The Thaw Before The Spring: 05/01/2011

The Soundtrack Of Life

Remember those songs? The ones that touched you?

Play those.

Hello Darkness

Embrace the freak in you.

Shelter it. Nurture it.

Closeting only leads to deeper cleanings.

You Said You Were My Friend

But where are you now?

Lust

It's a trap.

We Are Who We Are

Physical disabilities make everyone uncomfortable...

Even those of us who are disabled.

I Hate Blogging

I write all of these half truths all the time.

When do we get to expose our disgusting guts?

Blogging Is Dumb

No one cares about what you think.

You are fooling yourself.

Tennis Elbow

I know - I'm a big yuppie for playing tennis.

Say what you will but this sport actually gets you moving in pretty
fast intervals and using muscles that you wouldn't ordinarily use.
It's good for the body, mind and soul and last year, I started getting
seriously addicted to playing tennis.

What grabs me about this sport is the constant movement. You
HAVE to move. It's not like baseball where you can camp out in
the outfield for hours and barely move a joint. You must be on the
go at all times (if you're playing it right).

When I'm on the tennis court, I don't overthink - I just react.
There are many more better and more experienced than me, and I
will never play at Wimbledon, but it brings something out in me.

It reminds me of childhood and family outings. It reminds me of
my cousins and aunts and uncles who grew up with me playing
it. The 'thock' of the ball makes me think of summer. The smell
of fresh tennis balls conjures up memories of my basement and
sporting closets.

I am your racketeer.

You Can Have Anything You Want

The dreams we dream are not in vain. That world we enter before
we call it quits on the day is an important one. Those places we
visit are as real as they seem because sometimes surreality surpasses
the metaphysical realm.

I've had very specific dreams where I am teleported to places on
a map. Inception wasn't just a movie - it was a depiction of another
reality that we all experience but can't quite put into words.

I have dreams within dreams all of the time. Dimethyltryptamine is
a real psychedelic drug that secretes uncontrollably within all
of us as we dream. What's more incredible is that it can be ingested
in crystal form and it is one of the most illegal substances in the
world.

There is something that happens in our dreams that is dying to
get out there.

The Trappist

Some days, I wander around this planetary sphere and dream that I'm
a trappist - looking for the hides of animals with a shotgun and a dog to
keep me company. Sub-zero nights in small huts with a fire going.
Cases of gunpowder. Meat galore. A tin of tobacco with rolling papers
and a pipe.

It would be a lonely life but a solitary one. One without debt. One
without the desire to impress people. I'd take my hides to town once
in a while, cash in for some dough, see what new whiskeys they were
swillin' at the taverns, and then be on my way.

Back to the open plains. Just me and my dog.

65 Years

Off to Ottawa to celebrate 65 years of a man. 65 years of a provider.

65 years of a father.

There's not much I can say about my dad that hasn't already been
said. He's an incredible man. I think that he is a very sensitive and
emotional man and I wish that I could express my feelings a little
more openly with him, but I think he safeguards his emotions. He
keeps them under lock and key so that he can stay level and on the
ball.

When he and my mom dropped me off at Laurentian University,
we all sat in the car for a minute after I had unloaded my stuff into
my tiny, sweaty res room. My dad said a prayer for me and we all
sat there in the car together. The weird thing is that my dad is not
the type of guy to stop and pray for you, out loud (unless it is grace
for a meal), so that memory has always stuck with me. After the
prayer was done, I had insisted that I wanted to unpack everything
myself even though my mom was more than willing to help.

When my parents said goodbye, my dad choked up. That was one
of the only times I can remember him getting emotional like that.
As they drove away, I stood there on the curb of my residence
sidewalk feeling surreal. It was a hot September day. I felt like
I had crossed a threshold and that there was no going back.

For 65 years, my dad has basically always put everyone else's
needs and desires before his own. He has made do with little or a
lot and he has inspired many. He knows how to work and make
himself stick to something and hit a deadline with the thunder.

65 years.
I can only hope.

The Reasons

Music In The Month Of May

When a lot of your favourite bands start releasing albums again, something
happens to you. Your cynicism resides. Your inner child wants to run through
fields and frolic. Your days seem a little brighter.

You get a new visit from your old friends.

