Evan_Wesley's Xanga

A Time to Shill

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 20:56:20 GMT

You know what blogs can be good for other than serving as personal journals and creative outlets? Answer: marketing tools. By way of confirming as status as a full-fledged member of the "workforce," I give you the following:

Need a golf fix in February?
This hilarious mini putt tournament takes place indoors at STC!

08 and 09 FEB 2008

Teams of six.
Shot gun starts
at 6.45 and 9pm

We're pleased to announce a brand new 18 holes of indoor mini-golf in February, throughout the STC building. The throngs of would-be golfers who duffed their way through the STC course last winter had so much fun, we promised we'd do it again.
Kiss those titanium balls hello and get ready to laugh.

Prizes, food and more fun than you shake a stick at!

$30 per person
$180 per team of six

Teams must arrive a minimum of 30 minutes before their shot gun start. Please be aware of the fcat that if less than 18 teams per scheduled tee-off time register for the tournament, Evan Bate will be terminated from his position as Marketing/Promotions Coordinator. Register now by calling the STC Box Office at 705 674 8381 x21

To register your team, or for more information on this special fundraising event, contact the STC Box Office at 674.8381 x21 or email boxoffice@sudburytheatre.on.ca

On a more bemusing note, I saw a vanity license plate the other day that said (read?) VERACITY.

ve·rac·i·ty

–noun, plural -ties for 4.

1.	habitual observance of truth in speech or statement; truthfulness: He was not noted for his veracity.

2.	conformity to truth or fact; accuracy: to question the veracity of his account.

3.	correctness or accuracy, as of the senses or of a scientific instrument.

4.	something veracious; a truth.

Isn't that just the strangest/coolest/nerdiest plate you've ever (not) seen? If it isn't, please share with me.

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Sun, 06 Jan 2008 07:57:00 GMT

It's been a year since I last wrote something here. Not really intentional on my part, believe me. In fact, this was one of the most blog-worthy years of my life. Maybe you'd like a recap? No? Well, you're getting it anyway.

School's Out Forever?

2007 was also the year in which I bid the academic life adieu – no small event, I'd say. My classmates in this final year were absolutely fabulous, and not once did I get called an "unfortunate chicken" (sorry Angelo). I don't have much more to say about this other than at the end of it all, I was feeling completely burned out and ready to welcome an existence where the pressure to meet another essay deadline would never again keep me up at night and threaten my personal health. At this point in time I won't say that I'm filled with a desire to re-enter that world, but with each mild scolding delivered by my bosses for giving them writing that's "too academic sounding" I find myself wondering what Shannon Hengen is up to…

The Wedding

I got married in 2007. What can I say about our wedding day other than barring a few unforeseen events – the weather didn't cooperate, and the food was sort of lousy – it was as joyous and exhilarating as I'd hoped it would be. A few of you were there to see it, so I guess you'd have a more objective assessment of the day's events, but I hope it was as incredible as I remember it, and I hope you know how important it was for me to be surrounded by friends and well-wishers. It is a wonderful, wonderful feeling to know that there are people who love you deeply and genuinely, and when they assemble together on a day celebrating your happiness, then what can you really say about such an event other than it's one of the greatest things that can ever happen to you. Despite the oftentimes agonizing struggle of planning the wedding and the conflicts –in some cases extremely unpleasant ones—that arose amongst family members and ourselves, I look back on the experience as both life-altering and life-affirming.

I would be lying if I didn't say that pledging the whole of yourself to another human being until the day your die (and beyond that, circumstances of afterlife existence permitting), wasn't sort of terrifying, but despite our differences and occasional hostilities toward one another, there are moments when I recognize that this woman would do anything for me, and with this realization comes a passionate desire to hold on to her with everything that I have. My happiness, safety, health and general well-being are paramount concerns for her; I know, without a doubt, that she genuinely and passionately loves me. And when someone says they've loved you since the day they first saw you, and when they say they'll always be yours, then I think you need to pay them fairly close attention.

