Making Noise

It's about: 

Struggling to love, about fearing hurt, about being unwilling to feel, viewing emotion as a weakness. Self control and objectivity being equated to indifference and apathy.

It’s ilogical you want it though and no one’s goin to stop you so you 

Take what you don’t need you’re making faces til you bleed a bead of 

Sweat upon your brow somehow bet you never speak aloud the 

Secret you can’t keep it try to beat it from your mind 

last time/this time/next time 

She’s mine you know until I cross the line although 

I fight to stay afloat I feel a tightness in my throat and still  

I’m making a lot of noise
I’m losing my voice

Sometimes I know the words I choose— Dumb lies to hurt, this tongue can bruise
Young minds my crime’s that I’m confused: A win is usually a lose
These lips can sin but it’s no use; These teeth were made to tear and chew
You better race away from here, I never want to say, my dear,
‘forever’ to your face, I fear these clever lies contrived to keep this
Dream alive disguised as a warm reality lay down with me
Don’t let me speak, I’ll likely fight ‘til words grow weak still
Wary of what I might say, I’ll carry on, still, anyway and

I’m makin a lot of noise
I’m losing my voice

I don’t believe these stories thrown at me you know I crave your company
You run from me, you’re done with me, afraid to fall in love with me
Yeah—Love—it’s what I’m yelling out, I’m spelling out, I’m shelling out
Uselessly consuming all my time and energy without a doubt
I’ve made a mess of me; I can confess wholeheartedly my clumsy chemistry
It seems it’s testing me, my sanity; it simply makes no sense to me
Tell me again, express to me simply in words that are your own
Why you won’t stay as my queen bee, my heart’s a hive to call your home

I'm making a lot of noise
I'm losing my voice

What I’m craving’s much the same thing that once made me run away at first
It’s strange that I should thirst for words that I could count somehow as curse
Containing unheard verses sung eight billion voices strong they urge,
Encourage us: “shake with us, make noise and sing along!”
But I resist this distant mystery tight-fisted, lips pressed, listening
Don’t mess with me, arrest this thief—she’s run off with my heart
Uncharted seas I’m forced to chase her through these challenges I face 

Confuse my senses, she’s relentless in her pace, still I pursue.

Photo by Samantha Ramsay

If you catch me drooling...I was probably contemplating questions like these

What are the essential qualities of humanity? How do we discern them? How are we unique among living beings? How do we know that we are not coming up with self-serving answers?

How do you define logic? How do we know that the idea of logic is not simply humanism, and merely a creation of the mind? What is the relationship between emotion and logic? Can they actually be separated? Is logic emotionally satisfying? Should it be? Is emotion a valid justification for decision-making? Does logic leave room for conclusions that are detrimental to the self? Is there only one logical conclusion to every problem?

Is empathy a morally positive trait that indicates character or simply a humanistic self-serving socially encouraged endeavour? Can one be TOO empathetic? Can decisions made based on empathy be destructive (or at least unconstructive)? Can dealing with social problems without empathy lead to more logical and sustainable outcomes?

Is it human nature to serve one's own interests first, or can we work towards a common good at a sacrifice to our personal desires? Is selfishness and greed a fundamental characteristic of the individual, or a byproduct of a society? Is it possible to have both freedom to act (and therefore encourage personal ambitions) and maintain a selfless attitude?

Why does the conservative Right appeal to the most selfish people who don't care about the well-being of others as well as religious groups with mandates of generosity and selflessness? Is the idea of a benevolent and honest government simply an unattainable ideal or are there actually places where a strong majority of people are satisfied with their leaders? If such a government came into existence, should it be given more responsibility for other facets of society, or should the gov't whittle itself away as it achieves success?
To what extent are people's political beliefs tied to their view of human nature?

Who is more of a hero: the soldier who refuses to follow orders that are contrary to his beliefs about politics, religion, or social conscious, or the soldier who follows the same orders because he believes they essentially come from the highest level of government, and assumes that there may be more justification/information than he has access to?

