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.

it continues....on and on...

I seriously can't kick this look-alike shit.

I was dancing at Sneaky Dee's a while back and this guy comes up to me, convinced that I'm Tony Hawk. He actually had to spin me around to make sure The Hawk wasn't actually dancing on stage. I had to convince him I wasn't the real deal. I wasn't The Hawk.



Secondly, Terri, as usual, whips up another crazy look-alike out of thin air. This time, it's some random jabroney boyfriend of Monica's seen in the first season of friends.



Keep 'em coming folks. Just keep 'em coming.

happy 200

200th Post. Something monumental I guess.

To celebrate, I'm throwing in some Three Stooges for good measure. I'm not sure what my hankering is all about to watch Three Stooges clips all night, but maybe it has something to do with the show Dan, Darcy and I played tonight here in Toronto.

Because clearly Dan is Moe, Darcy is Larry, and I'm Curly. Enjoy.

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.

east and dp

Dan and I realised a while back that not only have we been friends for a long time, but we've been making music together for almost just as long. I'm fairly sure we've been involved in some sort of group together at any given time over the past 7 years.

I remember it like it was yesterday. We'd arranged to have a "jam" at my house in my bedroom. We planned on playing Credence Clearwater Revivals single, Down on the Corner. Hours before he showed up to my house, I pleaded with my sister to teach me how to play it, even though the song is only three chords. My fingers were getting sore even before he got there. I fumbled with the tabliture terribly, almost like a child learning how to ride a bike.

After several attempts together at completing the song, I looked over to the bongo I'd been given that Christmas (this one is specifically known as an Indian tabla), began to play, and the rest is history. I brought the beat and Danny played the guitar.

We continued to play together, comparing calluses in the cafeteria, and then we began playing with our good friend Nathan, who actually had a fairly decent understanding of the guitar. After only three or so practices, we played our first show together, under the name of Gerald Pessy at a coffee house. Later that month, we entered in our high school Battle of the Bands (how 'right of passage' does this sound for young boys?), and came in second.

Another story of this sort comes from the days before we played our final show together at The Embassy, which is all but a pile of rubble now. We decided to "electrify" our sound by putting Nathan on electric guitar, and me on drums for the first time. I really want to say this was because we were listening to a lot of Oasis at the time, but who really knows. I distinctly remember, much like the session with my sister, my brother sitting me down and teaching me the one and only beat I'd ever be structurally taught. It was the simple 4/4 beat that is most common in percussion. That night at the embassy, it was the only beat I played for every song. The tapes from that show exist somewhere, and I'll be damned if I don't find them someday.

Years later, after disbanding with Nathan, we wrote and recorded Fly Away under the name Hue. Seeing as we were the only two members of the band, we wrote and arranged all the instrumental parts together under the chord progressions and lyrics from Dan. The album is roughly recorded, but there is innocence, vision, and sincerity in the execution of the each song. I still have a few copies kicking around.

To this day, we are still best friends and continue to make music together. We have full confidence in each others talents, yet are never hesitant to provide feedback when needed. We compliment each others work, and never forget to pound knuckles after each night we play. Even after all these years, I think the one thing that keeps us from feeling stale musically is the fact that we're excited to hear what we can both come up with, whether alone or collectively. It's either that or we're both really good at freestyling.

...to another seven Danny boy.

nay-sexual

A couple days ago, it was nearing the end of the day and something interesting occurred to me:

I hadn't been turned on once the entire day.

In truth, everyone gets sexually turned on by something daily, if not by the minute (you know who you are). There's nothing at all wrong with that. Yet on this day, I had nothing. Not a dirty thought entered my mind nor a smokin' be-hind to look at. So, naturally you can understand the gravity of this, because I noticed it right away.
I was so excited by this fact that I quickly walked home so that I could write about it. But on the way, sadly, this girl walking past me was popping huge cleav' and we eye-fucked for about two seconds. Great. My experience was completely ruined by really nice boobs. Now I'll have to wait another 23 years until it happens again.

that's callled tweeting

ALRIGHTMEANDBLAIRAREGETTINGDRUNKONOLDEEANDGOING
SWIMMINGWEALSOHOOKEDUPWITHGIRLSINNYC

above video: Battery Park, NY.

smooth as a babies bum

Last Saturday I was scheduled to do a photo documentary on the Nuns.

