reviews about anything. My beard has hit an all time record in length. Some people think it's handsome, others think it's burly and and out of character. Even last night, two ex-girlfriends of two years gave me polar-opposite reviews. What the hell? Maybe it was too radical a change for some and they're just not used to it. Either way, I'm going to keep it for at least another week I think. At least until I can't take the ridicule.

Haircut

I got a haircut yesterday. I proper haircut. One that I didn't do. My hair was a little pissed I think. I can't remember the last haircut I got professionally. However, it did feel good to get my head rubbed by some cute 'dresser. I think I'm going to marry a hair stylist just so I can get my head rubbed every once in a while. When I was young, my mom would brush my hair to get me to sleep. There's something about that brush that just conks me out. Looks good though.

Travel Tick

My career, no matter what it eventually may be, will not be boring by a long shot. Even as I sat in the waiting room today, my skin crawled with the notion of a desk job. The kind of job where the only things that excite you throughout the day are the fan turning on and off, lunch breaks, having to take a piss, and maybe the dirty magazine you keep in your filing cabinet. No thanks, not for me.
Even after being home for only days after traveling, I want back out. The thrills were all there on this trip: the strangers, the scrounging, the filth, the distance. I travel quite a bit for someone my age, only because I allow myself to. I have no sympathy for those who are jealous, because I have no more opportunity than the next person. Initiative is what separates the do'ers from the dreamers. All it takes is some simple planning, some vision, some money, and you're off. Don't wait for your friends to finish three years of school, just go get it.

On that note, I have to go clean the trailer. In two hours I'll be a robot.

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?

UPDATED - move it or use it

For starters, that's my third and newest cast. Well, it's a splint for arguments sake. I'm incredibly happy about this, and why? It's removable! Velcro, son. It also makes me look like a stormtrooper. Gone are the dark ages of bag-shower-dickhead. I can actually now wash myself with two hands like a big boy. The best part about this is that I'll be able to remove it whenever I please for my trip, within reason. I don't want to royally mangle my hand by leaving it off too long and cause another alignment problem, which lead to the most painful medical procedure I've ever endured. I won't go into that for the sake of those reading who choose not to see their lunches for a second time.

On top of all that, I think I'm inches away from pneumonia again, which is funny because it made me realize something.
Every new years eve I'll attempt to forecast what the theme for the year will be. Two years ago was the Year of Disguise, last year was the S.H.I.T. acronym, and this year is Personal Injury! I might as well roll with all these defects because it's actually quite comedic from my point of view. But enough about that.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I will be participating in the annual CN Tower stair climb tomorrow. Quite frankly, I haven't thought about my vacation hardly at all because my mind and body have been fixated on this ridiculous personal challenge. I have been exercising my legs and lungs constantly for the past two weeks and, apparently to some, have lost some weight. I thought that was due to not wanting to eat because of my hand, but who knows.

To me, this climb isn't about pandas at all. I can guarantee you I'll never use that last sentence ever again for as long as I live. But sure, the money raised (thanks DP and Flip') is for a good cause, yet I approach it a lot more personally. In the end they give you your elapsed time and you get to see either how in shape you are from walking and exercising daily, or how unhealthy you are from drinking Olde E, eating Starbucks food, smoking casually on the stoop, a ten pound weight increase, and inadvertently huffing oil paint fumes on a daily basis.

Seeing as this is my fourth straight climb (past times include 22:41, 18:13, and 26:02 minutes), it's anyones guess what will happen. If I bomb I'll just blaming it on being sick because I currently have no lung capacity. I'll post my time on this blog tomorrow morning before my flight leaves. Predictions are welcome. I'm going to ballsilly (not a real word) predict 25:00 minutes.


one day later....And that kids is how you climb a fucking tower. Turns out I'm not so out of shape after all.
Kudos to friend and karaoke all-star John Ainey for pulling together an admirable time of a little more than 16 minutes.

plaster sandwich

Well, I have since had an upgrade and it is surely more stable than the last. This addition has made me realize many things, some of which I will now go into detail about.

. It has been a very interesting learning curve so far. Actually, I should say re-learning curve. I am slowly realizing what I can and cannot perform with my right hand. For instance, these are the things you wouldn't think would be difficult, but actually are: grinding pepper, getting your wallet out of jeans, tying shoelaces, grating cheese, all bathroom activities, shaking hands, answering the phone, writing, typing, riding a bike and holding pretty much anything.

. It's really warm. I never think to wear gloves when it's cold, (not that a glove would ever fit). I can even avoid using oven mits at times.

. It is relatively bad ass. People really second look when they see a busted hand protruding from a jacket sleeve. It's just among one of those cool things to have in your hands when walking. The list also includes: hot dogs, a wreath, a coffee, a box of books, a bag of fruit, a christmas tree, a tripod, etc. Either that, or they think I'm an idiot.

. If I had a lady throughout the duration of this cast we would probably have lots of sex. Lots and lots. That's something I would enjoy doing with my time instead of fumbling with paint brushes and roaming around College Park. Nothing like the mambo to take your mind off things.

