neighbour update: his name is Jeremy

Tomorrow is the day the Band and Martin Scorsese filmed The Last Waltz, in 1976. I feel as though I should leave Jeremy a letter telling him that, and asking him to watch it again. Or maybe just a letter saying

Jeremy and Emma,
Could I borrow The Last Waltz?
Signed,
Merely a Wall Away.

Always a source of entertainment, they are.

Anyway, someone said the greatest possible thing they could to me, the other day. I was stepping out of Dark Horse (where I've spent an inordinate amount of time lately, it's just so much closer than Manic and Ideal Coffee... and I'm in love with the barista who likes Edward Sharpe. And the one who laughed so much when I made a 'that's what she said' joke.) onto the sidewalk, Spadina... and this middle aged man, with a heavy accent said behind me, "That is a beautiful colour combination you are wearing. I am a painter, and I love colour. It is beautiful, I wish there was more colour like that around". I was so taken aback, I had just said to someone the day before, those are the kind of people I dress for. People who look to see. I told him it was the nicest possible thing he could have said to me, about my clothing, and walked with him for a few blocks out of my way. He studied at OCAD when it was just OCA, and was from the Czech Republic. It might be the best, most meaningful compliment I've ever received. Oh, and I was wearing dark red brogues, mustard yellow tights, a short, dark red jacket over a green and black knit sweater, with a navy purse... One of those outfits that you just feel right in, and clearly this man thought so too. It was wonderful.

Also wonderful: I was sitting in Dark Horse again today, writing a letter. To quote precisely, I had written, "... a fascinating person. And I usually reserve that term for the bearded man in plaid slacks sitting in the corner, reading about existential motifs in Russian literature, that I never talk to or see again..." The letter progressed, and I ate more scone and drank more latté. Then suddenly, in walks a bearded man wearing two plaid shirts. Not slacks, alas, but enough shirt to compensate. Okay, interesting. Then he sits across from me. In the corner. And pulls out a book. On. Nietzsche. I was so disconcerted, I just got up and left. I had completely concocted this figure in my head, and he suddenly just appeared. I stole the 'existential motifs' thing from Annie Hall, which is brilliant, by the way, but this guy was the personification of what I had written. It was uncanny. My heart actually started pumping like crazy, it was so weird.

Anyway, Annie Hall. Go watch it right now. Woody Allen is so frickin funny. And uh, I so know who I'm being for Hallowe'en next year, and/or every day until then.

Annieway, I have a lot of homework to do before tomorrow morning, and considering class was cancelled today and I had the entire day to do it... I should be ashamed of myself. HA. 

I've been singing Dylan's original "It Ain't Me, Babe" a lot lately. You should probably listen to it. 

B

seeing blue is an individual experience

I've wondered that, forever... Is what I see as blue the same thing you see? And if all the colours are relative to each other... everyone might be seeing something completely different, and no one would KNOW because we have the same name for different things! It's wonderful, it is. That's from my Colour text book. I have a class called Colour Explorations. Clearly, I'm in the right place.

Neighbour update: They're not breaking up anymore, which sucks because I really hate Emma. She got mad at him last night for... oh shoot I can't remember what it was. They were flirting loudly, and suddenly she started crying, and he's like whaaat the heck? And she had some stupid reason, something that he said in they're fake flirt fighting offended her... So dumb. Anyway, tonight it was 'welcome home' sex at like, 6:00, which means they'll probably do it again before the night it through... Oh my GOODNESS this is repulsive.

I'm doing this project, an appropriation of this photo. The project is just appropriation, but I've chosen this... So I'm rethinking the idea of 'beauty' because this photo is sooo glamourous and classically beautiful, and delicate, and all those conventional sort of things... But now, ANYONE can be beautiful, so I'm taking a self portrait that explores 'interesting' as opposed to beautiful. Raw. High fashion. Make you question what's going on, rather than just sit there and have beauty hit you over the head. So I went to Sephora and said, hey, do what you went to school for on my face... And the girl was so excited, everyone goes into that place saying 'make me look natural'... Case in point. So she went to town with purple eyeshadow, blackened my eyebrows, made everything super intense and over the top... We wanted to block out my eyebrows completely, but didn't have the materials... It wasn't until I left that I remembered I had a gluestick in my backpack (holy art school) and we COULD HAVE, but oh well. This looked pretty sweet too. And the looks I got biking home, oh baby. I love drawing attention to myself. I'd much rather be interesting, than beautiful, and I mean that. Anyway, I'm printing off a self-portrait with all of this makeup, and the turban, and putting a couple layers of resin on it, with a chunk of rusty chain link fence replacing the lace... About 18x24. I'm excited to finish it, I'll probably have photos. Also, I just had a shower, and as a sort of experiment, didn't touch my face... Turns out, it's insanely waterproof. Seriously, not a speck of it moved. Impressive, I think it was mostly Makeup Forever... and she AIRBRUSHED ME. It was awesome. As if I was worried about the rain, on my way home...

My neighbour is playing the guitar. I have a love hate relationship with this guy. And check out this site, I might have to start something like this... although he's cleverer than me.

