oh henry

What can I say about Henry Rollins? I read my first piece of Black Flag literature early last year which chronicled some of the wildest tour stories I'd ever come across, regardless of artist or genre. Henry Rollins has been somewhat of an idol of mine for many years, and for numerous reasons. I could rant all night until I'm blue in the face as of why, but it all really boils down to a few key words. 

honor. respect. passion. love. hate. real. guts. pride. honesty. principles. 

Now, watch as Henry rips this amateur a new one. After he's done that, he starts talking. 

"I don't think you coouuuld, "

i'm still thinking billy madison

Basically, Mike and I trying to figure out what to watch as we cycle through endless binders of bad movies.

friday

Taking things easy tonight.

I've spent most of my night in the bathroom reading Bruce Mau's brilliant Massive Change aloud to myself. Not even sitting on the toilet, just in the bathroom. I think I like the acoustics. I also find I absorb information better when I read out loud and really, really fast. I'll take one huge gulp and try to read two paragraphs as fast as possible. Usually by the end of this I've comprehended everything, and am left with a sore head, but it's been three days and I'm almost done that book, so I'm assuming it's worth the Advil.

One thing I've really noticed lately is that I make weird faces when I walk around, and there's two reasons for this.

a) I'm Listening to Music

No matter what the album, I'll either mouth the words, play air-piano, or make drum faces. A drum face [something I do a lot] is when you hear certain parts of a drum kit played and correlate them with different parts of your face. For instance, I'll usually blink my left eye when there is a counter-note on a snare drum. I'll blink my right eye when the hi-hat opens up. This is also a good reason why I wear sunglasses 90% of my time spent outdoors. On top of that, I'll walk to the beat. I'm sure if you watched me closely when walking, you could tell what song I was listening to. That's funny stuff to me.

b) I'm Recalling or Playing Out a Moment

I feel nuts when this happens, but when I replay a moment (either in the past or future), I'll make the corresponding faces to the story. I find myself smiling, or even laughing at something played back in my mind at the most random of times on the street. People will look at me funny and I'll usually just shy away and dismiss the feeling until my next memory pops up. This, I'm sure, is a precursor to what will eventually be a very old, very senile Andy. I think it'll be a funny time though. I'll be that old guy who sits in the retirement home halls laughing and pinching nurses bums.

I could have written this so much better, but I'm watching Drumline right now and I'm so distracted, it's ridiculous.

more than this

Please excuse the amazingly bad quality of these images. They were all taken in iPhoto. There's some awesome window glare on pretty much all of them. I assure you they look better in person. Oh, ps, the last image is actually not that small. Fooooled you.

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.

spoke too soon

So, I clearly forgot to knock on wood.

Not an hour ago, I was diagnosed with pneumonia.

I checked into the walk-in clinic earlier this morning to see if I was just paranoid about this chest stuff. Dr. Kara told me to lift my shirt so he could listen to me breathing from my back, through the stethoscope. He asked me to breath deeply while he checked all the parts of my back. He asked me to repeat this breathing while his scope was placed on this one particular section of my back.

"Andrew, you have a crackle in your right lung." Great.

He said it was a good thing I came in when I did, or else the illness could have worsened badly within the next couple days.
Either way, I'm now on antibiotics for the next week. I even got a puffer! I was always envious of those asthmatics and their cool puffers.

Richard Wilson's Rotating Wall

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

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

boring mouth

I sometimes wish I had a rotten tooth. 

Something to mix up my image a bit. 

My mouth is rather boring. 

I'm thinking one rotten, black, fucked up tooth would be cool. 

Probably the fourth tooth in from the molars on the right side. 

That way, people would say, 

"Oh yah, I know Andy. The guy with the fucked tooth, right?"

It just makes sense to want one. 

Maybe I'll get a gold tooth instead.