neopolitan hand cream

since tonight, finally, i am wise.

this feels good.

skip the dumb fucks.

the end.

Viva La Vida - a live critique

THE FOLLOWING VIDEO IS MADE TO BE WATCHED AS SUCH:

For starters, make sure both the audio clip and YouTube video are fully loaded.

These are meant to be played at the same time.

Cool? At this point, press play on the podcast first, and listen for when to press play on the video. You may want to adjust the volumes so that my voice is slightly louder than the audio coming from YouTube. You can adjust both levels in the player. Enjoy!..but don't at the same time.

ain't i a sap

A few months back everyone in our band challenged each other to write a quick piano part to be recorded and put on our MySpace, under the Band Members category. Naturally, I wrote something ultra sappy in a key that I usually refer to as "black notes", meaning using nearly all the black keys on a piano. Very specific combination's of black keys sound like love, hate, and everything in between the two.
I have always been known to write dismal melodies on the piano, and I'm totally fine with that. I think I provide a bit of balance to a bands writing curve that usually revolves around fast pop hooks. Leave it to me to provide irregular chords, depressing progressions and slower tempos. This is probably drawn from my love for early George Winston.

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. 

kiss me, i'm andy

i'm honestly a bit nervous for tomorrow,
seeing as it's st. paddy's day.
i'll be rolling with some really bad influences and will probably drink my fool face off.
i don't think i've ever had a really ridiculous st. paddy's before.
i know, i know, it doesn't mean anything and it's just an excuse to drink and i've been against it in the past, but this is a day for gingers, and it's the only day of the year where it's actually somewhat cool to be one.
i'll keep everyone updated on what happened and maybe even throw down a drunken podcast when i get home, who knows.

the wild

Lately, after several large-party hangout scenarios, I've continued to unravel things that I truly stand for, and against. Par example:

Within the past few years, I've noticed somewhat of a rapid resurgence in the use of racial slurs and general racially-charged name calling that I thought was on its way out with our grandparents. Now, I have tried to understand this phenomenon (and trust me, it is) from many points of view, including the one about how racism is not as serious as it once was, making it a more widely accepted brand of comedy. However, like anything, there are limits. I hear and see these same limits being pushed every day. I don't think I've ever felt as uncomfortable as I have over the past year about these issues. I was raised in a home where discrimination was not even a frame of mind and not once did I ever hear my parents or siblings crack a joke surrounding ones race, except for the one about bad Asian drivers when my sister got in a car accident.

Now, I know these jokes are delivered with harmless intentions by most of today's youth, but this exact frame of mind has held racism a priority amongst modern cultural dilemmas for decades. It is something that I seriously will not stand for and have never found amusing. For instance, just the other night I said to someone "If I had a gun I'd shoot your fucking dick off," after said person referred to a young black girl as "darky". Disgusting. I can only take so much more of it.

Another serious dilemma that I won't stand for is chauvinistic behavior towards women. This is another issue that should have been out the door a long, long time ago. The fact that such disgusting behavior is still present amongst many "gentlemen" makes my fucking blood boil. Which brings me to my next point...

The humiliation of jocks. This is the stuff of my dreams. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than keeping that American Eagle frown right-side down. As far as I'm concerned, most of these unenlightened zeroes take up far too much space on this continent and serve no purpose other than keeping the beer and khaki industries afloat. So guys, a little heads up from old Andy: I will take your girl aside, dance the shit out of her, and give her right back like a true gent while you grip your pint and wonder how legs move like that. I will smile, and probably wink at you, and you won't like it.

But what would motivate an individual to do such things? Simply put - revenge. I was fortunate enough to attend multiple schools that were full of meat-heads in the making. We all know the type: bullies, goons, cooliosos, jocks, thugs, dickheads. The kind of guys that will end up snorting blow out of their polished briefcases before going home to measure their dicks in front of the mirror before watching the big game or cheat on their wives. These are the guys that I like to mess with strictly for my own personal gain, and I really don't see anything wrong with that.

the think tank

Bike, Cara Spooner and I discussing the changes, complications, and hilarity of keyboards over time, all within the greatness of the Think Tank.

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.