B

lend me your eyes I can change what you see

I can hear every single frickin thing that goes on in the apartment next to mine. The good news is, he has excellent taste in music, and the other night I fell asleep with my ear pressed against my bedroom wall listening to him watch The Last Waltz... He also has a piano and guitar which he plays frequently. The bad news is, he's in the midst of a break up with his girlfriend. Not only does Emma have a really annoying voice, but according to an angry phone call to a friend, that happened very close to the wall, she cheated on him, but he did NOT cheat on her. They fight bitterly, often, and in the middle of the night. He spends a lot of time drinking, judging by the clinking of bottles, and playing his heart out on the piano, lately. I feel for the guy, I really do. But the worst news of all, however, is that last night he called her, woke me up around 2:00, and when she arrived, they proceeded to have angry break up sex, merely a wall away from me. And she never stopped talking, the whole time. MAN she's annoying. And it's extremely uncomfortable when you can hear the frickin bed shaking, and her running commentary...  And I've never actually seen this guy, nor do I know his name. I just know hers, because he begged her not to go one night. It's a dramatic situation, let me tell you.

On the other hand, my neighbours downstairs are really great. A freelance photographer and a professional squash player. Who knew? We barely ever see them, but I seem to have encountered them a few times lately, taking out the garbage and whatnot... Cool guys, fo sho.

Anyway, please listen to a lot of Mumford and Sons. They might be my favourite right now. I recommend... The Cave, of course. Or Little Lion Man. Enjoy!

B

careful with that axe, Eugene

I changed the address... and here we go again. I tried tumblr for a bit, which I've decided I love to read, but not so much to post on... Anyway, we'll try and get this ol guy up and running again.

For now,
The National, Fake Empire

B

I only have one problem with your new crush. He doesn't seem to wear any underwear.

My brother's remarkably funny reaction to seeing the Rolling Stone and nearly naked coverboy in my back seat. Please be aware that he doesn't take himself this seriously. This photo is in fact very ironic. Oh, and I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall last night, just because I wanted more Aldous Snow... it wasn't that funny. Brand was the best part. And Peter listening to the Smith's Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, in his breakup mourning. The chick that Peter falls in love with, reminds me of myself, a little bit. Hm. I'll think about that a little bit more. Just the stuff she says, how she says it.. And, I mean her current life, not her crazy, breast-baring, crazy boyfriend, dropping out a movie to Hawaii past life. Okay maybe I shouldn't have said that, because I can't really explain why I thought that. ANYWAY, moving on.

Back to the topic of my brother, he's on this eighties kick, which is hilarious. Usually he's all about this crap pop, hip hop whatever (though he's fiercely opposed to rap) but lately I've been coming home to him sitting at the computer, blaring Foreigner and Chicago. Now if I can only get him listening to David Bowie and dressing like Michael Jackson circa Beat It...

Pff, I'm going to start dressing like Michael Jackson circa Beat It. I've got the white t-shirt/dress shirt/socks and loafers era down, but I could use some white deck shoes and old school skinny jeans.

My friend Kristen is just as into MJ as me, but has the emulation advantage of being a dancer. This was fun: 

This post was kinda short. And wander-y. It's a rainy day kinda post, if you know what I mean. And seeing as today is a rainy day, that's alright. I'm even listening to the 'it's raining' playlist on Steromood.com 

My song recommendation today is that entire list, especially this one; Sea Legs by Addie Brownlee

B

I love it when things like this happen

Last night, I went to see Get Him To The Greek. Alone. At 10:00. The girl who was supposed to write the review this week (I write for a newspaper) couldn't, mere hours before the deadline. So Brittney heads to Peterborough on cheap night, to watch a movie and write a review. It was actually hilarious. Predictable, but hilarious. Mostly due to the sex machine that is Russell Brand. It is truly unfortunate that he's getting married to Katy Perry, I promise I have much better taste in music. Don't go see this with your parents, by the way, unless they like Led Zeppelin (and their lifestyle, times 10) and are all about the whole sex/drugs/rock and roll to the MAX thing. It'd still probably be awkward though, I mean Jonah Hill gets raped by a prostitute that... nevermind. But it's the clever, and apparently improv one liners and dry, perma fried delivery of Brand that I like. Jonah Hill plays Aaron Green, a young intern at Pinnacle Records, who scores his career making opportunity; fetch super rock star Aldous Snow from London, and deliver him safely to Los Angeles for his career resuscitating concert at the Greek Theatre. Snow is a raging drug/sex/rock and roll addict, who's a brilliant musician but gone off the deep end. Much debauchery and consumption ensues. I can't even begin to quote it, I want to go see it again, with a notebook to record all the hilarious conversations. Such as:

Snow: What did you think of African Child?
Green: I hated it. It was a mistake, worst thing to happen to Africa since the apartheid, etc etc.
Snow: I hate you. Who do you think you are? I respect you for telling me that, but that thin layer of respect is peppered with hate.

Oh just watch it. Oh, and the title of this post is in reference to my walking into the library, dreaming of Russell Brand, and my delight in finding him on the cover of the new Rolling Stone. I took it.

Also, on movie watching note; Kick Ass. Wuh-ierd, man. Like, I think it might be a dark comedy? But it's not that funny. If it were marginally less serious, it'd be comical, but despite the fact that McLovin is in superhero tights and a wicked wig... it's too intense to really laugh very much. And the cute little girl from 500 Days of Summer is a crazy, killing fiend! Plus, not a Nicholas Cage fan. And, it's really long. This guy decides to be a superhero... but he mistakenly gets credit for killing a whole bunch of bad people, and so then the bad people's boss tries to kill him... And all of this killing occurs with all involved wearing ridiculous costumes and using outrageously intense killing devices and techniques... it's just weird.