About an hour before leaving, my sister (who works their reception desk) calls me and asks me to remove my beard! Apparently nuns do not like beards, for whatever reason.

Seeing as I really wanted to photograph them, I removed it without hesitation. I just thought it was funny, because I'm sure I'll never have to be asked by nuns to remove my beard ever again.

On a second note, one of the Sisters asked me if I had a girlfriend while talking in her suite. I said no. She then told me that she was going to pray for me. Isn't that amazing? Right now, there is a legitimate nun praying for women on my behalf. She even wrote in her prayer book "Andrew Schmidt. Girls." By god, I hope she works some magic.
I snapped a photo while she wrote it and will surely post it as soon as it's been processed.

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.

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.

not even a twizzler/oh baby it's tight i tell ya it's tight

A while back during tour, I was going to write a post on the delicate procedure of packing a van full of equipment. There is seriously a fine art to the entire ordeal. The MuteMath boys explain it best.

Those guys are big enough to have a real trailer. My band, on the other hand, gladly tour in a minivan. When I was a kid I did a lot of grocery shopping with my dad. One of my favorite parts (aside from using Loeb's Cookie Club membership) was putting all the items on to the conveyor belt at checkout. I was so good at finding places to put items, and still am to this day. I could probably fit an entire grocery cart on one reel of belt. It was all about shapes.

Same thing goes for trailers. Everything just seems to find it's place over time. And the longer you tour, the easier it is to fit everything. We actually had more space in the van than when we started the tour, despite collecting things along the way.

However much credit I lend myself as a packer, I have to hand it to Darcy. On top of being freakishly strong (due to either leverage or his Grandfather, Gumby), that guy can pack.

if you're not going to turn it off, turn it up

There's nothing like a fuck-off-sized lightning storm to scare the shit out of everyone. It's actually quite humbling to be honest. Just when you think to yourself "damn I should go get groceries", sorry Jack, you're staying in tonight.

Storms are funny that way. My brother and I used to landscape for a woman who really, really loved storms. She'd go on and on about how powerful and primal they were and how much she loved the energy. Later we'd laugh about how she probably got extremely horny when she heard thunder, even though we both secretly wanted to bang her.

Come on Mike, you KNOW you did.

-----------------------------------------------

Here's a story: When I was young I went to an eighth grade pool party. Everyone was swimming in our friends pool. My one friend Chrissy (a guy) was there. He didn't know how to swim, so his mom attended every pool party and made him wear water wings. It was a real buzz kill. The funny thing was, Chrissy was tall enough to stand in the deep end, so he looked ridiculous wearing water wings in the first place.

Everyone heard thunder, so my friends mom made us get out of the pool. We all huddled under the awning and ate soaking wet chips. Surely enough, lightning struck the pool. Not ten feet away, a huge white beam came down and struck the water, followed by the single loudest sound I've ever heard. Try to imagine a thousand car accidents happening at once in front of you.

I can easily say I will never be that close to a bolt of lightning ever again.

I almost wish Chrissy was in that pool, mostly because I'm curious of those water wings and if they'd explode.

Also, at that same party I kicked a girl in the vag' accidentally while we were on her trampoline. I was going up, she was coming down, I had my foot out, and she happened to catch it between her legs. We didn't talk much after that.

-------------------------------

On a final note: Do epileptics get seizures during lightning storms? I'm talking BIG lightning storms. It seems logical to me. If so, would they have to close their eyes if they were outdoors during a storm? Would they have to draw the blinds at home? I'd hate to see someone on the street, soaking wet, having a seizure. In this town they'd probably be thrown in the drunk tank.

picture sifting

I'm currently sitting on my old PC here in London and thought it would be funny to search through my received files from the past few years. Some of the stuff was just too good to not share, so here's what I'm talking about:
That's Adam Green. Him and his babe wife own The Little Red Roaster. He is one of the only people I've ever met that I would truly call a character. He is instantly quotable and never ceases to make me laugh. I could tell you a hundred stories, but I won't.

