THE BOWS! LOOK AT THE BOWS! 

Actually, you can only see one of them. Most recent H&M purchase, is what that is. I think I want the entire new Garden Collection. Especially this groovin red jacket. Do I have a thing for red jackets? Yeah, maybe. 

(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry H&M authorities! If you want this taken down, I will, I promise!)

It's legit high fashion, even though it's at H&M for $70... but then every starving artists who wants a red fluffy jacket will have it. So, I will refrain.

I was driving around Peterborough the other afternoon, and said, aloud, (and I'm not one of those people that just talk aloud when I'm alone,) "wow, I am so uninspired right now". So I drove to the top of Armour Hill, and was just sitting there for a while... Contemplating just how uninspired I was, and considering the concept of a straight woman having another straight woman as a muse... What's wrong with admiring and being intrigued by people, regardless of... anything? Or is there nothing wrong, and I'm thinking too much... but it's been kinda bothering me for a while. Even if it shouldn't... ANYWAY, I was sitting there, yes, in my car, with the windows open and the sunroof open, and the radio loud... I'm such a teenager... when I noticed, hark, an orange post. Now wouldn't that look nice, with a little Photoshop curve adjustment... so I got out my tripod, and self-portraited away. Along with the skirt one, here are some of my other favourites. 

 

Whenever I put this jacket on, I think of My Morning Jacket. Which is strange, because I bought it as a hipster reinterpretation of Bob Dylan / James Dean's red windbreaker... but every time, "Oh, it's spring, lets put on My Morning Jacket!"

  

And this is the inspiring orange post. Along with a gift from the Val Vill gods... Value Village, I actually love you, from the bottom of my very heart. And I don't say that lightly. 

I feel less uninspired now.

Say hello to your doctor

love, 

Toby Celery 

I feel much more inclined to write here, now that I've added the nice little photo at the top, (taken at Haaselton's in Peterborough) and put some thought into the neutral grey/pink colour scheme... I have a thing for grey, I've decided. Like Bob Dylan's speaking voice grey. It's very warm and comforting... but when I look out my window right now, it's as grey as can be, and I feel no warm and fuzzy thoughts towards the outside...

I was reading the magazine in Chapter's the other day (I've probably spent more time at the magazine rack in Chapter's than any other wooden bench in all of Ontario) called Cabinet. It was this great little quarterly periodical (read, quahtehly pehriohdicahl, as if you were reading it at an uppity Country Club in a grey moor somewhere in Britain...) about culture and music and all of those nice grey and yellow coloured clothes and whatnot... There was a column that the editor chose a colour, and the writers wrote a response to it... the colour this issue was black. Now this fascinates me beyond the normal degree of interest, because I have synesthesia, that condition where music and ideas are all associated with a colour (and sometimes a personality, it depends). I wasn't kidding when I said Bob Dylan's speaking voice was grey. The warmest, wisest grey. Just listen to Bob Dylan's Theme Time Radio Hour sometime... His singing voice doesn't really have one colour because, well, he doesn't really have one singing voice. But Desire is deep hunter green, and Blood On The Tracks has a sort of reddish/orange tinge...

I really do think I should be a radio DJ, because I could just talk about this sort of thing, forever. Besides having the jazz musician's appreciative perspective of music, I have this strange and inconceivable colourful perspective...

Speaking of inconceivable, I watched The Princess Bride at my friends' Grandma Doris' the other day. People were always astounded when I told them I'd never seen it, so I finally watched it. All I have to say is, Wesley turned into a DICK. He was so much nicer before he was all "oh I'm such a sarcastic pirate, and I'm good at everything"... I liked Buttercup though, and will definitely be naming my first child Buttercup, male or female. It was cynical and whimsical enough for my taste, and the deadpan humour was great... I do recommend it, just don't expect to fall in love with the guy Hollywood says you should.

I've watched so many movies lately, it's a little ridiculous. I won't list them all, but a few of note...
The Bounty Hunter. Don't waste your money. As IF we could have been at the Spill, listening to groovin live music, but are too poor to leave the theatre after buying a ten dollar ticket... Really bad. The funniest part was the door into the strip club. I'll leave it at that.


New Moon. My favourite part was when Edward told Bella "I don't WANT you to come," and my friend yelled "That's what she said!" I partially watched this movie against my will, but at the same time, now I can legitimately make fun of it. Oh, another great part was when Jacob turned into a werewolf, but then Edward and Bella were trying to talk to him and he couldn't transform back into a human, because then... he'd be naked... HAHAHAHAHA.