. Showering is becoming less difficult. Seeing as I can't get my cast wet, I have to do whatever it takes to keep it dry, even if it means asking my Coll-Bev lovers to hoard empty sleeves for me. The only really difficult thing about showering is dispensing soap. How is it done with one hand? Think about how you'd do it. I'll leave you with that image.

. Since I'm not working, I've been forced to conjure up some get-rich-quick schemes. Around my place they call that "The Big Dirty". I always find a way to make giant sums of money really fast, and it pisses off my brother to all hell. He'll work for three months and I'll sell two paintings in a day. Sometimes that horseshoe gets uncomfortable in my ass.

. Half of my shirts don't fit because I can't get my arm through the sleeve.

. The cast will probably affect my stair climb later next week. I use my hands a lot throughout the event when grabbing the rails. Oh! Also, I'm accepting pledges and I'm $25 away from reaching my goal, so if you like to donate to the cause just drop me a line. I'll go into detail about this day later this week.


All in all, this cast has turned out to be a very interesting ride so far. I've never had something so constricting attached to my body for so long, except for that time in Vegas, but that's a whole other story. Every morning I wake up and it just feels like it was all a dream, until I attempt to wiggle my fingers. I guess distance makes the hand grow stronger.

most of the time, my head's just fine

Lately I've been getting a lot of phantom vibes. This is basically the mental phenomenon involving the sensation of your phone either ringing or vibrating, without it ever happening. I'm sure anyone who's owned a phone for more than three months has been a victim of this. I've been experiencing it all too much lately. Even as I sit here writing this, I'm either picking up on certain notes that my phone makes while watching tv, or I'll shift a certain way and can feel phantom vibes in my jeans.

I honestly hate this feeling. Like anything I feel has hit its limits, I'll cut it off. Therefore, I'm going to be leaving my phone off for the next few days. I'll turn it on once a day to respond to any missed calls or texts, but that's about it. Just some time to clear my head, and to stop imagining my ringtone Get Up Offa That Thing every ten minutes.

it's always something

I'm seriously beginning to think that my body is trying to meet some sort of quota for how many things can go wrong with me in one year.

The other night I bailed stepping over a parking block and allowed my right hand, my favorite, to take the brunt of the fall. I must have crushed the shit out of it because it is currently about the size of a softball and the swelling is so thick that I can't tell if it's broken or not. The palm of my hand is slowly turning darker and the pain is almost nauseating at times.
Don't get me wrong, I can still use it. I'm just worried that it might be broken. That would be amazing because we play a show in two weeks and I can't really afford to take time off work. I also don't like icing it when I sleep because the coldness seems to give me nightmares.

triple-step-stairs

It's been a hectic few days, I guess?

My pneumonia is nearly cleared up, which is good, because I'm really tired of babying about it.

Meme came over yesterday while I was painting. We decided to drink wine all afternoon and listen to Portishead. Later, we had a show in Hamilton at The Casbah. Getting there was a story in itself. In classic fashion, we left late and took a cab to Union Station. Thanks to my pro GO Train skills, we got to the ticket office promptly. Once there (and within two minutes of our departure), I had a few quick questions for the boothman. He began pulling out maps and schedules and tinkered away on his computer to re-answer all my questions, and all I could think of was "Duuuude just give me the tickets and let us out of here." Needless to say, Darce and I ran to the bus and made it on within, lets say, 15 seconds.
Once there, we chilled with the guys from Hollerado (hilarious road stories) and knocked out a solid set to a great crowd in a tiny room that smelt like burnt coffee.

Show notables:
- My mom came, and it was her birthday yesterday. That was super awesome of her.
- I experienced a mild case of slidey-drums, which happens to me a lot at small clubs for some reason. That's when you hit a drum and it slides further, and further away each time.
- Super thanks to Cory and Arshea for bringing the gear. Arshea I hope you liked my perscription drugs as a thanks. You rule.
- The Casbah didn't give us free beer? I'm pretty sure that hasn't happened at a venue in over a year.

Once the show was over, the guys wanted to stay the night at a friends. I said hell no because I was epically tired from the show and the traveling and decided to come back home solo. Oh, and I also almost missed that bus by about ten seconds. I sat at the front which is my favorite seat on the bus, which I recommend to everyone traveling by Greyhound.

Aside from all the music mumbo-jumbo, I've been painting as much as possible lately. I have a show in Scarborough at the end of May, and then another big show at Vdara for the month of June. I'll also be in Europe for two weeks in April, which will cut down on a lot of potential canvas time. I figured it out the other day: In order to produce as much quality work as possible for both these shows (and I want them to be the best I've ever created), I'll have to paint for at least three hours, every day, until the beginning of May. Cheers to that.

Okay, I'll cut this here because I'm thinking of bigger things to write about, and I really don't want good topics to be buried under talk of GO Trains.

face faucet

At it again, once again. Just when I thought I was in the clear, another cold grabs me tight and takes control of me. My face is leaking from all possible holes (except ears, gross), and my chest has that pre-pneumonia-heaviness that is all-too familiar to me. Here's a few things I'd like to share about colds and me.