Anyway, for those who weren't in attendance, I think my vows contain a much more thorough and heartfelt explanation of how I feel about Terri, so posting them is a more fitting tribute to her, and a better way of expressing the wedding's significance for me:

Terri:

If there's one thing that I've come to understand in the last year living together with you, it's how much I truly need the security of your presence. Being with you gives me a sense of invincibility, as if there's nothing I can't do, and no situation that I have to face alone. It's hard to articulate just what it means to me to know that no matter what the time or place, you'll be there to back me up; to stand close beside me; to let me hold your hand when I feel too much by myself. I know that with you around my potential for happiness and joy in this life is increased infinitely, and so I make these promises to you today to show you that I will do what is necessary to make you see and really feel and know how important you are to me.

I promise always to miss you when you're away from me, and to await your return anxiously and with an aching for the sound of your voice, your laughter and your tender assurances. I promise to long for your touch when the distance between us prevents the sharing of a kiss or a hug, and I promise to see you—really see and appreciate you—when you return home.

I promise to love your incredible physical beauty, but also, maybe more importantly, to love your beautiful soul. There is a goodness and a compassion for others within you that speaks to your commitment to see a world free of suffering, and it is this sense of decency that I find truly irresistible. You know the difference between right and wrong, you have the courage to stick by your convictions, and you know what it means to be a just and empathetic person. I love you for this—don't ever change.

While I promise always to uphold our shared beliefs, I also promise to respect and appreciate our many differences. I think opposites attract so readily because no one alone is without some flaw, some weakness, which they by themselves cannot overcome. Being with you has shown me that your strengths are my weaknesses, and I think the same can be said of you. But this is why we're meant to be together; we make each other better, fuller people than we might otherwise be. You protect me from suffering too severely from my own shortcomings; for that I promise to be forever grateful.

If I have any fear at all in my heart today it's that if I fail to uphold these promises I might one day find myself facing the frightening possibility of a future without your love and comfort. And so I make a final promise to you today: I promise always to understand that without you, my soon-to-be wife and my best friend, there remains only a less capable and a more fragile, weaker me. So I ask you to make a promise of your own to me: To always make me aware of when I fall short of upholding these vows I have made to you. For the incredible happiness you've given me today and throughout all the days we've been together, you deserve only the best of what I can give.

I love you now and forever.

The C Word

I love my mother dearly. In 2007 she was diagnosed with breast cancer. As a health conscious woman with a staunch opposition to smoking born out of the incredibly devastating experience of watching her beloved brother, a heavy smoker, die a horrible death from throat cancer, the results of her mammogram came completely by surprise. My mother is a lovely, sweet and caring woman, and she'd suffered greatly since 2005 with Fibromyalgia– a strange disease whose characterizing symptom is constant, largely untreatable pain. When she was informed about her tests results and the tumour they revealed, she was completely destroyed. The inevitable "Why me?" questioning took hold of her, and our support system, consisting of vague assurances, desperate physical interactions and privately concealed tears, wasn't exactly what the doctor ordered.

But it was the best we could do.

My father, as you can imagine, didn't handle things very well. My grandparents – the memory of their son's death ten years earlier still fresh in their minds – drove them into a scary sort of depression. For my part, I simply refused to believe that the result of any and all medical interventions would be anything other than a complete recovery on my mother's part, and thus my denial of the seriousness of the situation left me relatively calm. When my mother underwent a mastectomy and was declared to be completely cancer free, I was secure in my sense that things turned out as I always knew they would, and that life could now return to normal.

And then my mother asked me if I wanted to see her chest.

Despite my mind's suddenly manic protestations, I nodded just slightly and she lifted her shirt revealing a smooth, nipple-less and now distinctly asexual space. Imagine, if you can, the enormity and intensity of this horrifying intimacy. There stood my mother, a woman I'd always seen as strong and iconic, looking so fragile, weak, and frighteningly, unimaginably revealed. Not only was the realization that she had lost a part of her physical body that had undoubtedly served as a confirmation of her status as a woman, wife and mom a painful one, but the hint of shame that I detected from her as she stood there baring herself to her son – someone she'd tried so diligently to protect from the sadness and pain of life – made my heart ache.

That's all I really want to say about that.

