always a good time.

This is what happens when my family gets together with a MacBook close by. This time we were in Jasper, AB.

From left to right: myself, Aunt Laura, Bike, and mom in the background.

Enjoy.

there goes another one

A very, very long time ago I swore to myself that I'd one day learn to play Fleetwood Mac's Never Going Back Again on guitar. There was just something about the song that made me want to know how it's done.

I really didn't know how to play guitar back then. Like, at all. I just remember talking a lot of shit on how I was going to learn that song and blow everyone away, like how people learn one song on piano just to impress their friends when they see one in their living room. But again, I didn't know anything about guitar. I didn't know how to read tablature, what a capo was, and how to tune an instrument any other way.

Now I'm not saying by any means that I'm a pro player today. SO far from it. It's more of a hobby than anything. I'll usually have two guitars in my house at most times that are kept in different tunings, just for fun.
The interesting thing (and yes there is one) is that skills advance over time without even realizing it. Almost how a runner will add a mile to a run without recognizing they'd done it.

Today, I'm sick and bedridden.
I was listening to FM's Rumours and decided to take a solid attempt at learning the song. I simply looked up a cover on some guy playing it on YouTube, figured out the tuning (CGDGBE, so awesome) and figured it out from there. It only took me about 10 minutes to get the patterns right(ish) and it was done. Signed it off the list.

Now, keep in mind that my version is hella-sloppy and I could have practiced for a week until it was pristine, but I was so excited to learn that I had to tell everyone.

Here it goes.

bike bike bike

This video is just hilarious.
Not only does it hit on a somewhat personal level, but the entire inner-city bike culture.
Although this video seems to be geared (no pun) towards downtown bike messengers, anyone who's ridden on a bike at least once on a busy street can relate. Seeing as I ride my bike for usually an hour a day, I can humorously sympathize with the points made.

me and pretty

Almost 2 years ago, I briefly met a gentleman named Bernard Purdie. He was playing a show with Cut Chemist here in Toronto. I shook his hand. To most that doesn't mean much, yet what many don't know, is that "Pretty" Purdie is the most recorded drummer of all time. I really don't need to sit here and list his credentials, because if you have the time you should do that yourself. The list is staggering (he's recorded on over 4,000 albums).

I came across this video earlier today and it simply reminded me of "the passion" (direct Lizard King quote). It reminded me that it's not the task to learn or love something; it's the love. As I sat and watched Purdie simply tap the drum skins, I remember that this is what passion looks like. A love for doing what you do. It's that kind of passion that makes me believe in everything I love doing. I believe true passion is not giving a shit about the outcome, but more just looking at your objective and jumping into bed with it, with only time on your side.

Go have fun doing what you love everyone, and maybe watch a little "Pretty" while you're at it.

rivoli

A lot of people don't know this about me, but in my spare time I like to wander around Toronto using Google Maps "Street View" option (if confused, try it out for yourself - it blew me away when I first used it). I don't really look for funny moments or people bailing on their bicycles. I just look for me.

Tonight I came pretty close to my goal. Even though the face is blurred out, there's a small chance that could actually be me. The only problem is I'm usually not walking that direction on Queen West, and the only white plastic bags I carry are from New Ho King, and that's always past 2 in the morning.

Who knows for sure though.

sometimes you just gotta pat yourself on the back

rosebud

For whatever reason, over the past few months the only thing I've felt like doing in my spare time is cooking and watching Citizen Kane. I have over one hundred movies in my house and I only ever feel like watching that one.

Aside from the incredibly gorgeous camera work, as well as the quality of the black and white footage, the film almost sounds like an album. I find when I'm cooking at home and watching say, a kung fu movie, I become more distracted with the visuals and end up burning my pork fried rice because I've been staring at the screen. However in the case of Citizen Kane, the movie relies far more on the narratives presented than the shots themselves. The script is slick and concise, which is why I could probably listen to the film on an mp3 player, if such a thing was possible.