This month, there are quite a few releases coming out (and which have
come out already) that are firing up my bones. Sloan's 'Double Cross' is
one of their finest in eons, showcasing power-pop/straight-rock harmonies
that make the listener remember why they've loved them for so long. The
Foos 'Wasting Light' is also an epic offering that takes you back to 'The
Colour And The Shape' but then blasts past it with relevant truths and
soulful screams from Mister Grohl.

A soundtrack to this life is an absolute base necessity if we plan to make
it through with any semblance of sanity.

Find your friends - and listen to what they're telling you.

I Stood In The Summer Sun

It's comin' on strong. The lake - the breeze - the shore - the trees.

All of it.

The older I get, the stronger of an innate need I have for a property
of my own, far from the city and close to a waterhole.

Maybe a dock...and space for a fire pit.

We played our first softball game yesterday. 9-5 victory. A great
start to a great weather season.

Think light and get low.

Words Can't Do It

May 15th Eh?

Wedding Season Opener

The older I get, the more weddings seem to stack up - both in
the amount of invites and folks I know who are getting hitched.

Weddings are strange animals.

Sure - they are fun and a glorious celebration of good things to
come - but they also suck up a full day and usually require you
to spend money of some kind. There's the cynic in me.

The idealist in me, however, usually prevails and I can say that
seeing my good friend Scott get married this past weekend was
a real treat. Scott was an old roomie on mine from my Guelph
days and seeing that I'm in my early/mid thirties, it's hard to picture
more friends of my exact age getting married soon. Scott was
always a decent, level-headed guy. He never got into too much
trouble and he had a deep level of respect for the others in his
community. He's traveled just about everywhere and has accrued
some pretty amazing life experiences.

I was very happy for him.

The wedding also took me back to some pretty smooth Guelph
memoirs that had myself and a few friends of Scott's in cahoots.
Guelph was a pretty pivotal place in my life. I will always look
upon that city with fondness as I learned many life lessons there.
I connected in community with others like I never had before.
I grew a consciousness. I took long walks around the city and
across the campus. I spoke to the Maker - and He spoke to me.

Bless Scott. Bless Guelph.
Amen.

Carrot Rope

I've been revisiting a lot of semi-vintage material in my catalogue, lately.
I'm finding that 'newer' music is lacking a lot of existential umph - and
yes - maybe I'm becoming a 30+ music snob, but I feel the need to
defend the gooders like Pavement, Dinosaur Jr., Redd Kross and some
of the non-mainstream powerhouses of my musical taste birthplace.

You see, bands like Sloan get it. They understand that to really succeed,
in both stature and sound quality, you're going to have to sacrifice
many things. 1 big thing, which ends dreams for a lot of would-be-
rockers, is the lack of making any serious money. When you write
songs that actually matter, you will never really make money.

If you sell out, for a massive label and an agent, and write a few hits
and sell your proverbial soul, sure - you might make money. But if
you really get the guts and the dirt and the core of music, you'll be
poor forever.

I'm sure that Pavement and Stephen Malkmus and the gang have made
enough to get by, in 20+ years of being in a band, which seems like a
decent trade-off (instead of dwindling away at a call centre or as a
Burger King manager).

True art will always make you look like a fool.

Low On Gas

I'm feeling like my reserves are depleting these days. Each night, I
want to sleep longer than the next. I must be tired out from a hefty
spring season of travel, 13/14 hour days of personal accounting,
and mental fatigue.

Port Hope is, in fact, exuding a few beams of actual hope as the
weather has been scrumptious and both Ultimate frisbee and softball
are starting up imminently.

Time to run again. Time to get up.

You All Along

What a spring season for new tunage! First, the Foos blow it out of the
water with a tape-made record in Grohl's garage and next, Sloan steps
up to bat and clears the bases for a blaster of epic Sloan proportions.
Though there is clearly not enough from Andrew on this record, the
flow and overall sound of this work is grandiose.

Next up; Death Cab. I'm sure it will be good but I'm not nearly as
excited as I was for these first two. Maybe it's because Death Cab
was a late bloomer in my musical tastes and the Foos and Sloan have
been with me for 15+ years.

That's a long time to love a band.