- For starters, I don't really believe in cold medicine. Having grown up the son of a family doctor, I've been pumped full of meds, drugs, pills, antibiotics, needles, thermometers, and swabs for my most of my youth. Now that I'm away from home and these things aren't readily available to me, I just ride it out and let the progression happen. Which leads me to my next point.

- I've never minded being sick. Sure, it's inconvenienced me in the past, but I don't like to whine about it. Feeling like a sack of shit is actually good for you, I think. Getting better is almost something to look forward to, and puts into perspective how nice being healthy really is.

- I like the change in diet that happens when a cold strikes. All of a sudden, everything turns from black coffee to herbal tea and honey. Red meat becomes red beets. Corona and lime becomes water and lemon. The Vietnamese delicatessen Ginger 2 becomes Ginger Tea. Again, the healing process is a lot more interesting when you're actually taking physical steps to improve your health. It's a nice switch up.

- One thing I don't like is how unproductive being sick can be. Today, for example, was a beautiful day to paint and I had everything ready with a good idea on what the piece would look like, until I saw my bed. The very idea of resting sank in, and I found myself taking a three hour nap.

- The natural progression of my colds goes as so (in order of appearance): sore throat, hearing loss, full face of mucus, congested chest. My favorite of these symptoms is the congested chest. Not only is it the grossest thing ever when hearing that crackle-cough, but you actually feel like your getting rid of the cold when you muscle out a big brown loogee (lougeeh, lewgie, loogie, and lugi were all other guesses on the spelling of that word).

- I get pneumonia, like clockwork, about once every two years on average. The term I created for this is that "I'm prone to pnuemone". Usually around the same week of the same month, I'll get it. I think this year I'll cap-off around a bakers dozen on how many times I've had the illness. Speaking of which, remember when Bernie Mac died of pneumonia last year? That was easily the worst celebrity death ever. Pneumonia? Are we still in the dark ages? I'm pretty sure Bernie Mac had way more access to proper medication than I do, although I'm sure that wasn't the case.
Either way, I'm bound to check out one of these years, when the mucus seeps a little too deep into my lungs and I'll be too macho to ask for meds.

R.I.P. Eastwood Mac and Bernie Mac

hi, i'm a mac

Yeah yeah yeah yeah, new laptop. Fairly excited.
I found it really strange when I was asked about my new computer, to which my response was pretty unenthusiastic. But really, what is there to get excited about when your computer has nothing on it? Photo Booth is fun, because I can make crazy faces, but other than that I'm still getting used to the platform. Macs are funny machines. Everything is quite streamlined, but it's like learning to ride a bike again. I've been rocking on windows so long that I know no other way around. So yes, it will be a many days reading manuals and playing around with hotkeys, which is kind of fun. One thing weird about this computer is that the "v" key is HYPER SENSITIVE. By that I mean I just have to touch the key, not even press, and the fucker clicks. So I've been seeing all these v's spread out randomly through my writings, and if I leave my finger on the key without looking, a huge mess of v's show up, like this vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv. I probably changed some sensitivity settings without thinking, or not.
Aside from that, I plan on acquiring some nifty programs: Photoshop, Logic Pro, Final Cut, all the Garage Band Jam Packs (thanks Dan), and maybe something else nifty. Even with the new machine, I still do not plan on downloading music, mostly just because I feel bad when I do. Sometimes I feel that if I can't afford it, I shouldn't hear it, which is rediculous in many ways and I could analyze that to death, but I won't.

Lately, I feel as though I've been in horrible overall health. Not only do I feel like I'm going to faint all the time, but I've been getting short flu flashforwards. My knee painfully buckled yesterday when walking, which is incredibly random because I've never experienced any sort of injury down there. Other than that, my friend Aaron and I have decided to become men and grow mustaches, which is really funny because we both have blonde facial hair and we look hilarious because the staches are transparent.

Things I've been into lately:
- the fact that I can learn anything, which is an elementary idea, but it excites me to no end.
- George Carlin. Watch his material online and be enlightened. I'll soon post some favourites of mine.
- Bill O'Reilly (the exact opposite of Carlin). Quite possibly one of the largest assholes on the Fox Planet, but so entertaining to watch and such a flaming patriotic jackhole.
- Considering a degree in fine art.
- Chicago
- Bruce Springsteen's Devils and Dust
- Film. Fuck digital, for the moment.
- Working on my bounce-flash technique (thanks for the tips Jenna)
- new Hue songs
- realising that I don't have to wait until New Years for a resolution
- asking questions, a lot of them.
- drip coffee (ps. since when?)
- the voice recorder on my phone, which I use almost every day. most of it is freestyles.
- freestyling

There, now you know what I'm interested in at the moment. Do you care? The only reason I do is because I can look back on this post one day and laugh about drip coffee and freestyling.

One last thing that is somewhat of interest to me: Taking your current state of personality and analyzing what parts of you came from which parent. That's one thing I'd like to unravel, and I recommend you do the same.

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.