If any of you readers have never seen the film, contact me and I'll run to your house to watch it with you, with a bottle of wine (I say that because most of the readers of this blog are femmes).

things I've learned at 1806

I'll preface this next bit with some notes. I've lived here, in the same room, for three years, and I know every in and out of this neighborhood within a four-block radius. I've lived with some serious characters and have experienced some pretty amazing times. There's been some quiet times, and some really loud times. If these walls could talk, there would probably be a lot of bleeping-out.

The Sound

My room at 1806 is partly separated by glass from another bedroom. Apparently, everything can be heard coming from my room in the other bedroom, and I mean everything. Yet the strange thing is, I've never heard much of anything come from the other side. It's almost like a one-way-mirror, except for sound. Strange, indeed.

The Lifts.

The elevators are incredibly smart here. I've never seen elevators like it. When idled, one sits at ground level, another in the middle, and the other at the penthouse. They juggle perfectly as if actually controlled by one very considerate man.

The Delta Chelsea.

This hotel sits across the street from my room. It ruins what would be an incredible view of south downtown Toronto. The shortcut through the lobby is the only real redeeming quality about the place, which I've probably passed through over 500 times. It's also extremely ugly. On top of that, I never saw any full-on sex coming from any of the rooms. How lame is that? Every night I'd look out my window to see if anything was going down, and nothing. I've seen some weird stuff however. I've seen a blowjob in progress, an old guy masturbating naked, two naked people laying on the bed with the lights on, and a whole lot of people changing. So, for all my real friends, do me a favor and go have sex at the Delta. Not so that I can sit and watch, but so that I can finally say after three years "Oh look, people are having sex at the Delta. Neat". On a final note - Blair and I are still trying to figure a way to blow up the entire building, just so he'll have a nice view.

The Alarms.

My condo is allergic to smoke. Even if you burn toast, the smoke alarm goes off. There's been some perticularly hilarious stories surrounding that device. The interesting thing is though, howcome the alarm never went off after we Jamaican Sauna'd the bathroom? I've seen steam come out of that bathroom that would honestly rival Niagara Falls.

The Changes.

Something is always wrong with this place. They're always shutting off the water, closing the gym, renovating the pool, fixing soggy ceilings, tearing up floors, bleaching something, and removing something else. I'm going to guess that there were only a total of 21 days where nothing was wrong with this building. I'm sure the site coordinator loses sleep at night.

The Halls.

The hallways smell like Toys R' Us. I noticed that the day I moved in. Do you know the smell I'm talking about? It's dominantly a fresh plastic smell, mixed with the odd stroller that passes by.

The Water.

It's god-damn delicious. Toronto water in general is the tastiest water ever. I have no idea why either. If the water here could be embody an inanimate object, it would probably be a milk shake, because that's how good it feels to drink. Going from another other towns water to Toronto's is like going from Marble Cheese to Double-Creme Brie. Get the picture?

The Tank.

I was never busted for practically living in my studio. My studio space is a large storage unit located one floor below street level. Two security cameras point directly at the door, and yet I was never hassled for being down there for hours at a time. Sometimes, a few people will accompany me, back in the good old Think Tank days. We'd stay there for hours. I'd have girls down there (intentionally or not). I play albums on full blast. I empty piss jugs and used oils/chemicals into the small drain outside the door. I clean by brushes at the Car Wash bay (and I usually do a pretty good job of spraying all the colors into the drain). Strange things come and go from that room as well, such as: a gigantic mirror, a five-foot wagon wheel, bee bee guns, an oven door, countless canvases, and lots of busted furniture.

24/7

It's too convenient here. It's literally impossible to go hungry in this area. There are four 24-hour establishments within five minutes of each other, and I couldn't even tell you how many times I've visited them at 5 a.m. There's a Panago next to my front door, a Subway, and a Falafel house around the corner. The convenience is also one of the major factors in leaving this place: I just don't want it that easy anymore.

Blair.

