Tuesday, September 30, 2008

on a rainy tuesday

sporadic thunderclaps and lightning bolts notwithstanding, it's absolute vancouver weather out there right now -- pouring rain, damp and chilly. not a huge fan, here -- especially not since i discovered that the hole in the bottom of my trusty right chuck has gotten big enough to push a quarter through. leaky shoes are a no-go. bah to this weather. (ironically, i bought those chucks around this time last year in vancouver -- because my chucks at that time had also sprouted holes that didn't do much to keep the west coast rainwater out)

as is the current canadian music news all over the interwebs this morning, caribou won the polaris prize. i wasn't at all emotionally invested in the polaris race, mostly because i can't fucking stand the meandering atmospheric twee-pop that makes up the majority of "popular" canadian indie music (okay, shad and black mountain are the exceptions on the nominee list), but snaith sounded like a gracious victor, which is what we canadians are known for. damn right.

an oldie but a goodie with which to refresh your album collection: pitchfork counts down the top 100 albums of the 90's. i feel like this list has been done before umpteen times, but that's because it has, and depending on the publication slant it's usually either radiohead or nirvana who take top honours. ah, popular music culture, ever so predictable.

dave grohl saved from onstage attack! (by the way, did you hear that noel gallagher broke three ribs after that dude jumped him onstage at virgin fest? like whoa) at least he seemed to take it with grace. many hearts for the grohl.

the a.v. club tackles the unnecessary anomaly that is the katy perry doll. musicians as barbies always sort of creep me out. much like zooey deschan- err, katy perry.

no led zep reunion, says robert plant. i think i'd take that guy's word for it.

and now for the three best vids on the internets: diesel's sfw porn, rebel l, and the iphone a la snl. enjoy, and i promise i won't take a bazillion years to post again. things have been hectic, and busy, and hectically busy, but altogether lovely and awesome.

p.s. i got to go to the united states last weekend and blow a shitload of money at victoria's secret and hot topic, with a lesser amount spent on random american goods at target (none of them being stores we also have in canada). in a materialistic-consumer sense, my life was temporarily complete.

[ music | peter murphy, "cuts you up" ]

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

huck finn

change of season. cause and effect. et cetera, et cetera. (things are once again resolved, by the way, and once they get resolved i always feel the urge to delete the more candid blog entries that pop up in my throes of angst and dramaz, but then i always keep them up regardless as a reminder to myself) anyway...

today is the boyfriend's birthday! see following photo (copyright to one j. benning, who throws good loft parties) for rugged foxiness factor to the power of infinity:



...hey, any of you really longtime readers remember way back in the day when i would pout and mope and angst about the apparent impossibility of me ever attaining a hot rockstar boyfriend of my very own? karma's paying me back in fucking spades now. :D so awesome, especially that there's way more to him than just being a hot rockstar. hurrah! (and happy birthday to you, baby!)

gavin degraw reacts to being this generation's waylon jennings. like, holy shit, guy. (plus, after seeing the after-photos of the plane travis and dj am were in, i'm even less convinced i ever want to step on an airplane again)

gasoline magazine speaks with gallows, a band i still greatly enjoy and strongly think many of you should listen to, if you're into hardcore brit-punk. and i like them even more now after that article and their quotes about how they don't dig the sexism in the hardcore scene. gender tolerance in the music biz = always appreciated.

crystal castles "redeem" themselves! and with that, the world is right again.

by the way, one of my new favourite things is the a.v. club taste tests. anything that talks about microwaves and barfing in the expanse of one article is alright by me.

anyway, i'm going to niagara falls this weekend with the bestfriend. shall make for a nice time spent out of town, especially given that her brother is picking up and we don't have to risk getting stabbed on the bus...yeeesh.

though anybody who is in town this weekend, i highly recommend spending some quality time at the clothing show. kinda bummed i won't get to go myself, but what the hell, i'll be excitedly running amok through u.s.-only chain stores by then. (amanda: "so what do you wanna do this weekend?" me: "i wanna go to america!!" :D) now that i have the income to start rebuilding my wardrobe - i've got external sources of revenue rolling in by post daily this week - i'm intending on doing it as thoroughly as possible. thus!

okay, it's tuesday, which means tonight will be made up of watching hockey and drinking heavily. later.

p.s. in complete deference to my adolescent past, i should note that david usher's new album is out today. haven't heard anything but the single, probably won't hear anything else, but i'm sure it's decent. kevin's still in the band, after all.