To counter; The Princess and the Frog

N'awww. I watched it with my music teacher. It's all in New Orleans, and the music is wicked. And it's frickin hilarious. Not in exactly the same was as Get Him To The Greek, but you know what I mean. I haven't watched Disney princess movies in so long...

Okay, enough movies. How 'bout some music. Band of Horses, I've been into them lately. And Bob Schneider, but mostly for this one line in 40 Dogs (Like Romeo and Juliet)

You're the colour of the coloured part of the Wizard of Oz movie

What with my colour fixation, and everything, and everyone having their own colour... Oh! I'm also reading The Portrait of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. It's brilliant. I keep underlining stuff that I want to reread and think about more later, and I've nearly underlined something on every page. But, back to colour. There's a quote, that I can't quote right now, because my book is downstairs and I'm not, but it's something to the affect of, just do something until you recognize and can remember the colour of it. I can't find anything to prove this, but I'm pretty sure Wilde had synesthesia. I'll find this quote later.

Okay, I'm sleepy, I'm going to bed.

Band of Horses - Laredo

B

quickly

I stumbled upon something magnificent. www.stereomood.com


Also, this morning I heard a song, I Dreamed I Saw St Augustine. The title was SO familiar, but it was by a band I'd never heard, Dirty Projectors. As soon as the guy started singing though, even though I've never heard the original, I knew it was by Bob Dylan. And these guys do a beautiful job. I haven't listened to it again yet, but you probably should.


More later,


Don't Worry I'm Yours - Jason Mraz, Bobby McFerrin and Israel Kamakawiwo'ol


B

not everyone is into listening to a skinny man with a big nose from Hamilton sing quiet songs

But I am, I am! Check this guy out. He's super cute, funny and awkward, happily married, and plays beautiful, warm, light brown stuff. Saw him at the Spill the other night, after Missy Knot and Sam Ferguson which was also good, but pretty conventional. Except for the djembe. They would have been kinda simple and boring without it, but the djembe made the performance remarkable.

ANYWAY. To account for my absence as of late, I will post photos. 

So, I was at a Blue Jays game. Uh, I'm not sure, my mom just decided we should go to one. So, there I was, sitting in a far from packed baseball stadium, and to my delight, there arrives a cute little hipster boy, with ironic glasses and a plaid shirt. Alone. So, I observed for a bit, and took a photo, just because he was so intriguing. I texted my friend about the whole situation, I mean, what twentysomething unathletic looking guy comes to a Blue Jays game alone? And I said to my friend, I bet his name is Ben. He looks like a Ben. And I was THIS close to going to talk to him, and whoop, there he goes, leaves after the third inning. I didn't think anything of it, until the next day, when my friend gave me the new MGMT album. 

Second from left, Ben Goldwasser. Looking a little more lively here than when he was being stood up at a baseball game... And to think, I was about to talk to him before I even knew he was in one of my favourite electro pop bands. Actually, pretty much the only electro pop band I listen to. AND his name is Ben. Wild. 

In further Famous People Attending Blue Jays Games News, Rich Terfry, just my favourite radio DJ ever, was also at the game. I found this out after he dedicated a Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings tune called "I Learned the Hard Way" to the first baseman the next day on CBC Radio 2 Drive. Have I talked about ol Rich before? I'm pretty sure CBC Radio 2 is broadcasted all across Canada; listen to it weekdays from 3:00pm, I think? You'll fall in love with this guy. I'll leave it at that. 

Oh, and I went to New York City. 

It was a band trip. Fun stuff from start to finish. I really do love that city, mainly for the following reason. 

I've been to New York a bunch of times, but different context this time.

 Broadway. Unimpressive, actually. Shocking, but let me elaborate. We saw Chicago. The dancing was incredible, and my super amazing dancer friend said it was really good too, so it was legit good, not just looked good. And the singing was adequate, I mean, nothing breathtaking, but not noticeably sub par. The band was a) visible the entire time, which was awesome, and b) ecshellent. I watched them most of the time. What killed it for me was the lack of set. Which would have meant the pit band wouldn't have been visible... but to me, it just seemed cheap, and asked a lot of the imagination. Which is fine, but I mean, my school performed Urinetown last year with 1/39874 of the budget, and had an incredible set, built by the wood shop. A black stage with the band on black risers just doesn't seem very... Broadway. Secondly, Matthew Settle. Yeah, Rufus, from Gossip Girl. He's flat in that, put him on a stage and you want to bang your head up against the wall. He was so bad it was awkward. He could sing enough, but he is NOT a stage actor. Barely a screen actor. Ugh. And finally, they obviously messed up once, one actor tripped and nearly fell on top of Roxie. Which could have been slicked over and barely noticeable, if they hadn't all BURST OUT LAUGHING. Dude. You're professionals, right? I was disappointed, to say the least. 

Brilliant, non? MoMA. Love. 

Oh Andy. My favourite. Although I always forget how much I like Picasso until I'm looking at it. But they can't really be compared, can they?

And you may have heard of the naked people exhibition. The Artist is Present, it's called. It was the entire sixth floor of the place, and it's closing at 4:00 tomorrow! Go see it! Now! It made me really uncomfortable, in that good art kinda way, you know? There were just naked people... facing each other, standing up on supports on a wall, laying under skeletons, running into walls, laying facedown on the grass... A looping video of women dressed up as peasants, running around in the pouring rain in a big field, flashing their lady bits... weird stuff, man. All of the naked people that were physically there were beautiful, too. An interesting observation. Perfect body types, men and women. At one part, you were supposed to walk between a naked man and a naked woman who were barely a foot apart. After conducting an in depth social experiment, I concluded that everyone, men and women alike, faced the women when they sidled through. So I faced the man. And very nearly touched his wiener. 