That would be Dan and I sitting in the Melbourne airport during one of the longest layovers I've ever experienced. That night we decided it would be unwise to stay in a hotel when we could just spend the night in the terminal. Looking back, I'm wishing we did. By that point I hadn't slept in over two days. I spent the night safeguarding our gear and writing in my journal while the others attempted to sleep. I can never sleep when there's the risk of losing my belongings, especially my Thai fisherman's pants. Check that shit out!That was taken at the second-last Joe Schuster Way Halloween party. I've been going to those for years and sadly they just got too crazy and were forced to discontinue them. But it was nice to party with Mario, Whoopie Cushion and Emily Rose. That party always had the best costumes.
Way back when, Hue was a circus. When we'd play live it wasn't uncommon for each member to play every instrument on stage during different songs. It was so, so hectic between songs because everyone would change positions and end up playing something entirely different from the last song. I can be seen here playing the bass, which was always a fucking pleasure.

That is Harrison Ford in a speedo. I never really cared to delete it from my received files, probably because it makes me laugh every time I see it.
This photo above was taken two years ago on the patio of CTO. If you haven't already figured it out, that is my gay twin, and his name is Andrew. I was freaking out. Nobody there could believe what they were seeing, and neither could I. The entire night felt like a segment from A Christmas Carol.
This man is a famous Fijian, at least to me. We stayed on the island of Mana and noticed this man strutting around with his huge gut, just building stuff and throwing down huge Fiji-Life style naps (that's when you lift your t-shirt above your belly to relieve some heat, and it only looks cool on them so don't try it)
Again, another crazy Hue lineup of musicians. Mary-Beth is probably the most talented musician I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Her accomplishments trump most seasoned orchestra players, and she's not even 30. Before she played for ex-president Bush, she was recording with us in the studio and the CIA would call her periodically for security checks. That was a trip.
That's my friend Ferris rocking the Indian look so hard with that hand drum.
That's my friend Stephen. He is the most asian person I know and also happens to be a super genius (don't those usually go hand in hand anyway?). He once proved to me that 1+1 does not equal 2. Maybe I'll call him up and ask some day how this is so. He likes history.
That's Gary. Bike and I found Gary in a Wal-Mart parking lot. He was trying to cross the road and held up traffic until we scooped him up and took him home. Later that day we did our research, built a habitat, and fed him crickets. His tongue was long and lethal. In fact, I used to have nightmares that Gary would grow ten times his size and suck my eyeballs out of my head with his incredibly long tongue. He changed color with mood and would always try to escape from his tank, and he usually succeeded. He would climb curtains and the fake trees in my brothers Africa-themed bedroom. Gary is now dead and resides in Dans freezer awaiting a proper burial. Peace out Gare-bear.

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. 

click, click, boom

I'm tired. 

Do you ever get that sensation where you know your body needs food but you're just not hungry, or when you know you need to sleep but you just can't? That's good stuff. 

It's been, and will continue to be, a very busy few weeks. Working towards completing works for three separate shows, all within two months of each other, and I've been having trouble connecting works together. I've painted over the same canvas three times already and plan to do so again tomorrow morning. There's a certain click that happens when I begin a new painting and I can usually sense what the finished product will look like by the time of completion. I'll toss and turn every night and wake up early just to work on it, and to see what the final product looks like. Lately this hasn't been happening. My mind has been in other places and I become really unmotivated when I enter the studio to see that my oil brushes have dried over. I really detest cleaning brushes sometimes. This is mostly due to the fact that I don't enjoy the smell of Taltine, and linseed oil can really muck-up your kitchen sink. Needless to say, I'll get it all done.

It is now nearing 3am and all I can seem to focus on is watching GG Allin interviews, which is not necessarily the stuff anyone should be watching before bed. 

Last nights show at The Supermarket went really well. I smacked my hand right near the beginning of the set and it didn't stop bleeding for about twenty minutes. The really sad thing is that I was playing another bands drum kit and I had to wipe the blood off in between tracks.

Tonight we recorded in London with the gentlemen from the Ontario Institute of Audio Recording Technology. That went very well, but I felt that my own bed would be a nice way to cap off the day. We got some Timmies and I drove the boys home to Toronto in our new van. The portable radio scratched and fuzzed between stations the entire way and we heard the same Kings of Leon song three times going in one direction. 