[ music | the sisters of mercy, "marian" ]

Friday, September 19, 2008

there there

i wish i could understand why i do this to myself, time and time again. i feel like a drug addict sometimes -- addicted to the highs and the lows and the risks, always searching out pleasure and pain in equal measures; excited by both the euphoric rush and the inevitable crash; ecstatic when everything is going smoothly and then heartbroken when i'm made to realize, once again, how fleeting it all is.

and my lessons are never done. (did my singing please you? / no, the words you sang were wrong)

the words i sing seem to always be wrong, somehow.

[ music | depeche mode, "enjoy the silence" ]

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

almost predictable

i'd like to think i'm not a weirdo for loving fall as much as i do. it's probably my favourite season - early autumn is the best time of year, in my opinion - and not just because i was born in october (rocktober?). i've heard other people talk about how fall is the universal "change of season" time, mostly due to the whole back-to-school tradition and how the season typically brings about transition and change. obviously, i'm no different or else i wouldn't be talking about this; to me, fall is my usual time of self-evaluation and thoughtfulness, as well as taking good hard looks at my life to see what needs to be changed or improved before the goddamn winter sets in. (or at least for me, november -- my common sad month)

anyway, that's sort of an apology and/or half-assed explanation for all the vague, pensive entries as of late. this weather and this time of year tend to do that to me; if you're an old reader of my blogs, then you probably already know it's par for the course. really, everything in my life right now is actually completely and totally awesome, no word of a lie. (much good stuff on the way!: i have a cheque apparently in the mail for some freelance work i did back in the summer, there's a new round of chart payouts coming "soon", and i just spoke to my former landlady in vancouver about getting my damage deposit back -- and she mailed the cheque right away. awesome!)

omfg cure. as excited as i am for the new album, that info leaves me wondering just what the hell happened to the whole 2-cd concept thingy that cancelled the tour last year. also, their new single ("the only one") is predictably meh, so i'm not too sure about this...oh, fat bob, i can't help but love you anyway. "i fucking despair." hell yes.

yet another nirvana book claims courtney ruined kurt. on a related and far more positive note, ontd! shows us that frances bean is pretty damn articulate. not to mention incredibly self-aware. good on her.

also, can't resist linking for the comment lulz: spartaaaaaaaaa!

bands nobody gives a shit about, via the a.v. club. spot fucking on for so many of those -- don't worry, although the title of the entry would have you believe that it's negative, it's actually more about the underappreciated rather than the intentionally ignored. hey, big drill car!

london arts festival = hipster fest `08. good god, i can't even imagine what might happen when they clash with the party-pub culture of the uwo faction. (if anything, it will likely spawn more gems for the awesome overheard at western)

inspired by my readings of the goth bible, i bought a copy of this off ebay the other day. that's some damn good vampire smut right there. (another bit of fascination from the goth book: it made a reference to an old 90's goth band that i think a certain brother of mine may or may not have been in for a time. i can't remember the bootleg we watched in chicago last year all too well, but it seems familiar enough...)

t-minus 42 days to the toronto sisters of mercy concert. i swear, i'm gonna be that girl who just stands in front row and cries the whole entire time. yes, that girl. watch me, motherfuckers.

[ music | kill hannah, "ten more minutes with you" ]

in this silence

two years to the day, three days past. like i said -- i don't even remember those landmark dates now. i have no reason to let them continue to define me.

i still listen, and i'm very sure you still read, but the memories of your power games and boldfaced lies don't own me anymore.