The (Further) Tough Stuff

In 2007, four days before our wedding, at 4 o'clock in the morning, Terri's grandfather, who had been ill off and on for something like ten years, died. I remember being wakened from this intensely strange dream where I was experiencing a sort of breathlessness and loss of stability - a feeling of descending into something dense but not altogether uncomfortable -- by the telephone's ring. In the dream I was in the process of acknowledging that this descendence was death, and to be awoken by the sound of a telephone ringing and your soon-to-be-wife crying is more than a little strange. (I'm not relating this story in an attempt to seem profound. In fact, I doubt the accuracy of this anecdote myself. However, it's a memory (false or not) I find myself returning to again and again, so I suppose its relevancy derives from its persistence.)

This was our first shared experience of death, and if finding oneself surrounded by your weeping in-laws in a hospital room at four in the morning -- a situation that demands expressions of intimacy that are simply non-existent in our usual interactions -- isn't monumental, then nothing is.

Things moved quickly in the next three days; a private, family-only memorial service was held, a small dinner/anecdote exchange took place, and his belongings -- mostly suitcases and clocks he'd picked up from second-hand stores -- were thrown out. In other words, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that this needed to be put to rest (no pun intended) as soon as possible, since to do otherwise would be to take away from the joyfulness of the wedding. As far as his death goes, the timing was all wrong.

What do you say to your wife, your lover, and your best friend, when she loses someone important to her? In my case, you don't say much of anything. In case you're wondering, there is little that can make your feel worse about yourself, or more useless and childish, then struggling to find the words to comfort the one you love most. "Sorry" just doesn’t cut it, you know? Worse still, what do you say to someone who is starting to recognize the rapid decline of their own body, a constant reminder of the inevitability of death? 2007 was a year in which it became unexpectedly clear to me that my own grandfather is going to die, more likely sooner than later. These days he spends a lot of time drinking and crying – he tries to stop short of full-fledged sobbing, and you can't imagine how thankful I am for this. And yet in these moments I'm stuck in this terrible spot; I find myself overwhelmed by a feeling of uncomfortableness. I'm shaken by this tangible evidence of mortality -- this all-too-sudden realization that yes, the man that I fiercely admire and consider an integral part of "my world" or "my family" has become a terribly old, and worse, frightened man.

Yet my reaction to any and all direct contact with this realness of dying has been a tongue-tiedness that is unusual for me, and as frustrating and disappointing as anything could possibly be in life. To find oneself, in these moments of closeness and finality, unable to deviate from the "Business as Usual" nonchalance of everyday interaction characterized by a joking dismissal of life's hardships and a dependence on worn-out clichés to express things that can only remotely be construed as personal thoughts and emotions, is devastating. These stockpiled sayings just want to pour out of your mouth and flood the room, drowning out the impulse to articulate something genuine and novel; the thing you really want to say -- the thing that would encapsulate, in one simple, devastatingly beautiful sentiment, the whole truth of your love.

But I can't find that thing

I think a lot about his eulogy these days, which I imagine I’ll be asked to give. If the thought of losing someone keeps you up at night and brings tears to your eyes, then I guess it's safe to say that you love them.

They Working Man

This year also signaled the start of my "professional" career, as I managed to get a job at the STC as their Marketing and Promotions Coordinator. It's been quite an experience so far, and despite so missteps on my part, I think I'm doing a fairly competent job. The people seem nice, the work is interesting, and I'm meeting tons of new people around the city. It's good to feel like a part of the "Arts Community," even though being on the administrative end of things conflicts slightly with my vision of what it means to be "artistic." But as far as jobs go, there are certainly less inspiring things I could be doing, and despite the idealism of it all, there's still room for that music/literary career down the road.

After all, I'm only 24.

Home Sweet Home

Finally, 2007 drew to a close with the purchasing of our first home. Our search for the "perfect" home can hardly be called exhaustive – it lasted about three weeks – but I second her Dad's opinion that the house is "us." A library, a backyard with deck, guest rooms, a basement, and appliances included – what more do I need? $200,000 you say? Oh, right…

So, to recap: wedding, graduation, death of a loved one, averted death of another loved one, first full-time job, first full-time house.