I've been really craving a good, concise, blogathon lately. One where I can rant passionately about something that's been on my mind, except I just haven't really allowed myself the time to do that. Hopefully this weekend. 

Oh, and St. Paddy's was good. I was in bed by twelve and still have splinters embedded in my left hand from climbing a ten foot wooden fence into somebody's backyard. 

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

helter skelter

Lately I've had a tonne on my mind. I've been meaning to write almost every day, yet can't bring myself to come up with anything solid. I think I'll just jot for now, and maybe elaborate one day.

- I've been listening to albums on shuffle on my discman. It's a nice feeling, almost like listening to them for the first time again. Some albums are even better on shuffle.

- I've been trying to grasp a better understanding of possessions. The other day I was sitting in my room and I realized that all this stuff is mine, it belongs to me. If I were to move, all this stuff would come with me. It's a very elementary thought, yet it's funny to imagine how much we all own. I'd like to see everything I've ever bought in a big room, so that maybe I could laugh at all the dumb things I've purchased over the course of my life. That actually reminds me of a piece I was planning to work on a couple years ago, which was sparked from the fact that everything costs. I was once fascinated by the fact that everything in this world has a literal value. Touch any object within arms reach, and I guarantee you that it cost somebody something at one point (and don't say air, smarty). The pieces were going to be very large cityscapes, but instead of paint or pencil, I was going to use a price gun, because everything costs, right? I still plan on doing this, the only hurdle was actually getting my hands on a pricing gun. I'm sure I'd run into so many hurdles that it would end up like that puzzle piece I did: an utter mental breakdown.

- I've been saying the word trivial a lot. The problem is, I can't think of any other words that are as effective fast enough. I'm sure it's just a phase.

- What's the best thing about the economic recession? The DEALS. I've never, and probably will never see such deals in my entire life. And the best thing about it is that there is competition amongst these big companies, so prices are just getting lower, and lower, and lower. Example: numerous subs at Subway are only $5 for a footlong here in Toronto. Me and meatball have become very good friends over these past few months.

- For the first time in a long time, I really like my room. Every so often I'll feng shui the shit out of it and it just seems to get better and better.

- I'm extremely excited for the U.S.A. I love that country, and the arrival of Barack Obama is such an amazing step forward for the nation and I can't wait to watch it all unfold. Come to think of it, I had a nightmare last night that went something like this.
Inauguration Day wasn't in Washington, but in Harris Park. There were about 300 people, including myself, waiting for the arrival of Senator Obama to be sworn in. For some reason, he arose from the horizon in a big Hawaiin Tropic hot air balloon. Sadly, when it came time for him to land a big gust of wind shot the balloon into the Thames river. I woke up at that point.

- I've started drinking a lot of caffeine again. The effects aren't really towards my heart, but my mouth! I can't shut the fuck up. Jitters aside, it is making me a lot more industrious.

- I'm not sure which is harder: Realizing the world is crazy, or having to live with that fact. I know I'm going to have a mid-life crisis. Actually, I have mid-day crisis' every day. The only reassuring thing is that I know my life will not be normal as years pass. Spontaneity is an attribute of my personality that will never be fully under control. The urge to cut my losses and flee is ever-present.

- Jenna once introduced me to the very simple concept of mystery. Not to strive towards, but to look for and introduce yourself to. Since then, my perspective on normality, people, places, and interaction has flipped on its can and I find myself wandering more than ever. The incredible thing about Toronto is that you can walk to the same destination twenty times, but you can take a different route every time. Especially around this time of year, after a night out, walking home through the strange ethnic sects of Toronto seems like another world, and certainly not one that is minutes from your front door.

- The opening the other week at Vdara was a great success. Thanks goes to everyone who came and gave me a piece of their mind, and their heart. I didn't expect to see as many as I did, and am always grateful for the amazing relationships I have with my friends. Special thanks goes to Mickey for the huge amount of work on my behalf, and to all the staff at Vdara for making me feel so welcome. Oh, and the lamb shank was top shelf.

- Hue is playing a show this Saturday 24th at The Horseshoe Tavern around 12am. Throw me a line if you want to get on the guest list. After party is at Dance Cave right after the show.