I love living with Blair, because he thinks I'm a pretty cool guy and really hams me up when I'm in the kitchen. He laughs at all my bad jokes and catches all my movie references. He is easily persuaded by his vices, and I've practiced that persuasion many, many times. His hobby is cleaning, which is good, because my hobbies create a lot of mess. He thinks I look like Sinatra, and once said I'm like the Dos Equis guy. No wonder I love Blair.

lights on, I can't sleep.

I completely forgot about this next piece. I wrote it while drinking beer in our hotel room in Cornerbrook, Newfoundland. I originally intended it to be longer, but the ideas are all there - and there they will stay.

Life is funny like this.

Most of my personal time is spent perusing through the isles of everything I think I believe in. Since being on tour, there have been a lot of waiting periods, particularly before the shows themselves. At these points, I'll usually find myself in only a handful of places.

I spend a lot of time in the bathroom, for instance. There's something about the silence and tranquility of bathrooms that really calms my nerves. I usually stand in front of the stall, read ads on excessive gambling, pants completely zipped up, until some other guy walks in. At that point, we'll exchange maybe two words until I wash my hands and leave. I also love our van. I'll sit in the drivers seat, listen to some music, and play poker on my phone. I roll down the windows, just to catch some breeze and to listen to street chatter.

I also like a nice cigarette sometimes. Now, don't go assuming that I'm Joe Smoke. I'm in no way addicted to the stick; I merely appreciate the calmness that nicotine brings me, and this is nothing new.

The nice thing about smoking is that it gives you an excuse to be outside. Hear me out on this one. When it comes to socializing, I thoroughly believe that at least 90% of any conversation when meeting new people is useless dribble. There's so much bullshit slung amongst people these days, it's scary. So naturally, I'm not standing on a patio just to meet people, because I can meet people any time I want. Anyone can. All you have to do is use your vocal chords, even badly. I'm there to catch some fresh air and maybe a puff. If somebody wants to talk, that's fine. I'll talk. Otherwise, I'm not going to seek out individuals because they have cooler clothes than me.

Lastly, I'll walk. Particularly in foreign places, I find myself wandering the streets for the majority of my stay. Every dark alley is explored, and even the odd fence is jumped. I think the idea of getting into trouble excites me, only because I'm curious to see how I'd get out of the situations I put myself into. Words like "trespassing" and "restricted" spark my curiosity, so I'll usually challenge them. I've also taken sincere pleasure in watching others partake in something as simple as walking. Human beings are far too interesting to assume you have them figured out. Just watch.

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.

assault and pepper

Hey Friends!

I've not been a slack as of late. It was just old Ted Rogers holding our internet signal ransom for several days. Yet, a lot has happened.

I might as well start with last Thursdays show at Call The Office in London.

The night itself was an overall success. Seeing as I don't have Facebook, I never really know who's "attending" and who's not. I'd heard word that many old friends were confirmed guests, and nearly all of them showed! This made for some, well, I'll just say interesting events. Even great friend, past-bandmate, and wonderful human in general Nathan Albion made his appearance. Dan and I used to be in a band with Nathan called Gerald Pessy way back in the day. We also almost won our highschool Battle Of The Bands together after only two weeks of playing our instruments.


The show also went quite well. There's a young and shakey kid doing sound at CTO nowadays, which caused us a bit of sweat. Aparently the show sounded good from the croud. People seemed to respond well to the new material. Even the new-new material (a near remix of an untitled song that had been played at several shows) went off without a hitch. That new version is pretty awesome, and a lot more fun to play, even though I stole the beat from a Josh Ritter album.
I have to mention, the Call The Office stage has heat like no other club. I'd rather play in the desert than feel the lights of that place. I always bring a change of clothes to those shows because, combining the heat with the vigor I play with, always makes for a sweaty performance.

The next morning, after some delicious King's Inn Diner lunch, we made for the road. I drove. Upon arrival, we all split for a Triple S before the show. I got Chippy's, located directly across the steet. If you've never eaten there, and have an appreciation for fish & chips, boot your ass over there as soon as possible. We then showed up for sound check.