Would a smaller population of humans create a higher quality of life and benefit the environment? Why is it considered inhumane to mandate stable population numbers? Is it human nature to feel entitled to having any number of children or is that mentality a product of society's values that have become ingrained in our ideologies? How long-term should we be planning for when making political decisions?

Is it acceptable practice to strive for an unattainable ideal? Is it possible NOT to strive for an ideal? Is it acceptable to justify one's actions by appealing to an unattainable ideal? Is it better to strive towards the ideal of a benevolent, honest, and attentive government OR a benevolent, generous, and aware population? Are grass-roots movements how change I created? Is that how change should be created? Is changing the minds of policy makers easier than changing the ideology of the society? Essentially, is change created through top down (marketing/propaganda/law) or bottom up (judicial activism, subversion, protest, boycotts)?

WHO KNOWS?

NOBODY does. don't kid yourselves.

What's a Vole?

Ishan: Do you know what a vole is?

Mom: It’s sort of like a mole but...

Josh: ...vicious. That’s why it’s a ‘vole’ with a 'V'.
...
Ishan: ....what?

Mom: no. It’s not a vicious mole, but it’s similar to a mole.

Ishan: How can you tell them apart?

Mom: well, the vole is smaller

Josh: also, the vicious mole has fangs.

Mom: No they do not!

Ishan: I heard that Uncle Gilbert found voles in his basement.

Josh: That’s why they had to do renovations afterward. Complete destruction.

THE PURGE

this one's for the friends of the 'facebook variety'
you'll creep me til the end, but then you'll never say hi to me

yeah i passed you in the hall and i saw you look away
and if you ever tried to call, well I would have nothing to say.

left hand up in the air, make a fist, find the courage. 

right hand on the mouse, pull up your list, let's do the Purge.

Don't hate me.

Burnt something and forgotten memories

" essay due in 9 hours. Guess I better get started-- Boil the kettle...it's gonna be a long night! And... There is nothing like the smell of burnt eggs. Nothing.  " 

---Josh Manerikar, February 10th, 2010. A facebook status update.

You know...nothing has really changed. 8 hours til my paper is due, so...8 hours til I get to sleep. It's almost frightening that I can look back nearly two years and realize i haven't learned from these mistakes. I'm on the same couch, drinking tea. Just to top it off.... someone burnt something on the stove tonight, too.

If you'd like to waste time and relive the past too......

http://archivedbook.com

Unsolvable Smile

Everyone has their weakness
When things go black and blue and bleak its
A place, a Love we can run back to
Yea you all look away but you know that it's true

Everyone has their secrets
Pieces of ther soul--out of view out of sight
We wander, we're wanting someone who can keep it
Always hoping, never sure, but who knows--they just might

Everyone has a blindness
But we keep searching in the dark
So we can be sure we'll never find it
For God's sake hide the matches and stamp out the spark

I don't want answers
I don't want to know
I'll take my chances
Broken heart in tow

Do you love me to pieces?
The cracks, the tears, and all of the creases?
Do you know me completely, inside and out?
Twisted up into knots, strained, and turned upside down?
Do you see all my fractures, my follies, my flaws?
My bared teeth backing up my ten cowardly claws?
My traps and my holes and all of my pitfalls?
My stumbling blocks, stains, my unscalable walls?

'Cause yeah I love you to pieces
And oh, all the while
My downfall will be my weakness
For your unsolvable smile

I'm makin' a lot of noise
I'm losing my voice

The Leaves, They Fall

The leaves, they fall, in love with the ribbons of sunshine 

that weave softly through the branches.

They fall, for the sweet wind's honest whisper,

reassuring and sincere.

They fall,while wrapped up in tiny seeds, 

whole trees wait to be born and given chances.

The leaves, they fall, again and again, 

just in a different way this time of year.