[ music | depeche mode, "stripped" ]

Sunday, September 14, 2008

heinrich maneuver

oh by the way, have i mentioned yet how fucking excited i am for this sisters of mercy show next month?? it's actually getting pretty stupid by now. i got my ticket on saturday - $40 and the show may or may not be terrible but i do. not. fucking. care. - but now i'm also scheming to go to their detroit show in november as well. might as well get my fix in while i can, yes? (though unfortunately, i don't know how much of an outfit i can pass off as a costume at the november show...at least i'll sort of look apropos in toronto, with the gig being that close to halloween and all)

i mean, seriously, that music was mostly what got me through my eight months of solitude on the west coast. (if i remember correctly, i think i bought a slight case of overbombing the day before i moved to vancouver, and then first and last and always a few days afterwards) it more or less became my soundtrack to rainy gray days spent wandering through north van and early morning seabus treks to work in the downtown mainland. (nothing says "goth" more than listening to "some kind of stranger" while reading a poppy z. brite novel. and wearing a long black leather coat with huge black sunglasses. i just bought a secondhand copy of the goth bible this past weekend, and it makes me chortle to see where exactly i fit in there)

i do believe that "some kind of stranger" is probably their very best song, though. i'm listening to it right now and it makes me want to start sobbing like a fucking broken-hearted schoolgirl. "an untouchable epic that, clocking in at over seven minutes, is the best of its kind from any time -- period." indeed.

...actually, it's funny how listening to it (and the entire album) right now brings back memories of this time last year, or rather last year a month from now, when i first landed in the new world of vancouver, british columbia. it blows my mind right now to realize that it's almost been a whole year now -- seriously, almost one year ago, i was bearing down on my last few weeks in this province, donating the last of my belongings and finishing my final days at my longtime job. (and ahaha at what gig i mentioned in that entry -- i mean, how did i not know? god, life is a funny thing.)

let me tell you what i remember about those eight months in vancouver (a list i'll probably add to as i think more on it, or at least figure out how to put the ineffible into words):

- not so many rainy days as rainy nights spent running errands on west broadway, streetlamps shining on puddles;
- weekends of long walks under a chilly blue sky, ipod in hand and headphones screwed into ears, taking in the scenery and rare sunshine just for the hell of it;
- vegetarian combo #1 at sushi sushi at least once a week (usually staying in rather than taking out; the staff liked my kitty-eared hoodie);
- cold nights of indecision, sitting at 24-hour coffee shops and madly aimlessly typing away on my laptop;
- the equally overcast and brightly sunny days out walking in north van;
- late fall days spent discovering the best parts of commercial drive;
- saturday treks to fun areas like main street and west 4th;
- sitting on the docks at granville island, writing postcards and smiling to myself;
- late-night movie marathons with melissa, and the occasional girl road trip to washington state;
- long late-night bus rides through a deserted downtown to get home after nights spent partying at leora's or at the cobalt or drinking with henry and coworkers, taking the long way home just because i felt like it;
- the same bus ride to and from work early in the mornings and late in the afternoons, crossing through kitsilano and by the waterfront and curving around the bridges to downtown;
- my first real experiences having weekends free from work, choosing to spend them on endless on-foot explorations of my new city;
- always, always waiting to feel the buzz of my cell phone's vibration, informing me that i had a new text message.

i'd be lying if i said the memories of those days didn't make my heart ache a little bit. and i knew it would be this way, definitely -- i knew that no matter how miserable i was in those moments, i would look back on those days in the future and sort of miss them, in all their romantic loneliness and rose-coloured dreaming. those days were my most fervent attempt at understanding myself when taken out of my environment; i had to get away from everything i was to try and see who i really am.

literally, i couldn't hear what my heart was trying to tell me unless i was completely alone in the world, as i felt i was in that city.

but i don't regret coming back when i did, or even the fact that i came back at all. reality never completely lives up to fantasy; everyone knows that. yet there have been more than a few moments since the first of may where i've had to step outside my window of consciousness and poke myself with a knowing grin, whispering, this is what you were wanting all along. moments like this.