I'm pretty tired.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 19:13:03 GMT

The countdown begins...

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Sat, 23 Dec 2006 23:17:30 GMT

The two songs I've picked for this little experiment can be downloaded here:

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=T2FASOO5

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=G4V4XVAK

Now, both of these are in pretty rough shape (they don't even have bridges!), but I think they have potential, so let's see what we can do! I'm not sure how long the links will stay active, so let me know if you can't get them and I'll re-post.

I'll say nothing of my lyrical preferences other than that I tend to avoid parody and sappy ballads, so have at it.

Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy the holidays to the fullest.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Thu, 21 Dec 2006 18:36:34 GMT

Christmas!

Let's party like it's 1984

I survived end -of-term assignments. Glad to see you're all still here.

I thought it was going to be very strange spending my first xmas sans parents, but it has actually been one of the greatest holidays to date! Terri and I have been occupying our time with cookie making, carol singing and incessant Christmas movie watching, so all is well in Batesville (well, barring a few medical emergencies of which I'll spare you the details).

For the record, my favourite Christmas carols are as follows:

1. We Three Kings of Orient Are

2. Good King Wenceslas

3. I Saw Three Ships

Best Christmas movie ever = A Christmas Story

Television Special = A Muppet Family Christmas

Any favourites you care to share?

In 1986, my parents gave me a book called "Once Upon a Christmas" by David Oxtoby which is, by far, the greatest Christmas book ever created. A funny/touching/sad story of Santa's quest to bring joy to the world despite Rudolf going AWOL and a host of other trials and tribulations, it has some excellent art -- some of which features unacknolwedged celebrity cameos like Paul McCartney and Jimi Hendrix -- and holds up well even after all these years. If you can find it, I highly recommend that you buy it. Magic!

Since I can't reprint the story here, I thought I'd share another of my favourite holiday tales. This one is called "Nicolas Was..." and it's by Neil Gaiman. Gaiman is quite a fantastic writer, although most of you (i.e. Pat Imbeau) would likely recognize his name from The Sandamn series of graphic novels. His writing deals mostly with myths and fantasy, but he's often hilariously funny and always engaging, so check him out. Both American Gods and the collection from which this story is taken -- Smoke and Mirrors -- are good starting points.

Anyway, "Nicholas Was.." is a story right up my alley -- a sort of semi-horrifc tale of Santas tortured existence. Gaiman wrote this story so that he could have something interesting to include in his annual Christmas card. His friends must think he's nuts.

Nicholas was…

older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die.

The dwarfish natives of the Artic caverns did not speak is language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.

Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves’ invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozen into time.

He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harsher.

Ho.

How about a contest?

I've been toying around with this idea for a little while, and since Angelo said it sounded fun, I think I'll go ahead with it.

As some of you might know, I like to write music. There's nothing better than sitting down after a boring lecture, picking up the guitar, tuning out Terri's chattering (ha!), and plucking some strings!

Anyway, I haven't had much luck with lyrics in the past, so I thought I'd give some of you budding lyricists a chance to showcase your talents. To that end, this is what I propose we do:

1. I will post a few rough songs (a verse or two+chorus)

2. You will listen to these songs

3. You will pick one (or two) and compose some lyrics

4. I will pick the one (or two) that i like best

5. I will record myself singing the lyrics and post the completed song

6. We will all have a good laugh

I'll put the songs up sometime before the weekend if there's interest, and since the holidays are upon us, I'm guessing people have some time to spare/waste. Let's get it on.

A Christmas Song:

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Tue, 14 Nov 2006 18:06:48 GMT

I know it's a little early, but this may be the coolest thing that has ever happened:

From the Asthamatic Kitty website:

Forget the 50 States. Christmas is a bigger concept. As some of you may or may not know, for the past few years, as a holiday tradition, Sufjan has embarked on an extraordinary experiment to record an annual Christmas EP. It started in 2001, the year of Epiphanies, and continued onward (skipping only 2004), culminating into an odd and idiosyncratic catalog of music that has only existed in the Asthmatic Kitty archives (and on a number of file sharing sites). The recording process took place every December, for one week, usually at home, provoking collaborations with friends, roommates, and musical peers. Armed with a Reader’s Digest Christmas Songbook (and a mug of hot cider) Sufjan & friends concocted a musical fruit cake year after year, implementing every musical instrument they could find lying around the house: banjo, oboe, Casiotone, wood flute, a buzzy guitar, hand claps, sleigh bells, Hammond organ, and some tree tinsel. Did we mention sleigh bells? It doesn’t take much to capture that Creepy Christmas Feeling, does it? Recorded, mixed and mastered at home, the EPs themselves were often assembled in the kitchen, stapled together, and sent out with stickers and stamps to loved ones across the globe, year after year, with little Christmas cards that read: “Merry Christmas. You are something special. Santa Claus loves you. And so do I.” And then, one day, some of these songs showed up online. Curious little web zines and fan sites posted mp3s. People started asking questions. What is this I hear about Sufjan doing the boogey to the elf dance? Where can I get these Christmas goodies? Well, not wanting to be the Grinch, we decided to deck the halls, if you know what I mean.

But let’s back up a bit. Having an inherent aversion to the standard Christmas carol, Sufjan indulged in the project initially as an exercise to make himself “appreciate” Christmas more. It was a tough childhood, but you can’t be a Christmas Curmudgeon forever, can you? What he discovered, for better or for worse, was a fascinating canon of Yuletide hits, some emotionally rewarding, some painfully cliché. Jingle Bells. Silent Night. We Three Kings. The whole nine yards. The musical undertaking led Sufjan (and his coterie of friends) to reckon with a holiday that celebrates, above all things, the spirit of excess--Santa Claus, popcorn balls, mistletoe, and Kmart blue light specials, to name a few. What does it all add up to? A headache, a hangover, and sentimental ruminations of Baby Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and all those animals in the manger. Is there any other holiday that so seamlessly mixes the sacred and the profane?

Recording traditional favorites alongside unique originals, Sufjan has, over the course of five years, constructed an odd, impressive, and compelling collection of Christmas hits (and some misses) that will either warm your heart or make you throw up eggnog all over the bath mat (depending on your constitution). Asthmatic Kitty Records is preparing to release ALL of the material (newly mixed and mastered) in one generous box set, due in stores November 21, just in time for the holiday shopping craze. The box set (titled “Songs for Christmas”) will be chock full of surprises, including the following novelty items (if you don’t mind us ruining the surprise):

• Five individually packaged CD EPs!
• Five Christmas stickers!
• Extensive liner notes and short stories by Sufjan Stevens!
• An original Christmas essay by Rick Moody!
• An animated music video and comic strip by Tom Eaton!
• A Christmas Songbook with lyric sheets and chord charts--so you can sing along too!
• An original Christmas Family Portrait painting of Santa Sufjan (with wife and kids!) by Jacques Bredy!

Wow! It’s the stocking stuffer of the century! Which isn’t saying much, considering the century is still so young!

You can stream the album here and also get a good look at the packaging.

I downloaded a copy of his version of "I Saw Three Ships" a couple of years ago (my introduction to Sufjan, actually) and it's pretty great. If you'd like a copy, just message me. The best part of the song is after the playing has stopped, Sufjan confesses to his friend that he "played terrible."

In other news, I want to die.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Tue, 31 Oct 2006 03:35:49 GMT

I sure do love Halloween. Love it, love it, love it.

In honour of my favourite ghostly holiday, I present to you: Evan's Spooktacular Xanga Post!

Boo! Arooooooo! Howl! Snort! Mewl! Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, braaaaaiiinnnsss!

Ahem.

Angelo's post about Stanley Kubrick sent me searching for my copy of Bare Bones: Coversations on terror with Stephen King -- a collection of interviews with King compiled by Tim Underwood and Chuck Miller. I remembered King lambasting Kubrick's version of The Shining, and I thought you all might enjoying hearing what he had to say on what has become, much to his dismay, on of the most popular horror films of all time.