No photography allowed at that exhibit. 

And that pretty much accounts for my absence I think. I'm not working at The Crossroads anymore, WHOOOOO! Lifeguarding it up baby. Oh, and gold and gold at Nationals. I love jazz. Oh I almost forgot. Birdland at 11:00. Amazing. I need to find out the name of the group we saw, they've won a Grammy apparently. She had a schmexy voice, and the combo was so tight. They did a groovin jazz version of one of Joni Mitchell's earlier folk tunes, from the Blue album, California. I was almost crying, it was so good. I recommend that song, the entire album is incredible. I only ever listen to it if I can sit a listen and not do anything else while I'm listening, for fear of missing something. However, today's song du jour will be straight up funk. What about this. Soulive jamming on Hendrix's Crosstown Traffic. Quadratic FunkShun, a wicked funk band from Peterborough does this arrangement, and it's 

mind-blowing. Enjoy. 

Peace

B

Blogging didn't make the list, surprisingly...

The best comment on my outfit today, was by an old man, in Zeller's. Well don't you look sharp, he said. And he meant it. He wasn't creepy or anything, he just enjoyed my outfit. This happens a lot, probably because I wear clothes that their wives donated to Value Village. Other than that, it was the whole up-down-raise eyebrows-tuck chin thing, by blonde people. But, I didn't go downtown. People in downtown Peterborough like what I wear. 

Please laugh. I don't actually take myself this seriously. 

And this is the, oh crap someone's driving down our road, this is awkward, quick, pretend I'm not actually taking pictures of myself shot. 

Anyway. The shirt is from Sympathy for the Rebel, a cool vintage shop downtown, the belt is from Vall Vill, but apparently from Bluenotes, because my friend has the same one, and the skirt is from H&M. 

Also, I picked up a dress I just had hemmed today, I'm excited, there will be pictures soon! 

While I enjoy talking about what I wear, probably a little more than I should, we've nigh approached the real impetus for this little post. This little delight, "Stuff White People Like" by Christian Lander. Hilarious. You know why? Because it makes fun of us, but is undeniably true. And guess what #103 is on the list of Stuff White People Like. Self-deprecating humour. This book is genius, not only for it's irony (#50) but because, well, it describes me to a tee. A creepy, depressing, irrefutable tee. Strangely enough, shortly before I stumbled upon this book, I wikipedia'd Hipster, because that has become my high school label, and I was wondering about it's origins. You're damn right I'm a "character who likes hot jazz". That's what it meant in the 1940's. Now, 

"Hipsters are the friends who sneer when you cop to liking Coldplay. They're the people who wear t-shirts silk-screened with quotes from movies you've never heard of..." 

Time - July 2009

Dude. We're not that pretentious. And Apple Dictionary said, "a person who follows the latest trends and fashions". I resent that. I like the derivative of 'hep cat' better. So while I can laugh at how accurate this book is, there are parts that were unfair. I'm rolling my eyes at myself right now, by the way. This book was essentially describing 'hipsters', and referred to those blonde people that give me the stink eye about wearing their grandma's shirt as 'undesirable white people'. Okay, I'm still with you. #1 was Coffee, and seeing as I was sitting in Chapters, sipping my latte like no other, I can't deny that. #14 Having Black Friends. Coolness should be directly proportional to how black you are, and unfortunately, I'm as white as they come. So I compensate by playing bass in a jazz band. But now I'm going to defend myself. #10 - Wes Anderson movies. I've met one person who likes The Darjeeling Limited as much as I do. The person who told me about this book, actually. So I guess, I'd be the one person they described that actually laughed in the theatre, making it okay for everyone else to join in. Another thing I didn't quite understand was what they said about Kerouac's On The Road. This just keeps popping up everywhere, doesn't it? In the White Annotated Bibliography, On The Road was described thus: "I read this book when I was sixteen years old. I would say that by the time I reached page 2, I knew I wanted to be a writer." (Note: Advanced white people are disgusted by people who like this book.) Okay, so I'm not an advanced white person. I want to be a photographer, not a writer, another profession that every white person thinks they can, and will, be. Oh, and under All Victorian Novels, "So your favourite books are Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights and Vanity Fair? Convenient that they've all been turned into movies, don't you think?   Well, I haven't seen any of these movies, and the glory of Vanity Fair was in the satirical prose of William Makepeace Thackeray. I really DO like sushi, vintage clothing, acoustic covers and non-American news sources. Also, "If forced to select a Bob Dylan album, white people choose Blonde on Blonde or Blood on the Tracks." Both excellent albums, but I'm a pretty big Desire fan... I was surprised that The Velvet Underground made it onto The White Person's iPod, especially when Andy Warhol, purveyor of all things very white and American, was not mentioned. Modern Art Museums were, however. I guess the only things that 'offended' me were parts where the author seemed to think people didn't actually like these things, they just said they did because there were a few who legitimately DID like them, and looked down on those who don't. Hm. And in most cases, I do legitimately enjoy whatever the thing was, like Vanity Fair and Wes Anderson movies... and while it makes me happy if you do too, it's entirely okay if you don't.