Torrent fail

Sometimes when I am downloading a torrent, it will tell me that the estimated time left is something like 3 years, 14 weeks, and 22 days. And then I start thinking about what my life will be like by the time I am finally able to watch the 3rd season of Arrested Development. And then I realise that if i spend this much time watching torrents download, i'll probably not be in too different of a situation in that foggy future.

Worth the wait? We'll find out when i'm 25.

Fake Plastic Pyramids

If the Ancient Egyptians had discovered how to create and manipulate plastic, the pyramids of Giza would have been ten times larger, more durable, and likely a more interesting colour, such as the luxurious blue of Lapis Lazuli. Most importantly, there would be thousands of them. Pyramids for the masses.

Christmas Cards

The mailman came, I grabbed the mail.

Two Christmas cards. Open them, read them.

"Hope you have a nice christmas, Love Uncle Willie and Aunt Lorraine."

The second card was from Aunt Marg and Uncle Dale, same friendly message.

These people are very thoughtful, but they are not my relatives.

I check the envelope, and unsuprisingly, they are addressed to Mrs Susan Broomfield. We have been getting her daily mail for the last year and a half. This Christmas, however, her cards will not be returned to sender like every other bloody envelope.  They will be in my living room, next to our tree with a skull on top instead of a cheesy angel. THIS tree is the REAL DEAL.

Shame on you, Susan, for not giving your relatives your new address.

And thanks Aunt Marg and Uncle Dale, Uncle Willie, and Aunt Lorraine. You're the best (Send money next time please)!

The Silence of Wisdom, the Brashness of Youth

The fulfilling ambiance of the empty room

The flickering light darkness dares not consume

The call of a voice with no face I can match

A memory faded--no name to attach

Press on feeble heart still in search of a truth

Yet unknown and unfavored, courageous, uncouth

Reveal the secrets with mind's claw and soul's tooth

Of the silence of wisdom, the brashness of youth

The purpose intangible, unknown and disguised

Reflecting horizons buried deep in your eyes

Stride forth in pursuit, onward to some end

Claim success/exploit hindsight, 'victory' you'll pretend

In spite of false progress and, in consequence, pain

Ever blinded by feverish faith still you feign

You cry starward for justice-you trust this, but why?

The law that you seek lives not in the sky

That death may bring answers we live on to enquire

Through science and love, conversations 'round fire

We anticipate freedom from the shackles of earth

Seek solace in no less than the spirit's rebirth

Chase on, restless lover of learning the wonders

Pursue secrets and magic as spiritual plunder

Eternally eludes your logic and steel

It's not easily cornered, not meant to reveal

Restless I wander and wonder and woe 

Wherever whenever whyever I go

Fate, luck, chance and choice through each high and low

Prove time and again to be both friend and foe

(and so)

Press on feeble heart still in search of a truth

Yet unknown and unfavored, courageous, uncouth.

Reveal the secrets with mind's claw and soul's tooth

Of the silence of wisdom, the brashness of youth.

Two Paths Diverged...

Written by hand, when I could not sleep. 2.55am.

I approached a fork in the road. ‘Two paths diverged’ ahead, though not in opposite directions: neither path veered away, but only gradually did they drift apart. Entirely unremarkably, one road seemingly paid the other no attention. Nonchalant. Indifferent.  Faced with this junction, I analyzed both choices. Neither looked particularly worse or better. They were all but indistinguishable; everything I knew about what lay ahead on each path I had learned from the past. They would inevitably lead to further junctions, bends, twists, hills and other geographical oddities that ornament the days of all our lives with trials and decisions, problems and solutions.