Throat Coat

Sweet bippy lou.

This winter, I decided to kick coffee. Now don't get me wrong - as
a caffeine supporter, I will definitely enjoy a latte or an americano
every week or two, but the daily ritual of coffee is all but gone.
In its absence, I've become a teetotaler.

There's something about the process of tea that I deeply enjoy. The
boiling. The steeping. The small sips that tell you its way too hot.
The waiting. The guzzling.

The absolute lack of sugar or cream or any other artery hardening
substances - and the entry of natural root plants from the earth.

Funny sidebar: earlier this winter, I was obsessed with the throat
coat tea (especially when I had a show and needed to sing). I
brought two bags with me on a trip to Queens when we played a
show on campus in February. I had a cup at about 3 pm with a
friend, but on my very first sip, I scalded the back of my mouth
and throat badly. It did not, in fact, 'coat' my throat. It peeled
back layers of skin. Luckily, the burn was not that bad and I was
still able to sing fine.

I'm having another cup today and guess what? Burned my mouth
again on the first sip. But DAMN it tastes good.

Start Anew

In this life, you get chances.
Chances that masquerade around at fancy dances.
When you say 'None of you understand! NONE OF YOU!'
It's likely that you're missing what's right in front of you.

I spent some time with some friends in Kingston today. It was
the sunniest day of the spring. We packed a bag and walked
down to Lake Ontario and let their dog Echo playfully bat
at the water.

Ah, the life of a dog.

After a day of throwing a leisurely disc around, two good
friends and I played some serious video games while suckling
ample amounts of Rickards Red. It was a tame night. No pubs.
No clubs. No dancing. No prancing. A night in with the lads.

I awoke in Taylors cool basement pad with the Kingston
breeze blowing on my face. More sun. More friends.

Sometimes, you have to do what's familiar in order to move
onward new things.

Beauty.

Low Times And Trials

Sometimes, in the context of a love relationship, the question must
be asked:

Am I the one doing the hurting or are we both hurting each other
by staying in this relationship?

Stay the path. Tow the line. Walk the straight and narrow. Stick
with your commitments. These phrases have rolled around in my
mind for years and it's not always easy to see the frequency and
meaning behind them when things don't seem to work.

There are no easy answers to tough questions. The only answer to
a tough question lies in the form of a decision. That decision must
be made and tended to, gardened and nurtured in the mind and
soul each morning upon waking.

We've all made our beds.

A Rollerskating Jam Named Saturday

Man - it took me a million tries to find a non-remix version of this track.
Good old De La Soul have etched the framework in my mind for how a
Saturday should sound and feel. It's Saturday. Saturday-ee-aaayyy.

I've been getting back into a lot of the old school rappers I've forgotten
about for so many years. Though their voices and beats have been in
my cortex, their thick jams and lyrical heavy content have been absent
from my life.

May is here. Patios come soon. The sun is peeking into my bedroom
more and more each morning and heating me up within minutes.

It won't be long.

Enjoy your Saturday.

There It Is

Practice Makes Perfect

Yes - that is Billy Corgan being hugged by Dennis Rodman.
And no - it doesn't really relate to this blog at all. I just liked it.

I'm playing bass at a concert this coming weekend here at Trinity.
That's right - a musical endeavour right here in ol' Port Hope. I
haven't played bass for a while and as part of a charity concert, I
am playing with two friends (a guitarist and bassist) and we are
medley-ing about 8 pop songs together in mash up. The medley
includes everything from Neil Diamond to Katy Perry to Rush.

Watch for a YouTube link soon.

Miami Vice Action Spectacular

Do you want the rides or do you want the security?
Do you hate the roller coaster but hate normalcy even more?

I've always heard about the Miami Vice Action Spectacular
at Universal Studios in Florida and it is something that has
enchanted my mind for a while. In the movie 'Get Shorty',
the ride is referred to by a Spanish mob boss as pretty
incredible touristy kitschy fun (along with 'seeing the Shark').

I have a soft spot for that kind of inane crap.

Can't tourists be right sometimes?

Moving Day

My stint in Ottawa has officially ended...for a time. I'll be back, though.
Just you wait.

