my piano and your pencils.

they could sit side by side.
i would have an ashtray on top of the piano that you would sometimes bicker about but sometimes we would drink wine and you would stub out the occasional cigarette yourself and i'd never call you out.
maybe we'd have breakfast, certainly coffee, in the mornings and then i'd be off to work and you would have hours alone to draw yourself out of this town, enough that you'd be okay sticking around. i'd get home and you'd be out.
i'd make dinner.
i would play piano and think. i would read my book that i've been reading for years. you would've watered the plants and finally they'd be coming back to life. i've never been good with plants. your key would hit the lock. the tibetan elephants would jangle to life. the switch on the kettle would be flipped and water would be boiled for tea.
you would tell me where you'd spent the morning, i'd tell you where i'd spent the night. they would accompany each other nicely.
my hand would drift asleep atop your belly.
my heating bill would go down.
the bristles of your toothbrush would sleep quietly next to mine.

busy bee

i need to:

• finish the zine
• rehearse 4 times
• eat/grocery shop
• laundry
• finish the bass parts
• fix my amp
• work
• play on the 29th
• open a show on the 7th
• dj the night of the 7th
• play the 8th
• drive to texas on the 9th
• blow my mind for 8 days and fly home
• sleep
• be a friend/son/brother
• eat some vegetables
• make money
• finish a record
• build a little volcano
• x-country ski
• see contemporary dance
• have cigarettes
• settle down
  

take it easy to the max

tonite i:
-saw the emily carr dance thing-a-ma-jig with veda hille at market hall.
-the cam malcolm militia and jon mackiel band at the moho.
-matthew barber at the red dog.

i was going to stay home and sleep but instead did a bunch of things.

going to see my first ever dance show was the best thing i did. i was super impressed. will pay attention to all things that happen in this town now in contemporary dance. veda sounded amazing and the dancers were rad. i'm going to try and see them tomorrow night again. very rarely something comes to town that i'd like to see twice, unless it's food.

the cam malcolm militia was great. so good to see/hear cam play again. and with his brother. so sweet... one of those musicians that i really try and pay attention to.

the second band, from halifax, the jon mackiel band, were great as well. i planned on finishing my beer and leaving but got caught up on listening to them. stayed for the whole set...

...

p.s. the moon was totally gnar last night. wasn't excited till the shit got red. mike and i use to sit out on chairs at my cottage on the winter ice and chant "celestial events! celestial events!" and then would cheer when we'd see a shooting star or some other space phenomenon. last night we got to watch it from home pretty much.
thanks world.

p.p.s. i'm on hardly any sleep and have a big night planned for tomorrow. sleep tight you white janitors.

jwpb

i have renewed faith

in: -what i am doing -who i am -who we all are -the magic of jam -sigur ros -the power of cleaning -winter -perspective and identity -my dad.

On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load

i totally janked my neck this morning.
was shutting my alarm clock off.
tweaked it.
it almost made me puke.
i'm working it out now.

it's stiff.
i ran.
i swam.
i hottubbed.

it needs more coffee i think.

also, i have joined the masses of cross country skiing.
it is amazing.
i just need boots now.
the ones i borrowed were too small.
i got skis.
and 2 different size poles.
i will be in jeans ripping the trails if you're looking for me.

ontario

so a friend said she read my blog and said i'm still a country boy and my roots are still there.

...

this is where my head sleeps.

...

i cannot argue.

a taste of complete perspective

a drawing by eric shaw.

sometimes i feel like i'm at my best, or happiest, when i'm out of my element. no i'm not talking about my car. i can do well in it as well, grant you today mike got it stuck in the back rhubarb cause my snow tires are embarassing, or non-existent. the dudes at crappy tire shake their heads when i tell them i'm driving to winnipeg on curling shoes. ramble ramble ramble...

you should see me run a triathalon on an empty stomach in skateboard shoes, with a hangover. spur of the moment.

... the bike this old dude lent me broke and then i took a left when i should've taken a right and still was able to come back and pass this old dude. shitty thing about it was, as i approached this old dude, this was at the running part of the race, i was all psyched. i was like "okay i'm going to burn by this guy, not say anything, just pass him and carry on to the end." i didn't want it to be awkward for him. and i was like "perfect, keep your head down". so as i pull up beside him, and i was a mess... felt like i was going to die, fading away...psycho babble at 11... he turns to me, and he goes "the name's jim smith (name changed). we gonna finish this thing together or what?" and i was like "yeah, jim, yeah". i had to. he was too nice and wanted companionship down the final stretch of loss. and we did... but as i was approaching the finish line, and there's the people cheering us on (sidenote: i'm a total loser who didn't get laid at the awards ceremony afterparty obviously) i had this great epiphany. when someone checks the score of an event or tournament, they always check the first place and last place person, i've found. i was in a 3-on-3 basketball tournament when i was in grade 6 and i remember going into the last game, playing for the D-championship ( the last place game) and thinking that "hey we should throw the game and get last place that way at least people will see our names." unfortunately we won and were lost amid the pile of amateur sports losers, never to be seen. as if we could've thrown the game. it was a battle. anyways, as we crossed the line i was proud. i'd come last. my name would be seen and people would say "that guy, altough he isn't an athlete, sure has heart" it was noble to slow down and cross the line together.

i ate some orange slices and drank some water.

i walked over to the window that the times were posted on and...

i was second last.