I'll be honest, and I've said before, Lee's Palace scares the shit out of me. It's a massive venue that has seen some of the best bands on the planet play since before you were born. The walls of the place just ache with history. Not only is it one of the most notorious, but the best sounding clubs in the city. So naturally it was a bit nerve-racking packing our gear in it's hollow state. All of the bands were cool, except the bill didn't have any flow whatsoever.

The order went as follows: college funk, hue, hip-hop, then metal. Goofy.

We were rushed going on, seeing as the previous band ran late. I was literally still tightening my stands while Darcy tinkered the opening chords of our set. A great amount of people showed up, except we didn't make any money because they were all on the guestlist haha. S'all good. We payed for our gas money the night before.

Afterward we all hit Dance Cave and danced uncontrollably. Kevin Black and I jammed so fucking hard to Arcade Fire. I'm pretty sure we created our own dance circle in the middle of the floor just because nobody wanted to be hit by our flailing limbs. Atta boy. Another story that deserves some attention is actually quite funny. Minutes before we left after packing our gear, a fight broke out only a few feet from us. The cops showed up, and one of the guys who sucker-punched another dude approached us and told him to take his wallet. We said no, so he kicked it under our van. All I did for the next ten minutes was stare at the guy while he was being questioned by the cops. But why would he do this? It's simple really. The oldest in the book.

See, when a cop questions you for something illegal, all you really need to do is chuck your wallet away. That way, upon questioning, you can make up any address you feel like and the cops would be none the wiser. You'll never recieve a ticket and never pay a fine.

The punchers girlfriend noticed me eyeing him up and pleeded with me to not rat him out. To be honest, the only reason I didn't was because Darcy was driving and didn't want to get involved. Lucky him, because I was drunk and wanted justice. The most funny part is, she was pleeding with me as I was sitting in a van full of people, and after I continued to shove everything she said to the ground, my only reply to her was:

"Na na na na na na na na, BATMAN!!!"

We all had a good laugh at her expense right then and there.

I went home after that and slept. Then! Just when life couldn't get any better! I awoke to tickets to that afternoons Jays game against the Kansas City Royals! My good friend Andrew Siu and his lovely girlfriend treated Blair and I to some free tickets behind the plate. That was fucking awesome. I don't really have any good stories about that, except that I would shout any obscenity Andrew asked me to, including telling Vernon Wells to "EARN THAT 20 MILL!!!" when he was up to bat. He then struck out.

A week later, Darcy and I attended the annual Alzheimer's Tournament at The Highland in London. This was our fourth year playing, and easily the most hilarious yet. I won't go into too much detail, because I have a tonne of pics and video from that day, which I will post hopefully as soon as my sister sends them. You're in for some hilarity.

That same night a whole whack of us went out to Raygun and party-hardy'd, until we eventually ended up at Caitlin's place, free-styling and putting back drinks until the sun came up. Those freestyle tapes exist somewhere and I'll see what I can do to retrieve them.


Nowadays I've just been working, doing laundry, rehearsing, recording, painting, photographing, working on a website, Luminato, watching playoff basketball with K, walking, organizing, and enjoying what has been one of the best summers in years. My life seems to be one hectic, fantastic moment after another.

please! no more meat! (in every sense of the word)

Ahhh, the ever-glorious May 2-4 weekend. This year we had the privileged of staying, cost-free, at a beautiful lakefront summer home in New Baltimore, Michigan (about 20 minutes outside of Detroit).
BK, Mills, and Billy are staying there for the summer, so we thought we'd pay them a visit.

The view from the back porch wasn't that bad either.

The next photo I won't go into too much detail about. For those of you who know this means, let's all share a laugh together.

The best (and worst) thing about America is how they've seemed to bridge the gap between food and convenience. Here, I can be seen drinking a pre-bottled A&W Rootbeer Float. Now, the most unusual thing about it wasn't the taste or the texture, but the ingredients. I wasn't shocked when I noticed that last diddy. Laughing gas anyone?

Tickle a ginger!!
What May 2-4 would be complete without tickling Jordan to the ground (which takes anywhere between 1 and 6 seconds, depending on how much he resists). Jordan, I wish I had your giggle as my ringtone, because it warms my heart.