“Stanley Kubrick’s version of The Shining is a lot tougher for me to evaluate, because I’m still profoundly ambivalent about the whole thing. I’d admired Kubrick for a long time and had great expectations for the project, but I was deeply disappointed in the end result. Parts of the film are chilling, charged with relentlessly claustrophobic terror, but others fall flat.

I think there are two basic problems with the movie. First, Kubrick is a very cold man – pragmatic and rational – and he had great difficulty conceiving, even academically, of a supernatural world. He used to make transatlantic calls to me from England at odd hours of the day and night, and I remember once he rang up ad asked, ‘Do you believe in God?” I thought a minute and said, ‘Yeah, I think so.’ Kubrick replied, ‘No, I don’t think there is a God,’ and hung up. Not that religion has to be involved in horror, but a visceral skeptic such as Kubrick just couldn’t grasp the sheer inhuman evil of the Overlook Hotel. So he looked, instead, for evil in the characters and made the film into a domestic tragedy with only vaguely supernatural overtones. That was the basic flaw: because he couldn’t believe, he couldn’t make the film believable to others.

The second problem was in the characterization and casting. Jack Nicholson, though a fine actor, was all wrong for the part. His last big role had been in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and between that and his manic grin, the audience automatically identified his as a loony from the first scene. But the book is about Jack Torrence’s gradual descent into madness through malign influence of the Overlook, which is like a huge storage battery with an evil powerful enough to corrupt all those who come in contact with it. If the guys is nuts to begin with, then the entire tragedy of his downfall is wasted. For that reason, the film has no center and no heart, despite its brilliantly unnerving camera angles and dazzling use of the Steadicam. What’s basically wrong with Kubrick’s version of The Shining is that it’s a film by a man who thinks too much and feels too little, and that’s why, for all its virtuoso effects, it never gets you by the throat and hangs on the way real horror should.”

I can't say I disagree with him, as I've always found the film to be substancially less unsettling than the novel. That isn't to say that I don't enjoy the film, only that I feel it was a bit of a misfire. I think he's dead-on with regard to Nicholson (as much as I love him), as the novel really was about Jack Torrence's personal transformation from troubled, though ultimately loving father/husband to the personification of the evil present in the Overlook. Nicholson always struck me as being a bit crazy (and he still does) to begin with, so The Shining has always seemed to me to be more about Nicholson the actor, than Jack Torrence, the character.

Anyway, it does have some terribly frightening moments:

This is a link to the "100 Scariest Movie Scenes." I agreed with some, and laughed at a few others (that scene with Scout in To Kill A Mockingbird? Come on...), but I think it's worth posting anyway. What do YOU think?

http://www.retrocrush.com/scary/

"The New Manson Family," says Angelo.

I agree.

Have a spooktacular Halloween!

I'll be in class. *cough*

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Sat, 28 Oct 2006 03:23:58 GMT

I came across this while surfing the giant wave that is the internet, and I thought a lot of you would get a kick out of it.

While the the Hemingway piece that was the impetus for this little exercise strikes me as the best of the lot, I also got a kick out the following:

I saw, darling, but do lie.
- Orson Scott Card

Longed for him. Got him. Shit.
- Margaret Atwood

Oh, Margaret...

Anyway, try it yourself! Here are a few of my own:

Bombs exploding: the sound of progress.

Love lost all meaning. The end.

Au revoir.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Tue, 24 Oct 2006 20:20:38 GMT

Bruce Cockburn rocked my world last night. It was fucking awesome.

He's probably the greatest guitarist I've ever seen, as he makes the most difficult chords and picking patterns seem effortless.

The first part of his set had more of a nostalgic flavour, with the second portion taking a decidedly political turn. Everything was excellent, though, with the only (minor) screw-up coming from his asexual, angel-voiced keyboardist/accordion player.

I found this interesting:

"Lovers in a Dangerous Time', which leads off the same album that features 'Rocket Launcher,' seems to be drawn from the same Central American experience; one readily supposes the stirring number is an ode to romantic passion among the revolutionaries Cockburn met. He says it actually was sparked by something much more ordinary.