Buy this book. Read it. Perhaps my favourite part was on the last page, 

This book was set in Helvetica, a typeface 

created in 1957 by Max Miedinger and

Eduard Hoffman at the Haas'sche

Schriftgiesserei, a type foundry in

Münchenstein, Switzerland. It has be-

come the official font of white people. 

Whenever a white person opens a store

or restaurant they must create a sign that

uses Helvetica, justified bottom right or

left. They love it so much they even made 

a documentary (see #57) about it. 

Guess what font this blog is in? Uh, Trebuchet, actually, but you get the point. 

In the spirit of white people music, 

Ridin' In My Car - She and Him

B

my wife and I were addicted to strolling

You know you're musically deprived when the best song you've heard all day was by Green Day. But thankfully, at the last minute a Jimmy Eat World tune came on at work. GIVE ME DAVE MATTHEWS. Listening to Regina Spektor now, I'll be okay. 


Back to this whole Kristen Stewart deal. I think they're just cashing in on her star power, rather than any sort of legit acting ability. I mean, she's not TERRIBLE, but someone a little more powerful would make me happy. I guess my issue is more that they're going to destroy something so beautiful. Case in point: 

In the middle of the night I got up because I couldn’t sleep, pulled the cover over baby’s brown shoulder, and examined the L.A. night. What brutal, hot, siren-whining nights they are! Right across the street there was trouble. An old rickety rundown roominghouse was the scene of some kind of tragedy. The cruiser was pulled up below and the cops were questioning an old man with gray hair. Sobbings came from within. I could hear everything, together with the hum of my hotel neon. I never felt sadder in my life. L.A. is the loneliest and most brutal of American cities; New York gets godawful cold in the winter but there’s a feeling of whacky comradeship somewhere in some streets. L.A. is a jungle. South Main street, where Bea and I took strolls with hotdogs, was a fantastic carnival of lights and wildness. Booted cops frisked people on practically every corner. The beatest characters in the country swarmed on the sidewalks---all of it under those soft southern California starts that are lost in the brown halo of the huge desert encampment L.A. really is. You could smell tea, weed, I mean marijuana floating in the air, together with chili beans and beer. The grand wild sound of bop floated from beerparlours; it mixed medleys with everykind of cowboy and boogiewoogie in the American night. Everybody looked like Hunkey. Wild negroes with bob caps and goatees came laughing by; then longhaired brokendown hipsters straight off route 66 from New York, then old desert rats carrying packs and heading for a parkbench at the Plaza, then Methodist ministers with ravelled sleeves, and an occasional Nature Boy saint in beard and sandals. I wanted to meet them all, talk to everybody... (p.187 Kerouac)

Now, try turning that into a movie. You can't, you just can't, and that, that raw, simple prose is what the novel is all about. To take that away, and simplify it into a he said, she said, visual piece is impossible. It's depressing, it really is. 

On the bright side, I was just about to write about something, when I heard this line from On The Radio:

And we listened to it twice

Because the DJ was asleep

And I was just about to say how happy I was that this happened to me the other day. Weird. It was just so... human, and personal, and proved that there was actually someone there, controlling it, rather than it all being automated and cold. It was These Roads Don't Move by Ben Gibbard and Jay Farrar. And, we're back to Jack Kerouac - full circle. This tune is based on his prose, written for the movie Big Sur. Which I haven't read or seen, so I don't have a lot to say other than his writing makes for awesome lyrics. 

My brother's watching the hockey game, and this is what I just heard:

"My wife and I were addicted to strolling. We just strolled... everywhere. Then I tried Viagra. And the strolling just kinda... stopped." Hilarious. 

That's it for now, 

On The Radio - Regina Spektor

B

kill me now

Kristen Stewart has been cast in On The Road. Ahem. &^%#$(*&@#&*(!)(#@$*&%&*$($#(*$#%&*($#5
Seriously. This is one of my favourite novels on the entire planet, Jack Kerouac one of my favourite writers, and a depressed, lip chewing pathetic vampire lover has been cast as one of the most intriguing characters. What is this world coming to. Keep this in mind though, if Miley Cyrus had been cast, I would have propelled myself off the nearest cliff with very little hesitation. This is blasphemy. There should be a committee of realistic people who have to approve which novels can be rewritten for the screen, because we all know that the movie is never as good as the book. I've never met anyone who thought, in general, otherwise. So why do they keep doing it? Write something knew, use the theme you like from the book or whatever, just don't RUIN something beautiful. Frick. I'm actually so annoyed right now. Imagination is dying faster than... something that dies fast. This novel is such a brilliant myriad of colour and noise and emotion in my mind, the second it becomes something organized and solidified, it will be ruined. And what was special and exclusive about Jack Kerouac, the cult appeal, the individual relationship the reader had with him will be entirely obliterated by the nine bucks of a cinema ticket. Frick.

The Underdog - Spoon

B

Awesome O'Clock

It's been a while, but I assure you, it's been a crazy, amazing while. Actually. All I can complain about right now, is that it's over, but that doesn't really count does it? There are plenty of fluffy things I could write about, but they can wait. Right now, something of substance;

So I went to Ottawa this weekend, for the Rotary Adventures in Citizenship program. Skeptical? Me too. I went because my guidance councillor called me really late at night (well like, 9:30, which is late for a teacher) and frantically told me they needed someone signed up yesterday, would I please do it? And, it was free. But it was actually one of the coolest things I've ever done, and I rounded out my Top Three I Love Canada Moments List. More about that in a sec.