I cannot remember the first fork in the road that I passed, but it would have marked the moment where my mind became self aware, and understood the intangible concept of choice (and its logical consequence “WHAT IF?”). I would have chosen the left or the right, depending on some conditions or factors that hindsight would have later rendered unimportant. Trivial. Irrelevant. What matters is that the choice had been made. One foot in front of the other, I would have strode forth, cautiously optimistic and yet with one eye on the adjacent and meandering path that was not chosen.  No doubt my mind would have been keen to remember that choice, and as the unchosen path meandered alongside, I would see it begin to drift away, aiming for the horizon.  But before that path would have reached its goal and drifted out of sight (or was it I that had drifted?), I would have seen it fork, then fork again. Simultaneously, the path I would have been traveling on would split as well, and I would be forced to make another choice before moving forward. At that moment, I would look behind me to the previous fork, trying to reiterate and recapture my reasoning and motives that had ultimately made me choose this path. Consistency would be key in reaching any goal. Contradiction would lead me in circles.

Then I would have glanced to the path not chosen and its various forks, bends, weaves. Each fork had two arrows, essentially road signs presenting the two options. I would not have been able to read the arrows: my path had drifted too far from the other; it was now shrouded in the deceptive fog of the unknown. Knowing I should not be concerned with the unknown paths, I walk forward choosing, say, the path to the right (or was it that path to the wrong? To the left?) At the consistent rate at which time passes, I would have made these decisions, each choice adding to the myriad of possibilities that could have been chosen. I assume this is how the story of my first choices went, because I do not remember.

At night, I would stop and sleep, and I know that the dreams in my head was simply my spirit skipping across the yellow fields to other paths, seemingly at random. Had I made different decisions, those dreams might have been a reality, for better or for worse, and I would be dreaming of my current situation. Not in the ‘there’ of my dreams. Those paths could have been chosen, but they were not.

Where might I have ended up if I had chosen the other path when making my very first decision, that ignition of the Primary Choice? Those paths have long disappeared over my horizon. Or have they? Perhaps at some point the other paths have joined to the one I am presently on. I have noticed other roads merge with mine in the past. Surely there must be multiple ways, varying methods of reaching the same end? If they all end up at the same point, then fate has a firm clutch on my mind and soul, and stopping to ponder each direction could be viewed as a waste of precious moments of life. I would just be a rat in a maze and it’s only a matter of time until I find the one way out. And as I ponder the value of pondering...it strikes me that every path essentially does lead to the same destination: they all lead to the unknown -it actually doesn’t matter which one you take, they DO all have that consistent destination. Hence, fate might as well exist. I do not know whether this is tragic or cause for celebration. Another path to choose, I suppose. My mind wanders...

Here I stand at this present dilemma, seeing two seemingly identical paths only slightly deviating from each other. One to the left, one to the right. Of course, I seem them as virtually identical now, but in time I will look back and I will not be able to imagine a starker and more fundamentally contrasted set of options as the ones I am faced with presently.

Now suddenly, I begin to question the rules to this game. Say I choose the left path, and as I wander along it, I keep my eye on the unchosen alternatives. I imagine I frown as I realize I might have been happier on the right path. Can I turn around, trace back my steps to the junction of importance and select a new route? Is there a way that I can I return to the point I was at? I might not necessarily regret the path I chose, as it would have given me its own share of life experiences, and the wisdom and knowledge to know I would not make that choice again. Can I change directions in mid-swing, drop everything and run?

I would suppose that if I tried to turn around and run back, the result would be similar to those dreams, nightmares where no matter how hard I try to run backwards to the junction of concern, I gain not one inch of ground. I glance ahead again. It’s impossible to tell if my current path will meet up with the desired goal. Curse the fog of the unknown! It feels unwise to continue this direction when I have no passion for it.

Uncertainty might seem to slow me down, but then I think of the hunter tracking the herd. He saw the deer herd bolt out of sight when alerted to his presence. They headed west, but the hunter does not simply set his compass west in pursuit of the goal. Instead he stares at the ground, cautiously tracing the tracks. He knows that if he runs west, eyes on the empty horizon, he will never catch his prize. Only by following the footprints one at a time will he have any chance of reaching his wandering, elusive goal. It would take patience, to be sure. But the only way to not lose grasp of the goal is to not lose sight of the plan. One step at a time.