Today, I helped a friend move from Ottawa to Kingston. It sounds easy
enough, doesn't it? Unfortunately, we had to deal with this terrible
company. Maybe you've heard of them - UHAUL? Ring any bells?
Starting early at 830 am (after a night of a few ales to drown some
sadness from the election), Taylor (my moving friend) called a cab
and we headed out to breezehill road in Westboro to get a van. Upon
arriving (after a 12 dollar cab ride), the lady behinds the desk informs
Taylor that the reservation was made for another day and at a different
UHAUL location in Ottawa.

Superb. Taylor was pissed.

After getting a coffee at a nearby mafia cafe in Little Italy, we mulled
over our options. Soon enough, Taylor's dad called him to figure out
what had gone wrong. As it turns out, the location WAS correct and
they DID have a van booked that would take us to Kingston.

Mother...

After a quick turnaround and speedy ride back to Taylor's pad, we
loaded everything in within 45 minutes and booked it to Kingston.
I did the driving. Taylor did the sleeping. The gray, looming day
kept spitting miniscule bits of rain at us. 1 hr and a half later, we
unloaded everything in record time in Kingston and set things up for
Taylor in his new pad. Unloaded in Kingston by 3 pm. Shane wanted
to hit Timmy's and play some vids. We did. I almost slept. Taylor
slept more. I nabbed the train at 7 pm.

Life moves pretty fast.
Back in Port Hope.

But...for how long?

Almost At An End

I've spent another month away. Maybe traveling is starting to actually
get to me - and maybe I don't really crave the road. Maybe I crave a
home. Maybe I desire all that I've secretly been running from - and
maybe the path is beset before me in a technicolour burn.

I make money. I lose money. I start all over again. What's the point
of it? Disconnecting completely from the grid seems to be more
of a viable solution than living in the pangs of debt and stress.

The summer is almost upon us. May is here. More friends have
disappeared and hermit-ized...but more have emerged. I long for
the dirt road and the oatmeal mornings. I dream of lakes. I wish
for family and friends and campfires - and lifting the weight of
guilt from my tired soul.

The road calls, once again. I beckon.

I go.

Woolly Weekend

Dope dance floor jams. Shooter drinks made of sugar, jello and vodka.

These are the things I despise...but can't get away from.

It seems that our culture has an obsession with dance clubs. Tonight,
I went a little buck wild with a few friends. After starting a very
laidback night with a few creemores, my friend Taylor and I had
a nice feel and motion to the evening. The groove seemed to be set.
Darcy McGees on Sparks was a perfect old spot to hear a few singer/
songwriters.

Two pitchers in, all hell broke loose.

Landon showed up with Seb and they decided that we needed to hit
a dance club - and HARD. Fuck. Taylor and I grudgingly but interested
went along for the ride. Zaphods.

We walked into the usual musty fare of Zaphods and the club was
boomin'. In a strange turn of events, though, everyone and everything
inside was decked out in Halloween garb. There were cobwebs strewn
about - dracula types skulking around - ladies dressed as...well...
sluts - and jager bombs being inhaled.

I don't like it - but I sure do study it. The culture of dance clubs is
a serious hobby course of mine.

It would be moot to sum up everything from the night but just know
that the following things happened:
-everyone made it home safe
-Landon danced like a tribesmen yearning for rain
-Taylor got a phone number given to him
-Taylor passed out in the cab and cranked his head against the window
-Taylor and I had a conversation about physicality and relationships
betwixt intermittent pass-outs by both of us

The next morning, I walked out the living room of the place I
crashed at, only to find a nappy-headed Taylor eating from a box
of pizza that I barely remember ordering, shaking his head and
saying 'What the fuck happened last night?'

As awful as those spaces are, there is always bound to be a story and
a bit of a random theme. I think I'm going to write a book called
'Dance Clubs; Sometimes, You Just Have To Do It.'

The Thaw Before The Spring

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Monday, May 30, 2011

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Friday, May 27, 2011

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Monday, May 23, 2011

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Friday, May 20, 2011

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Monday, May 16, 2011

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Friday, May 13, 2011

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Monday, May 09, 2011

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Saturday, May 07, 2011

Friday, May 06, 2011

Thursday, May 05, 2011

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

Monday, May 02, 2011

Sunday, May 01, 2011

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