There were over 200 kids, representatives from every province and territory, flown/variously transported to Ottawa for FREE by Rotary. The students were housed by Rotary members and friends of Rotary, which is such a great thing to do... The lady I was with, Laurie was incredible; an awesome person all around, a lot of fun, beautiful, incredibly kind, and sincere.

Physically, what we did was visit the House of Commons, the Supreme Court, met our MPs at a banquet, listened to Ambassadors from around the world, met Justin Trudeau, danced, went to the War Museum, sang, read poetry, witnessed immigrants become Canadian citizens, explored beautiful Ottawa, sang Oh Canada in all twelve keys, and ate mass amounts of good food. But what's going to stay with every one of us forever, was the incredible unity and patriotism we felt and created in four days in Canada's capital city. The students who were there were selected by their principals, teachers or guidance councillors, or competed; only one from each school. The result was the most well rounded, enthusiastic, fun group of students that I've ever been part of. Everyone there missed as many practises, gigs and extra-curriculars as I did, and resenting an 80% wasn't pretentious. Saying goodbye after such a short time and saying 'nice to meet you' was the most confusing feeling; it felt like we'd known each other forever.

I can't begin to cover everything, but this moment stood out to me; Clapping and cheering until my forearms ached as we watched the immigrants became Canadian citizens. Some were saying that Canada should have been named Heaven. It was truly a life changing moment for so many of them, and that this moment was witnessed by young people from every province, and that they could sing Oh Canada with a voice from every province and territory for their first time as a Canadian citizen was one of the most emotional things that I've ever witnessed. This pride for my country was only surpassed by the emotion the first time I saw Vimy Ridge, and truly grasped the gratefulness of France to my Canada. And followed by, I must say, that moment when all of Canada erupted into a screaming, cheering mass when Crosby scored.

I have a new perspective for politicians, as well; one MP asked us if we felt that politicians were somewhere up there with used car salesmen. No one put up their hand, but it was kinda awkward, because we did. He then asked, where do we get our perception of politicians? The media. Do we feel that the media accurately represents teenagers? Touché, touché.

I also had a really interesting discussion with a kid at the War Museum. We were discussing the Avro Arrow, and the hypothetical repercussions of it being a success. In a nutshell, the Avro Arrow was an airplane designed by Canada after WWII that was essentially better than anything we have now. We built 5 (thanks Wikipedia) but due to cost, etc., the project was scrapped by the Diefenbaker government. We were saying, while it's a tragedy, had we succeeded we would be the hegemon.  At the same time, we said... "But I'm okay with not being number 1". Some American's wear Canada pins when they go backpacking across Europe, because, basically, they like us more. Being from Canada is truly a privilege. So our stereotype is self-deprecating, modest and friendly. Explain to me how that's something to be ashamed of.

In short, this weekend was an incredibly experience, that I will actually remember forever. And, here are a few of my new favourite Canadians :)

François from Hearst ON, Lindsey from Halibuton ON, Amanda from Golden BC, Colton from NS, myself and Thierry from NB. I miss you!

Also, handing my camera to a stranger and asking them to take a photo is hilarious. There are people that have never looked through a viewfinder before. I actually thought one girl was going to have a panic attack when she saw all of the numbers on the screen.

Oh, I got into OCAD. Celebratory dance. Also, I decided I'd be entirely okay with playing paid gigs as a bass player in a jazz combo for the rest of my life.

Well, there was nothing cynical, sarcastic, or ironic about this post at all. I'm actually still buzzing from how incredible the last week has been. And to top it all off, I just bought Jakob Dylan's album, and it's awesome.

Lend a Hand - Jakob Dylan

B

quickly

This is what I wore today. I didn't expect it to cause such a ruckus. It's a skirt that fit kinda awkwardly, turned into a dress, over a t-shirt. Old ladies at Nata's liked it. They said I was young and pretty and could do clever (yes, clever) things like turning skirts into dresses. Girls my age liked it, at PLUSH. Wee little grade 8 girls liked it at my mom's school. And every man I met made it known how much he liked it. That's the part that threw me off. I've worn shorter skirts, and not gotten near the reaction. And these guys weren't saying "nice" because they appreciated the mixing of patterns, or the watercolour affect of the skirt. Oh no no. There was something about this outfit that drew serious attention... even in Peterborough. Hm.

Also, ignore the laziness of the photo; I had about 5 minutes to get a shot before I had to, wait, LEAVE FOR A RECORDING SESSION. Yeah. It was cool. But more about that later, I'm wicked tired, and wanted to post the photo before it was irrelevant.

Oh shoot, I need a song. Okay, Wasting Time (Stay) by the Dave Matthews Band. This might be the greatest song written in my lifetime. Try to find a live version with back up vocals and an organ accompanying the sweet sax lick. Ha, sweet sax lick.

B

Art Attack

Our tax guy arrived today, at dinner time, like he always does. Which is fine, I mean, it's just funny. The first think he said was to Ryder, our dog. He said, "I like you, because at most of my client's homes, the lower half of my right leg is mistaken for playmate of the month." Hilarious.

To say I've been busy for the past few days would be... a baldfaced lie. As opposed to the little fibs with facial hair. I guess I only consider myself busy when I'm doing things that conflict with each other... or that I don't really want to do. Well, I started working. Did I blog about this yet? Yepp, weekends, washing dishes at a small restaurant in a smaller town. Called the Crossroads. At least they don't play the country station. I feel slightly more entitled to the blues, however. In 60 years, I can get out my guitar and my harmonica and wail away about dishpan hands, and how (granny voice) kids these days don't know how to make a livin', see, when I was a young whippersnapper... Or in 20 years I can get out my dulcimer, and Joni Mitchell it all up. She probably washed dishes. Every earthy, legit starving artist must have, at some point. That's my only consolation.