Presently, I still stand at this fork. I know I will not be able to turn back once I choose, but that each final decision leads to more final decisions. Only by keeping my eyes on the trail directly in front of me, and only by keeping my mind on the goal, will I have any hope of finding satisfaction. With that, I need to pause to determine the goal, and then the plan. 

Because even though all roads lead to the unknown, we still have the freedom to decide what we want to learn, know, understand along the way...and it’s ultimately wanting to make these choices and taking the initiative to imagine our own opportunities that gives rise to each divide in the road. Carry on.

Some Days...

....everything just turns out right. You drop your pen, but catch it mid air, so as to save you from bending down an extra two feet. Points!

...you wake up and feel okay about not feeling okay about getting out of bed. And you know that's okay, but you still gotta get up, and you're okay with that too.

...people call you instead of you calling them all the time. This feels good.

...you're so swamped with stressays and tests and projects--but you feel a subtle calm throughout it all.

...singing out loud feels like a pretty natural thing to do.

...your hair seems become one with your soul, and precisely expresses your personality.

...you hope that future you will remember this day as a clear vignette of who you were, even as other memories start to fade.

...small victories seem more important than the big loss.

...are just another day. ...or so you think.

...feel like something resembling a new beginning, for no specific reason---

--like that split second when you wake up, 

and you have no idea who or where you are.

 ---like a White Blank Page in the middle of a book. 

Reading along, word by word, line by line

but this page requires a second look.

White Blank Page

Mumford and Sons

Good Morning.

Some days...it's time to wake up.

Spicy Song of the Week

My room is a mess. Like REALLY bad. I feel like a girl it's so bad. Clothes strewn on my desk, papers in the laundry hamper. Hangers hanging on clothes. Pens in the random cup, coffee in the pen cup. No wait...THAT one is the coffee cup...i don't even know.



Starting tomorrow (yes...it's always "starting tomorrow") I'm gonna have to clean up my act. Eat better, sleep better, clean better, and pay my bills better. Time to get back in to shape. Time to write more, time to spend time with people who have time to spend time with me. onetwothree go!


This song/band is critically acclaimed. In fact, Darcy just texted me his opinion, saying "I think Angus and Julia Stone are my new favourite band." THAT'S how good they are.  So let me share with you a song of theirs, and explain the significance of it to you.

Big Jet Plane

Angus & Julia Stone

Down The Way

Ok everyone knows i'm a critical guy. If a movie has a flaw, I will find it. Whether it's the acting, the script, the plot, the photography, the lighting, the settings, the music--I will find it. If a book has a flaw, I shall point it out. If a live show is lacking, you'll know. If I have a flaw, it's all I can see/ If you have a flaw, leave it up to me.

But early one morning, as I was driving with Nichola, this song came on, and I went quiet. I had heard it several times before on a CD she had burned for me, but with the night lights flickering in the cool air and not another car in sight as ours wound down the hill, something clicked, and suddenly i was holding back tears.
This song was perfect. Every single note and word and simple melody and rhythm had been done exactly the way it was meant to be done. They had created exactly what they had set out to create, and this song had such a crushingly real identity. It knew precisely who it was and the impact it could have. This song is perfect.

And then I got to Thinking. I've been terribly critical of things and people and ideas. I can't let anyone see things the way they see them or be the way they want to be because there's a better way, and they need to find it. Nobody can relax around me, because they know i'm watching. and judging. Then I noticed that the people who don't point out everyone's flaws tend to be more enjoyable to be around, thus having more friends who call to hang out. I don't have those because I push people away with my criticism.

And then I realised there's a difference between listening to a song for ways it could be done better... and dismissing the song as imperfect and continuing to search for better songs that i can identify with. Every song has something to offer, just as every person does. Cue emotional piano music as we sum this up.