Requiem For A Dream. There is hope for the movie industry after all. Well, this was released a while ago... but very good. Jared Leto and Jennifer Connelly... Don't watch it with your parents... but it screws the Hollywood ending thing, which I love. It's an exploration of the concept of doing bad to do good... and who's to say what is bad, anyway? Nicely directed (although the weird montage every time they shoot/smoke/etc up gets a little old...) and painfully sad.


One Week. Takes place in Canada, he Rolls Up The Rim of his Tim Horton's cup, and it says "Go West Young Man". He's dying of cancer, he goes west. Sounds cheesy, but it's not. And, I'm chain drinking Tim Horton's until I find a cup like that.

Okay, I've gotta go, take some pho-tos for my mother; she's getting her students to recreate Andy Warhol's Che Guevara print, with photos of themselves... And by that, she means she's getting me to come in and teach her class how to recreate Andy Warhol's Che Guevara print...

Say hello to your doctor
love,
Toby Celery

I've done poorly.

It's been like, three weeks, since my FIRST post. You'd think, with all the conviction I started off with, I'd have a little more stamina than that... but alas. I've been thinking about this though, don't think I've given up completely. I've been reading a lot of other blogs (style rookie, for one, and a couple others that I can't remember off the top of my head... a lot of photography blogs, anyway) searching for inspiration. Well, to start off with, to get things rolling, get this show on the road, blow this popsicle stand, etc etc etc, I'm gunna go with the standard schmandard "Things I Love Today". I've actually been doing this for months, on an often neglected Facebook note... but blogs are much classier. Please note, that was tongue-in-cheek...  And, I often find my lists turn into confusing, double negative, "What do I like today? Well certainly not BLANK..." kind of things... so maybe they'll just be Things of Today. Hm. Yeah. My TOT list. Maybe not... Well, that's all I've got for now... sometimes my creativity astounds me.

Things of Today.

- I took out my braids from DomRep, and am sincerely hoping that Destiny's Child gets back together, and holds auditions for a white member.

- I found out you aren't allowed to put posters on streetlights in Peterborough... I paid forty fahrickin dollars for those things, you nasty Poster Police.

- Lattice fries are goooood, man.

- I'm going to end up married to one of those Amnesty International guys that stop you on the sidewalk... they hit on me more than every other demographic, combined.

- Writing newspapers articles that are going to be legit published, rather than just marked is tough stuff sister.

- OCAD notices go out on April 9th. I'm scared.

Well, that's it, for now. Do people usually have a signature when they blog? Something like... Stay classy San Diego...

Say hello to your doctor
love,
Toby Celery

hey stranger

Brilliant opening line. The Yazoo Street Scandal is a Bob Dylan tune, by the way... I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to write about here, but I will write. I've a) been inspired to write by Tavi the style rookie, (go to her blog, you'll want to be her,) and by pinkbow, another more recently discovered blogger, and b) to not NOT write by tangledupinblue.blogspot.com, and various other empty blogs with cool names. Please, if you're reading this, and you've made a blog and never used it, DELETE IT, SO PEOPLE WHO WANT TO USE THE NAME DON'T HAVE TO SPEND HOURS OF THEIR PRECIOUS, PRECIOUS LIVES TRYING TO THINK OF ANOTHER, DISAPPOINTING NAME. That's pretty pretentious of me, isn't it, thinking that someone is actually reading this? My very first post? I won't dwell on that, because it's not really the point.

I want to be a DJ, I think. The radio one. The Tom Petty 'Last DJ' kind.

Here goes the last DJ

Who plays what he wants to play

And says what he wants to say, hey hey hey...

And there goes your freedom of choice

There goes the last human voice

There goes the last DJ

Okay! My first rant! Radio. I have a furious love hate relationship with it. I drive, just to listen to the radio. But I've cried over commercials. And AT Top 40. So, my dad bought me a satellite radio for Christmas... and, while it's saved me from commercials, Tom Petty is right. No one plays what they want to anymore; even the live stations that play good music play the same 50 songs on rotation. Why?! I love you, Sirius 18 The Spectrum... but I've had enough of Snow Patrol Just Say Yes. And Bob Dylan's Theme Time Radio Hour... your voice makes me want to curl up with a blanket and tea and watch the rain hit the window, but say what you want to say, for goodness sakes. Someone else is doing all the research for you, and you're reading it. And I really don't like The White Stripes, sir. So, in conclusion (I had to leave for a second here, and have lost my train of thought, and thus, am concluding.) AT Top 40 on repeat should be banned. People should just stop trying, when it comes to commercials... Anyone seen The Invention of Lying? Take a hint from the Coca Cola commercial... And, I wish deejays could play whatever they wanted. Because there's no way they're not listening to their iPods between breaks.