"I was thinking about kids in a schoolyard, eighth-graders or ninth-graders who were bold enough to hold hands and feel the beginnings of passion for another person in the face of the no-future that they would be confronted with. I was thinking, 'How can they envision a life in the face of so many things that appear to threaten it?' [He maintains the revolutionaries-in-love interpretation works, though, and is pleased that some listeners have related the song to the AIDS crisis as well.]

- from "Bruce Cockburn: Interior Motive" by Mike Boehm, Los Angeles Times, 22 November 1994.

In other news, The Hip are coming to the Sudbury arena! Rejoice.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 06:44:47 GMT

Hi.

Remember me?

I used to post here before life came and did what it does best: excite, exasperate, thrill, disappoint, crush, elate, etc.

Good to see you all again.

Things have happened. I live here now:

With her:

It's been good...well, mostly. Our superintendent is a douche and our upstairs neighbours are pretty loud, but we'll survive.

People should stop by -- visitors are always welcome.

I still go to school, by the way. I'm really enjoying it.

That's all I have to say about that.

I've been playing and recording a lot of music lately. I'll spare you the uncomfortable experience of having to fain interest in my amateurish efforts by keeping this page free of mp3 files you might feel obligated to download. However, if you're intersted in how I ~~waste~~ spend a good portion of my free time, SHOUT ME A HOLLA'. I will send you my soul in digital format.

I was following links on Angelo's blog because, well, I'm a loser, and I came upon a site (subrosasounds) that had compiled what they claimed were youtube videos of the GREATEST LIVE TELEVISION PERFORMANCES OF ALL TIME. Now, while I thought that some of their choices were pretty great, it struck me that the problem with making such a list is that it is invaribaly filled not with the greatest live television performances of all-time, but by the greatest live television performances by bands that the person making the list thinks are the greatest. So, without any pretense of objectivity, I present to you some of the the greatest live television performances by artists that I love and adore.

1. The Tragically Hip -- Grace Too (as performed on SNL!)

Bet you didn't even know they'd played the show.

2. James Dean Bradfield -- Emigre

This song is from his new album "The Great Western," and he once described it (the song, not the album) as a being about a "willful repatriation of the soul." Pretentious? Maybe...but how can you not love that he could say something like that with a straight face. Nevermind the fact that his voice is heartbreakingly beautiful.

James Dean Bradfield - Emigre (Acoustic)

3. Dave Matthews -- The Stone

This was performed on the Charlie Rose Show, and it really shows just how competent a musician he is. Look at those fingers fly!

Dave Matthews - The Stone Live on Charlie Rose Show

4. Live -- Operation Sirit

Before lead singer Ed Kowalczyk fell in love with himself a-la Scott Stapp, Live rocked pretty fucking hard. Observe the antics of angst-filled teenagers:

Live - 1992-07-14 - #01 - Operation Spirit

I love Dave Matthews. I can't even begin to explain the depth of my admiration for the man and his abilities, but let me say that if he were to suddenly come over to my house for some reason, I would have to to struggle mightily against the urge to fellate him on the spot.

All joking aside, his music is a big part of my life, and if ever there was an artist that could claim to have a sort of supernatural inner knowledge of the passions and preoccupations of my young heart, it would be him.

This is the preface to what is going to be a shameless pimping of his band'snew album, which, as of yet, remains unredcorded, untitled, and largely unfocused. However, they have been road testing new material, and I'd like to share some with you.

This one is called "Break Free" and is clearly the best of the new breed A passionately energetic number that really showcases the versatility of the band, complete with a showcasing of newest DMB member Rashawn Ross on the trumpet. Forgive the quality of Dave's voice as he was sick at the time of this recording.

Dave Matthews Band - Break Free - 08/12/06 Florida

This one is called "The Idea of You," and while the lyrics have been in flux most of the tour, it seems like early favorite to appear as a single. (Apologies for the poor quality of the recording.)

Dave Matthews Band - New Song Debut - The Idea Of You

This last one, a solo effort from Dave, is called "Sister." Keeping in mind the fact that Dave's late sister Anne was murdered by her husband the song becomes all the more poignant and self-revealing. Very beautiful.

Dave Matthews - Sister

That's all for now.

Bye.

Postscript: I'm not proof-reading this. It's just too late, and I'm too tired.