I've been harsh on people, and I feel bad for it. When a song plays, we should listen, and when people are around us, we should also listen. There's something worth hearing, and hitting 'skip' on a friendship will leave you alone. Yes, I'll have victoriously pointed out a flaw that everyone else saw as just being human, and yes, the truth will be heard by them either to their face or behind their back, but who am I of all people to skip anyone? I am so flawed.

I found a song that is exactly what is was supposed to be--not entirely because of the song, but because I listened patiently and intently enough to understand it.

You probably won't think this is a perfect song. But that's not the point, nor do I care. Just celebrate the fact that a song has triggered such an overdue realization and desperate resolution in me.

Worst Buy

I used to work at Best Buy. I sold computers, laptops, printers, and my soul for a few extra bucks when i got back from traveling the world. I was good at it too. I was honest, I listened, I didn't pressure, and I didn't upsell or add on crappy extra service packages that were a total scam.

And none of the staff liked me. 

I had nearly daily run-ins with one of the supervisors who held the keys to the cages in the back where all the laptops were stored. every time i sold a laptop, i would have to go track her down (she never answered the pages over the intercom) and ask for the keys. I would usually sell 6-8 laptops a day, and she got extremely frustrated every time, to the point where she would take the keys and throw them across the backroom. I wanted to throw HER across the room, but she was MUCH MUCH too heavy for that--years of built up anger and depression in the form of pounds.  But instead I did nothing and just kept selling laptops. I would quit/be let go three weeks later.

Today I went back. Everyone remembered me, which I find impressive, since my three weeks of employment was over two years ago. I took in my laptop so they could tell me why it wasn't working, and had a nice conversation with one of the staff.

J: Hello.

Best Buy Dude: Hey, it's been a while!

J: Yeah I'm just tryin to figure out why my laptop isn't turning on, can you help me?

BBD: Sure. *Fiddles with power button, and the power cord and the escape key, only to realise i was telling the truth and that it won't turn on.* Well, looks like we'll have to send it away for an expensive repair. Would you like to buy a new laptop instead? 

J:uhhh..noo...and i believe it's still under your 3 year protection plan, so i shouldn't have to pay.

BBD: Oh. Fine. Well, before we send it off, you should get your data backed up.

J: good idea, thanks.

BBD: It'll cost ya.

J: Oh then i'll just do it myself at home.

BBD: (speaking slowly) Hmm...I'm not really sure how you're going to be able to do that...

J: (mocking him) hmmm..then i'm not really sure i trust you to work on my computer if you don't know how to do that. *Walks out*


Best Buy, you suck. You try and take my money, you try and take my happiness, and you try and take my computer. NO. I will not let you.

I have taken my computer home, and FIXED IT MYSELF. How do I know this? Because i'm typing right now. How did I do this? I don't have a clue..

OH..THAT'S how you cut a bagel.

When I first moved into this house, I used to make bacon, egg, and cheese bagels every single morning. I ate like a king. It's not like all those ingredients weren't immediately available to me while living at home, but when i finally struck out on my own, a certain sense of empowerment came over me, and i realised that i can make whatever I want---indeed, i would only be eating whatever I made, so I better make something I want.


Anyways.


I eventually gave up on this specific meal because a) my bagels were never as good as Tim Horton's version, and 2) bagels are really difficult to cut because where do you hold the bagel while you're cutting? I have visible scars from being unable to solve this problem. One of my earliest memories is of blood literally PUMPING out of my  finger early in the morning, and I had to go wake up my parents to make the bleeding stop. But first I took a picture.

So how do people cut bagels? It's a frightening endeavor for sure.. there's just so many dangers, and people have various ways of protecting themselves:

Or more drastically...

Or less effectively...

But then this last week, i finally figured it out. if you take the knife, and aim the tip of the knife for the HOLE (not the whole) of the bagel  and slowly cut around the bagel instead of taking the whole thing on with one cut through. This way, you can still hold the rest of the bagel and simply rotate it as you cut. YES!