We watched Family Matters (which is surprisingly still a good show), and it turned out that it was Steve's birthday as well. I cradled his head and wished I was there with him and Carl.

Funny face time. Aparently Josh's monkey face had never been captured on film until now. I consider that a damn shame, because it's fucking hilarious.

One of my personal favorites: The Rubber Mask. It scares pretty girls.

David, I don't know what to call this, but that doesn't mean it's not funny. It reminds me of somebody, mostly Egon from Ghostbusters.

"Oh man, BK is totally drinking from my dick. That's hilarious!"

I'm sure that's what I was thinking at the time of this birthday countdown photo.

Detroit, what.

We met blair right about here, because he's a Backstreet Boy.

I remember agreeing to see a Detroit Tigers game the night before, but I don't know how they managed to pull me out of bed the next morning. I was in hangover central. Although, the best cure for one of this is movement, Tylenol, sunlight, and more booze.
The daquiri stand looked damn tempting when sitting in 26 degree sun in the outfield.

Josh, enjoying that shit, even without the huge collectable fist drink holder.

The employees at the daquiri stand honestly loved their jobs. They made us honkies feel right at home.

Time for another.

Well played, honkies.

That motherfucker (and I can say that because he was hitting on Cougars the whole game) was one part hilarious drunk hick, one part annoying Yank. He didn't say much more than reciting rap lyrics and screaming "I'm on a boat!" during lulls in between plays. At least he gave us some good daquiri insight.

The new Tigers Stadium is beautiful. Everything I think a baseball stadium should be.

8 Mile!

Yeah, we got ourselves some White Castle. It had been about a decade since I'd last eaten here, and thank God for that. I forgot how absolutely horrible this food is. We ended up calling it Grey Castle because of the grey-matter-meat. Fucking terrible excuses for burgers. Under no circumstance should a food joint have a 40-burger combo on its menu. We all had to shit immediately afterwards. I think this venture capped off the meat consumption limit for the trip.

Mills and BK. More like East and DP.

Jordan loving the Five O'Clock Rum. That shit was so damn gross. But hey, it was only $16 for that entire bottle. Where do you draw the line between value and quality? Actually, how about value and dignity.

We opened our own bar after visiting Wal-Mart.

The spinning-head Exorcist owl.

BK and I held dinner down the second night. I made a red wine and worcestershire sauce marinade for the steaks and stuffed the potatoes with garlic, onion, and fresh rosemary. PS - damn you guys for having such beautiful rosemary and basil plants.

Of course, I was getting my feet dirty running through farmers fields to capture some sweet cloudage. Billy warned me that people here have guns and are not afraid to use them. Let's just say I made it quick.

Life's tough.

What the hell was with this thing in Billy's room. The creepiest thing isn't the imitation chest hair, but that fact that it came with the house when they moved in.

I should have known that these two would be gambling the entire trip. I'm sure only twenty minutes after knowing eachother bets were made.

And what May 2-4 weekend would be complete without a passed-out-early-Blair!?

I really don't know what to say about this photo below. Words that come to mind include: confusion, liquor, party, gay, sexy, drunk dad, wow, sweet, what?, nice!, and general laughter. I honestly can't even glance at this photo without busting a gut laughing. I think it's his stance and the fact that nobody else can be seen in the photo, which means it got late and Mrs. Clause decided to put on her sexy low-cut V neck that Santa loves so much. Except Mrs. Clause is played by a drunk Josh sporting three days of beard growth.

Meme, you're wonderful. Thanks for coming and leveling the sausage ratio a bit.

Middle of the night long-exposures during a lightning storm.

Crew.

All in all, this was another weekend for the books. Although it was filled with too much meat (foodly speaking), everyone had an amazing time, and I even got to play Hide and Seek. I speak on the behalf of every guest when I say it was great seeing you guys and thanks for showing us just how fucking crazy America is. Because, three words:

Smokes N' Stuff