i was hungover, dehydrated, my feet hurt and i was second last... not even good at losing.

the grass is always greener, and/or, get up, get up , get dancin' dancin', get up and move that body.

for some strange reason i've felt the overwhelming urge to pick up and take off in the night. pack my bags and disappear. when i surface again i want to end up in this little village. maybe i will farm sheep.

really though, i would probably lose my mind out there. i'm not ready to settle down, as much as i wish i was. i want to want to read books in that brown cabin with the red roof. i want to want to farm sheep. i want to want to be isolated in the dark. this is a feeling i always have and i think it's representative of an overall unhappiness. it doesn't bottom me out to think of it as that because it's something that i recognize and realize i can change. i want to be able to enjoy my envisioned ideal life now, yes, but i feel like i'm getting closer to that then ever and once i can actually exist in this mellow/neutral state then i will really be happy. at the same time, what i see as my perfect place now will no doubt change by the time i get to the point of actually enjoying it or even experiencing it and knowing this takes the edge off. i'm sure that certain aspects of what i want now will remain in my final place but not all of them.

the thought that one is happier elsewhere always. the unhappy are always happy somewhere else.

i want to smile in detroit, and then i want to visit gjogv.

i'm also pretty happy where i am.

the three feet around me.

nostalgia is a good place to live if you don't pay rent

...

...

and with that he grabbed his branch with its little kerchief tied to the end and sauntered his worn out boots through the gravel and the dust and headed off down the old dirt road behind his parents cottage, a copy of leaves of grass tucked away in his satchel.

when he awoke he was covered in sawdust and snow and the top button of his plaid coat was undone. his cellphone was ringing and it was the utilities company.

"i thought i was allowed to be here. i'm not sure why you are so upset with me."

the other end of the line crackled and hissed and then dissapeared.

the tick of his wrist watch came back to life, as did the mild pulsing pain in his side and the thought that in two more days he had a car payment to make.

in came swelling strings and pictures of the pacific northwest.

howling wind and truncated cbc radio weather reports.

his father telling hunting stories in the shack.

oh, get me away from here i'm dying...

the incredible whiteness of seeing

more on the way...
i feel like a little boy.
i want to go skiing.
or gt'ing.
or anything.
computers are for adults.

Support article for my blog last week on interpretation

here is a perfect example of what i was talking about. doesn't this record sound amazing before you even hear it?

and thanks to emily for the tip.

Bon Iver,

it wasn't planned. The goal was to hibernate.

Justin Vernon moved to a remote cabin in the woods of Northwestern Wisconsin at the onset of winter. Tailing from the swirling breakup of his long time band, he escaped to the property and surrounded himself with simple work, quiet, and space. He lived there alone for three months, filling his days with wood splitting and other chores around the land. This special time slowly began feeding a bold, uninhibited new musical focus.

This slowly evolved into days filled with twelve-hour recording blocks, breaking only for trips on the tractor into the pines to saw and haul firewood, or for frozen sunrises high up a deer stand. All of his personal trouble, lack of perspective, heartache, longing, love, loss and guilt that had been stock piled over the course of the past six years, was suddenly purged into the form of song. The end result is, For Emma, Forever Ago, a nine-song album comprised of what's been dubbed a striking debut by critics and fans alike.

Bon Iver (pronounced: bohn eevair; French for "good winter" and spelled wrong on purpose) is a greeting, a celebration and a sentiment. It is a new statement of an artist moving on and establishing the groundwork for a lasting career. For Emma, Forever Ago is the debut of this lineage of songs. As a whole, the record is entirely cohesive throughout and remains centered around a particular aesthetic, prompted by the time and place for which it was recorded. Vernon seems to have tested his boundaries to the utmost, and in doing so has managed to break free form any pre-cursing or finished forms.

For Emma's tracks consist of thick layers draped in lush choral walls, with rarely more than an ancient acoustic guitar or the occasional bass drum providing structure. Vernon sings the majority of the record in falsetto, which painfully expresses the meanings behind its overt, yet strangely entangled words. This newfound vocal path acts as each song's main character and source of melody.

Despite its complexity, the record was created entirely by Vernon with nothing more than a few microphones and some aged recording equipment. This homemade aspect shows itself in sections as creaks and accidentals are exposed in the folds of the songs, but is hidden well by the highly impressive and almost orchestral sound that Vernon managed to produce by his lonesome, within the creaky skeleton of his father's cabin.

explain me this:

friend test-2008

i'm always unsure who my real friends are.

this morning i realized that if i'm willing to take off my headphones to say hello or to chat then i consider that person a friend.

i was thinking about it because on my walk into work i ran into my friend malissa who also had headphones on and i popped my headphones off to walk and talk with her and she pointed out how sometimes you just don't want to run into people because you are listening to a good song and just want to exist in that bubble for as long as possible. i agree. it's a nice place to be sometimes but i'd rather walk and have a nice talk and get called a "nancy boy".

children of mother nature

i am a child of mother nature.
who needs a radical sabbatical.
before he gets tortured in the orchard.

sincere words by Malibu, Trevor Davis, etc.

fuck you michael stipe

why do i blow everything out of proportion?
how come everything comes down to being the biggest deal in the world to me?
do i really just thrive in all the drama and intensity cause i'll tell you right now blog readers... i hate it!
how come every decision seems like a doozy?
is it the end of the world as we know it?
i'm so upset that i'm going to throw my beer in my pool.