....i think this may be the first year since 2005 when i haven't mentally marked the dates of heartbreak and change and new beginnings. when i haven't had to listen to the old ghosts.

and that's fine.

[ music | the sisters of mercy, "nine while nine" ]

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

and i feel fine

hey. you wanna know how to make my day/week/life 110% better? announce sisters of mercy canadian concert dates. sure, it may all be tentative and pending on official announcement, but if it's true, then my beloved sisters (or at least, from the original lineup, von eldritch and the doktor) are coming to toronto in october. holy motherfucking christ! i seriously just about lost my shit yesterday, and you know i'm not lying.

(extra mega bonus: the possible date is in close enough proximity to halloween that i'll totally be able to get away with wearing my fetish military coat and pvc kilt mini. yessss!)

anyway, i'm an easy creature to please. but the majority of you know that.

so, as i'm sure any music fan logged into the interwebs has heard by now, there was a little incident involving oasis at sunday's virgin fest show. the star has more of a follow-up, while nme.com is having a field day. i personally like the comment someone posted in a thread somewhere that roughly said: "i think this is the most publicity oasis has gotten in north america since 'wonderwall'." oh snap.

idolator recaps the new ipod in a rainbow of colours. probably do not taste magically delicious.

more whimsical things brought to us by bloggers via music sites (and this one probably is delicious): japanese blogger replicates album artwork with food. that andrew w.k. one is excellent.

another subject i've started to ponder lately: my annual body mod. every year since i turned nineteen, i've gotten either a new tattoo or a new piercing, usually with some sort of significance to my life. (hence why all of my tattoos are band-related.) haven't come up with anything definitive for this year yet, though areas under consideration include:

- some kind of shoulder piece, or at least the beginnings of one
- something on my right shoulder blade
- my tramp stamp (finally)

and design ideas include:

- song lyrics ("never let me down again" on my left inner forearm; "empire down" or "sell-out love" on the back of my neck)
- le petit prince, or at least just the final landscape
- flowers (cherry blossoms or a stargazer lily) `cause i'm a damn girl
- the kill hannah butterfly on my right shoulder blade (to match the sniper heart on my right upper arm)
- a trail of autumn leaves on my shoulder/neck
- latin quotes ("ad astra per aspera"; "amor vincia omnia"; "semper fidelis") `cause i heart latin)

but i guess we'll have to see what my budget permits, et cetera. body mods make me happy.

...then again, there is still the likelihood that at this time tomorrow, the world as we know it will be no more. in that case, it's been good times writing for you guys -- and hey, at least we're all going out together, right? peace out and see ya on the other side.

[ music | marilyn manson, "mobscene" ]

Thursday, September 4, 2008

off the hook

so, hello! and happy september to everybody. by the way, enjoy these last few days on this planet as much as you can -- the large hadran collider gets turned on next week, and then we're all fucked. (though i do rather enjoy cracked.com's take on it)

but if the world doesn't end, then cool, i'm turning 25 years old in a month and five days. huzzah!

presenting the official trailer for when women rule the world, the british reality tv series that our dear chrissy appears in! and i seriously pity any man who tries to stand up to her. she'll have your balls in her hand, dude.

on the tenuous topic of feminism: women still measured as breeders. gotta love that glass ceiling. i am far from being just a uterus, thank you.

dragonball movie trailer screencaps (courtesy everyone's favourite oh no they didn't!) make me feel queasy. i just...can't believe this movie is actually happening. moreover, i can't believe that i'll probably go see it. live-action anime is pretty much always guaranteed fail, but it can be the trainwreckish kind where you can't look away. (though i have to admit that i agree with the third post: no vegeta, no deal.)

raine maida gets positive u.s. review. that headline just makes it sound so sad and lonely.