Did everyone else already know how to do this? I feel undeniably intelligent due to this discovery. Don't ruin that for me.

Come On--Caaaammmm

Come on inspiration! I know you're there! Every single day I'm being exposed to new places, people, activities, mindsets and cereal flavours! Where's the spark and stroke of genius that I naively believe I once possessed? Why all this silence? Well..a small triumph-- I wrote a song! And HECK, since I have nothing better to write, let me share they lyrics with the small handful of you that still fumble and stumble and bumble along to this page. It's called The Fence.


There's a fine line between love and jealousy
Between fighting for your time
and fighting for your love
and letting you be

What do you want from me? 
What can I give to you 
To make you love me?
Just like you already do.

There's a gray space between
where your plans end and where mine begin
Between shutting you out
and letting you down
and bringing you in

There's a fine line between apathy and chill
between sitting back, relaxing,
or hitting a standstill.

There's a gray space between a push and a pull
Well whatever the case may be
I don't feel very comfortable.

We can't take back 
the time we spent
Not making up our minds
Sitting up on the fence


I need to get out and meet more people people. More Real people. Less BS and more COOL. Less like who I slip into being and more like the person I'd rather become.  More people who have some sort of discretion for who they call friends, and yet treat everyone as potentials.  More people who speak truth. More people I can trust.

grr.

Teeth of the Wise

My wisdom teeth are coming in.

of course, I could have said that a weekend two years and two weeks ago too. For it was on said weekend while i was camping that suddenly in the bitter cold of 4am, my wisdom teeth caused some of the most excruciating pain I had felt since...the last time I teethed. I was forced to emerge from the warm tent and wander aimlessly sucking on ice cubes until I could no longer stand the bite of the cold against my gums. I'd then spit them out and breathe vigorously as the brainfreeze set in. All this as I went from campsite to campsite stumbling out of the trees to ask anyone who was awake for a couple tylenol, holding my head in my hands. I was eventually given a whole bottle of tylenol 3's or something, which over the course of 8 hours i downed half of.

I would become psychotically depressed for a few weeks after this until the tylenol worked its way out of my bloodstream.

Exactly two years later, it happened again.

and now two WEEKS later, i'm once again away from home, and my jaw is killing me. NO i will not go to the dentist. NO i will not go to the front desk of the hotel and ask if they have tylenol. NO. If my teeth want to fight me, i'll fight back.


I need to find something to do tonight. This is gonna be a long summer. But usually we say that with a smile.


Woohoo for movies and music and books. How's it goin?

Oh the wonders of working on the west coast while wining and dining on...KD?

This blog started way back when, with me talking about how I was off to Vancouver.


Well I'm baaacckkk!


I'm here working this time instead of hitchhiking with weapons-dealers, but hey...it was a free trip again, so i'll take what i can get (plus it's actually whistler, which is 'nestled' in the mountains). I will try not to spend more than I make, which basically means going to the (still overpriced) store to buy and make food. There's no excuse--my room has a kitchen. However, i was thinking...

If they stopped putting such ugly people on our money, perhaps we'd spend less of it and be more inclined to keep more attractive faces in our wallet. Think about it. I should run for PM and change the world with sexier money.

Check out this Spicy Song, cuz I love it.

Is There A Ghost

Band Of Horses

Cease To Begin

This song actually reminds me of Iceland, and we used it as a basis for the sound of 'Lost' in some ways, but traveling anywhere reminds me of this song because I discovered it flying over Greenland as I began Josh And Darcy's Epic Adventure. Good times.

Also, the New Pornographers song was written about Vancouver, so it is in some ways fitting. Though I'm not a huge fan of their songs in general...but i am a huge fan of vancouver. Go Canucks? Oh yesyoubetcha, go Canucks. Why? because they have skill, and Calgary doesn't. See that bandwagon? I jumped on it...for now.

Josh is busy this weekend,

Please leave a message after the tone.