I've also taken up art attacking. Read the rest of this post in an English...? Australian accent? It's been years since I've seen that show. But, I Art Attacked a backdrop for the photos I have to do at an impending dance... Neon theme. Awesome. Here is the aftermath.

Thankfully my mother has a bit of an eye. I get so frustrated sometimes, I have these visions of (sugarplums) photos in my head, and no one to enact what I mean... so I try to take photos of myself, but then I don't have myself behind the camera... I can't wait till I'm rich and famous and can hire whichever models I want. Agyness Deyn will be wrinkly and grey haired by then, but surely there will be a new... whippersnapper. 

Speaking of grey things... David Gray. Man, I'm in love. I want to be Stella the Artist. His voice is very distinctive... kind of a beige, chalky sort of colour. With tinges of, dare I say it, grey. Give 'er a listen. Him, and Jamie Cullum. Check out the video of him on youtube, covering Rihanna's Please Don't Stop The Music. 

CLICK ME CLICK ME CLICK ME

The wild jazz solo kills me every time. He's so dang cute, just like his voice. And he's a big Sinatra fan, which I'm all about. 

Before I was distracted by my terrible habit of falling in love with the Singer Not The Song, (I love Mick Jagger too, whoops) I was talking about Art Attack. Inspired by the backdrop, and lacking a neon dress, I decided to get all artsy up in this... nevermind. I bought a cheapy cheapy black jersey dress at Old Navy, and violently yellow bandeau (because the cheapy cheapy dress is kinda flimsy) and a pile of neon fabric paint... And went to town, sister. It's sweet. Surely there'll be photos. 

I just watched that video a linked again, and fell in love with the guy, again. There are so many songs I want people to listen to... so, I just decided! I'm going to recommend one at the end of every post. A sort of reward, if you will, for those who actually persevered to the end. A token of my gratitude. I realize I've already mentioned a couple in this post... but, this is the official, Recommendation de Jour:

The Un-American, by Matt Morris. 

say hello to your doctor

love, 

Toby Celery

My name is Brittney, and it has been less than 12 hours since my last post. Oh boy.

I heard something on the news the other day, (actually, that sentence was a complete lie. I watched TWO somethings on the news, whilst getting my haircut, the other day) that I considered interesting.

Firstly, residents of Halifax unknowingly paid over $600 000 towards the "Please Paul McCartney, come play in our city!" fund. I bet there are a lot of people who are unimpressed by that... but I don't think it's a big of deal as they're making it. For one, $600 000 divided amongst an entire city isn't too substantial... And come on, Paul McCartney was playing in your city, and you didn't GO?! But, this issue here isn't McCartney... I mean, I don't even like him that much... I like his music, and love the Beatles, but ol' Paulie is my least favourite. He's a freakin genius, and he knows it.

It's kinda like the Olympics. It cost us a crap load of money, (and the huge sparkly bear had me doubting for approximately 23 seconds), but wasn't it fun? The Olympics, I mean. When else have you ever felt so damn Canadian. It might take our country years to recover (look at Greece) but for the time being... I regret nothing. Nor do I resent one speck of those two weeks. Except for the sparkly bear. And, we all knew that it'd be expensive... but did we really have a say? At all? Maybe we did, this just occurred to me, and I don't know the answer. Is there a 'where will the Olympics be next' committee, with average, tax-paying representatives? But back to Halifax; what they're ticked about it that they just found out that they paid half a million buckaroos to a knight. Okay, fair enough.

The other thing was, U of T sent acceptance letters to over 160 applicants... accidentally. Followed up with a "we're sorry" email. I was accepted at U of T, and even though I'm not that excited about it, having that acceptance being recanted would be seriously depressing. This whole school thing is not fun, let me tell you. I got my little "We're sorry, but you have not been accepted at the Ontario College of Art and Design at this time, however, we will be watching enrolment closely, and if a spot becomes available you will be notified." letter the other day. But who gets accepted to OCAD and doesn't go? Dang. I wasn't really expecting to get in... but it would've been nice.

I'm posting now because I won't have any more time today... I'm sitting in a little café called The Human Bean in Cobourg, currently. I had a latte, which was most un good, (read, bad) and a butternut praline muffin that was good, good indeed. But, now I must return home and change, go to vocal jazz rehearsal, drive straight to work, try and get off work early, pick up Adam and Jane and Sean and go to my 23rd favourite city, Peterborough. To The Spill to see Quadratic FunkShun, a groovin funk band (surprise surprise) and Candlecave Ensemble, a sweet indie (in every sense of the word... indie as in back when that just mean unsigned, and indie as in the genre) band with a trombone and a violin, amongst the conventional rock instruments. Lotsa lotsa fun.

Happy Birthday Miranda!

say hello to your doctor
love,
Toby Celery

I've haven't posted for a few days, because... well, 'I was blogging' isn't really an excuse to miss... anything. But, I've been thinking about it. I got home last night, and wrote down everything I had thought to write about so I wouldn't forget. That's dedication, sister. Except, now I have so many things to write about, this is gunna be the hugest post ever, and I reckon nary a reader will persevere to the end.