it's official: nothing is safe to eat ever. not even vegetarians are getting off the hook, now. and this is speaking from experience -- on tuesday i actually bought and ate the mushrooms that got recalled the very next day. you can guess how pleased i was. (but eh, i'm not a baby, a geezer, pregnant or with a compromised immune system, so i figure i'll survive. maybe have a stomachache for a while, but whatever, i'm sure my body's digested worse bacteria.)

finally, after years and years of pre-emptive fanfare, false starts and waiting, there is now a new chartattack website, and it's like a shiny pretty new toy. i'm more pleased because it finally means that the archive of back articles is online again, which means that i actually have a portfolio again. hallelujah!

(oh, and to any rogers wireless customers who get their free urmagazine, i think i have an article on panic at the disco in the newest issue. dunno. all i know is that the paycheque's in the mail...:D)

[ music | radiohead, "house of cards" ]

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

montreal calling

to quote my facebook folder of the same name (and content), this is what happens when college street's favourite rock n' roll dirtbag couple takes on quebec's capital city for the labor day long weekend:


the view from our friend jonathan's apartment balcony, where we were crashing for the weekend (his apartment, not his balcony). gorgeous weather + lovely part of town = absolutely glorious.


close-up of the cross on the distant top of parc du mont-royal. not glowing purple, so no dead pope!


after declaring that he was planning on eating poutine "at every meal" while we were here (i'm sure his arteries are happy that he didn't follow through with that claim), the boy and i took in probably the best poutine in the city, at patati-patata. (mine is actually "patatine", which is basically poutine topped with sliced veggies)


whoever came up with the idea of topping french fries with cheese curds and gravy is a friggin' genius.


classy fashion mannequins modelling the latest in...ugly work uniforms. dig that flourescent vest!


the legendary schwartz's deli with its equally legendary lineup -- running in both directions and continuing all weekend long. thank god i have no use for delis.


a self-aware massachusetts family had this appropriate "masshole" sticker on their back window. clever.


ma copain/chum/ami/chouchou/ummm whatever, there really isn't one proper french word for boyfriend. maybe it's all in the vocal inflection?


shed cafe, sunday afternoon on a sunny front patio, sangria round one.


we liked it so much we went for sangria round two. red > white.


d'awww. (even if this is sort of the atypical rockstar/fan photo pose. the less typical photos were the ones we had taken together post-sangria in a mall photo booth, in which the majority of the strip is nsfw. there were boobs involved.)


trendy myspace shot, courtesy of the mirrored ceiling in shed cafe's washroom.


i don't love religion, but i do love big old churches -- especially when said big old churches are smack dab in the middle of an urban metropolis.


case in point. so fucking cool!


sangria round three: zyng noodlery on le plateau at dinner. mmm, lychee.


random candid snapshot. why so serious, baby? (i actually think he was just waiting for jonathan or something.)


someone tagged this van with an elaborate, heartstring-tugging story of lost love and betrayal. actually, no, it was terribly misspelled and lame. ah well, points for effort.


one of the last things i can remember about sunday night: attempting to play a game of pool at korova while stumbling through a haze of many whisky shots. my liver and stomach lining still hurt.

in between all of these photos, there was a multitude of goodness and good times -- cigarettes smoked and beers drank on the balcony while very loud melodic metal pounded around us; running amok and buzzed on sangria through the downtown core; quality hangout time with old friends; visiting all my usual montreal favourites, like archambault and cafe l'etranger and pretty much the entirety of rue saint-denis and rue sainte-catherine; seeing all the sights and walking all the streets that make that city something incredibly special to me.

and although i've made an annual pilgrimage to montreal for the last few years, i guess the most significant difference this time was that i wasn't alone, spending the majority of my time hand in hand with a super hot guy. thus, there was also talking, and bonding, and groping, and flagrant pda, and being contentedly aware that we get to know each other more and more all the time. and that all makes me smile.

yeah, i know. who'd have thought.

[ music | depeche mode, "home" ]