That's enough from me.

monday morning

I had another great day in the studio today. Early start, cup of coffee, full generator and some of my favorite albums to listen to. After I emptied out the piss bucket (this space is underground, don't ask) and cleaned some dry brushes, I got to painting. The most difficult thing I think in landscape painting is revisiting a piece after around a week. Sometimes I need to paint wet-to-dry, so I need to allow the paintings the time to dry out a bit. Colors never seem to match and it's a massive struggle sometimes to get back into that palette and understanding what was where and how they've melded together in the past.

It's cold down there this winter. I can see my breath while I work and it drives me to distraction because I'm constantly warming my hands and blowing my nose. I'm starting to work my way into a more safe way of approaching chemicals and oil paints. It's not uncommon for me to wear plastic gloves and a cotton face mask, and I'll usually leave the door open to make up for my five inch "vent" that couldn't even ventilate a fart. Which leads me to my next point,

For those of you that don't know, I'm half way finished filming a mini-documentary about a trip I took through western North America early this past summer. One part of the trip documented all my painting research and sketches (as well as the trip itself), and the second will include the production of all the artwork, under certain circumstances.
Those being that I am willingly encasing myself in a concrete space for five days with no leaving and no sense of time, with the goal in mind of starting and completing at least six large-scale landscape works. I don't plan on leaving the room for this period which means:

no power (because it's technically a storage space)
no sunlight (also meaning no sense of what time of day it really is)
no watches (because I think that's funny)
no mirrors (because I'd like to see the shit-hole look and surprise when I come out
no running water (again, it's not made for living)
and no light switch (there's no switch; it's a motion-sensor, which means I cant stop moving)

Needless to say, I feel as though I'm getting very close to undertaking this adventure, and it kinda scares me (those who know me well know that I've been talking about this challenge for years now), but it's also really, really exciting.

hue and lights at cto

Last night was an outstanding show.
After a grueling amount of rehearsals over the past weeks, we pulled together a well-received set that was over 3/4's new material. There were a lot of highlights to the show as well: I got to play the drums sideways, Darcy and I both had solo's during a jazz intermission (except he got to play the kazoo), we had a song that was just drums and whistling, and most importantly, nothing broke or disconnected. It was just one of those shows where everything went smooth from start to finish, except when our sound guy Eric had us set up onstage in front of everybody, only to make us wait while he took a piss. But once we hit the stage, it was all set to go.

Seeing as we were playing with the pop-wonder LIGHTS (myspace.com/lights) we knew that people would show up, but we weren't ready for how many.
I got a text from my sister early on in the night asking when to show up for the show, I replied "come now, there's 150 people waiting to get in", and that was before the doors even opened. Once they did, the place just flooded and we were to hit the stage in about an hour. By the time we'd finished our set, the Sold Out sign was placed on the front door. It got really, really tight. Once we hit that last note (or punch), it was time to tear down everything at record pace. Yet the only problem was, we couldn't get off the stage. People had surrounded every corner of Call the Office and we had no way of getting our gear off the stage. So we (meaning Hue and Everlea) formed a gear-train that involved lifting huge amps above our heads in an effort to get everything off the stage so that the next set of gents could get playing.
Another thing I wasn't expecting from this show was the general demographic. I forgot who we were playing with and what her fan base really is: screaming young girls. I am not, in any way, saying this is a bad thing. In fact, it was one of the most hilarious and enjoyable crowds we've ever played to. Playing to a hoard of girls kicked ass. After every song they'd cheer, and after everything you'd say they'd scream. I joked later about screaming "Does your mother like it dirty?"..."YAAAHBLLAAHHAAA!" I even threw away broken sticks at the end of the show, and they ate that shit up. I guess if you're too young to drink, you have to have your vices, which leads me to my next point: these kids spend!
Not only did they like the music, but they wanted to have it. Apparently we sold over twenty albums last night and filled up over two sheets of paper for a mailing list. We also signed a lot of CD's, which made me feel like a rockstar dickhole, but it was all in fun and it was nice to meet a lot of cool people.
Needless to say, the night was a huge success and I only want to tour with popular female musicians, forever.

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.