I returned home, which leads one to believe I was on a wild and crazy adventure... Tru dat. I went to Toronto and stayed with the lovely Newcombe's, and Beccah did my grad photos. Cool stuff, hopefully I'll have some soon. We did the classic long-sleeved black t-shirt in the distillery kind of stuff... and then I put on my crazy Betsey Johnson dress, and two crinolines, and we went to the beach. And a gay model told me he thought my dress was hot. I don't understand.


Hopefully I'll be moving in with them (the Newcombes, not the gay model) in the fall, that'd be ideal. Life there would consist of photography, coffee, good food, and good music. And city lovin. I partook in the greatest Thai food known to man, in my travels; Suko Thai, I think? Red chicken curry is my staple, and this was delightful. Creamier, more flavourful and just yummier than EVER baby. But then I went exploring, just north of the distillery... I was scared, man. I was lucky to have made it out alive. Evidently, white girls in skirts don't just wander aimlessly around there... We'll leave it at that, but there were some close calls.


Prior to the big smoke, I went to the movies, alone. And I was entirely okay with that. I saw Date Night, (ironic?) to write a review for the paper... I don't know how I lucked out, and scored a co op that supplies free movie tickets. And it was actually kind of funny, and Tina Fey is damn sexy. But, back to going to the movies alone.


There seems to be a sort of stigma associated with this sort of thing... and I was conscious of that. But, I sat in the middle (i.e. didn't go hide at the back so no one could judge me) and laughed out loud. I didn't even take a notebook to make it apparent I was writing a review. Even though afterwards I wished I had, for convenience sake. I really do wonder if people were going "oh look at that poor girl, she was stood up" or wondering who in their right mind goes to the movies alone... but, if I think about it this way, I probably wouldn't have noticed someone walking in by themselves, and sitting in front of me. And by the way, the only people I like enough to ask to go with me are in a relationship, or would get the wrong idea. I'm in a really strange social scene right now.


But, moving on to the next item on the agenda: CBC Radio 2. I have one true love. And that is The Drive Home with Rich Terfry. I love this guy. And I haven't checked to see if he choses what to play, which is unlikely, BUT, he makes it sound like he does. Even if he doesn't, he knows about what he's playing, loves what he's playing, and makes you love it too. And, he's a cheeseball. And, there are no commercials. One more reason I love CBC? This is how the news started the other afternoon: "Well, the Canadian dollar is really on a tear this week!", followed by the professional economist's input, "Ah yes, that is attributed to, amongst other things, Canada selling a lot of stuff overseas". Layman's terms at their finest.


During my Toronto radio station surfing (there's a time and a place for classical music, but I'm not always up for CBC's Mozart at Midday,) I heard some husky voiced president of The Bay announcing the release of the new Balenciaga fragrance, the first from the designer in fifty years. I was intrigued by the pure sophistication of it all... and so I stopped by The Bay at Yorkdale, and gave it a good ol whiff. Well, it smelled like every other perfume I've ever smelled... and so I just unwittingly tossed the little card into my purse. Which now smells a. m. a. zing.

And, I love this ad. You can see how every piece of inspiration is carried over into the creation of the fragrance. The violet scent IS  revamped and modernized, like the husky voice lady said. And the stopper draws from the marble, and the stone on the left... I enjoyed it immensely. And the beautiful singer-songwriter-actress Charlotte Gainsborough looks so demure and whimsical... I love her hair in this. Oh, to be someone's muse... 

On the note of fragrance, there are very few that I have even considered purchasing. Or, asking for for Christmas. And they are as follows:

Vera Wang Princess. Before it was cheapened and all Rock Princess and whatever, it was really classy, but young. And Camilla Belle is a babe. Very warm, vanilla-y... I still wear it on occasion, but not so much now that that lame-oh schmame-oh new versions have come out. 

Ralph Lauren Rocks. It really does. Citrus and vanilla. Love it. I didn't know anything about the campaign when I stumbled upon this one, it just smells so dang good. It she is lookin pretty fiercely bohemian, which I'm all about. 

Burberry The Beat. I was first interested because I love Agyness Deyn, (naturally) and have always had a thing for Burberry and smokin hot English male models. Then, the whole inspiration behind the fragrance, and the name... I'm a huge Jack Kerouac fan, and the last four digits of my cell number spell BEAT. Anyway, I eagerly awaited the arrival of this scent in Canada, and was pleasantly... not surprised. It smelled how I expected it to, it was strange. Very silvery, edgy, modern... Not soft, but still warm. I wear it often, but it's not very strong, and is usually gone by midday... 

And, last, but certainly not least, Betsey Johnson. The lack of good campaign shots has inspired me to do my own... I never actually bought this one, although I probably would've very soon, had it not been given to me. Due to some shipping mix up, I ended up with two of the same dress I ordered... and when I took one back to Betsey Johnson in Yorkville, cutesy little gay Greg was so happy that I returned it, he gave me a bunch of free stuff. Including a huge bottle of this delightful perfume. It's very strong as can be expected from Betsey. It has a hint of... liquorice, maybe? But I hate liquorice. Hm. It's a very pink smell, very intense... (I'm sorry, non synthesists.) I wear it all of the time. Unfortunately, so does my mother. Oh, and once, in a fit of insanity, I bought that Hilary Duff perfume. I was like, 13, and it DOES smell good. It's very warm, and velvety, without smelling like "vanilla body spray". But, we won't speak of this again. 

Well, there are a million more things I've written to blog about, but I fear this has exceeded tolerable length. To be continued... 

say hello to your doctor

love, 

Toby Celery