XXX MMMy AAA SSS

(Season's) Greetings.

It is officially crunch time... some ten thousand minutes before Xmas.

It's been a couple of peculiar weeks. For some reason I can't seem to accumulate enough sleep. Not that I can't sleep. Rather the opposite... I've been sleeping 8-10 hours a night and napping in between, but I can't seem to become revitalized by it.

Perhaps it's just to escape the stresses of the season. When you work both in retail and at a University you tend to have your few small stresses... but then you also are bombarded with several others' larger stresses, either real or imaginary.

One aspect that's been ongoing is the sluggish and unpredictable shopping patterns over the last month. November was deceptively busy (compared to previous years) but there hasn't been the hoped-for consistent increase that leads up to Xmas. I was beginning to assume it had mostly to do with a strong Canadian dollar and an increase in cross-border/online shopping... but today the first 10 people were fear-eyed older ladies with lists written in English that they still could not read. Therefore we have the XMAS OF BAD PLANNERS.

The thing about the bad planner is that they don't understand the error of their ways. The bad planner operates under the delusion that in the 21st Century every store that specializes in something (i.e. music) must contain every item available (or even out of circulation) that falls under the general descripition... even if said store is only 15 feet by 15 feet in size. To make matters worse they usually come to me at the recommendation of a larger store who also didn't have their hopelessly obscure item in stock... thus, because we were recommended, they fully believe that we must have it... making their disappointment all that more poignant, or pungent, or something.

Another added stress is that I've had problems helping even the good planners due to not one but two orders over the last week that ended up not shipping when they were supposed to. I don't mind dealing with incompetence from the customers... they give me money... but incompetence from the suppliers... who I give money to (sometimes)... well that gives me bad breath.

A retail unrelated stress came at the end of a great stress-relieving event:



Here are some pictures from the event.


The Squaredance Kid


ImageisEverything


Notorious D. O'Rea


Vehicle Lasso


and the mighty Piper Perabo

The mishap (stress inducing) came near the end of the evening after I took a picture of another member of the audience who spent much of his time lounging on the clothes dryer in the washroom:


Tito

Obviously offended by the invasion of his personal space he slapped the camera out of my hands and it fell to the floor with the lens extended. Or I might've just dropped it 'cos I was drunk. In any case the lens was tipped up at an off angle and wouldn't retract. I gently popped back in line and it went back in when I turned the power off... then came back out when I turned the power on... whew!

However the next day at breakfast I had hoped to get some day-after pictures from our assembled crew only to discover the lens on longer wished to come out. I supposed if I had been dropped on my head from a height I'd feel the same.

In any case there are three more stress/shopping days to contend with and this is my last evening at the lab until January 7th.

I will try to keep you apprised of my comings... or at least my goings... over the holidays. With or without photographic assistance.

An Open Letter to Lee Horsely

Hey.

Don't think we aren't aware of what you were trying to pull, man.

First up... the whole Tom Selleck thing. Sure you had the muscles and swagger to make the young women swoon... just like Tom. And sure you had the rug-like chest hair and porn star mustache to bring in the gay crowd... just like Tom. But then you had to try to one-up him.

You had to be a private eye... just like Tom, er Magnum... but it wasn't enough to know rich people, you had to be rich people. Texas millionaire Matt Houston... you thought you were Magnum, Higgins and Robin Masters all-in-one, huh? You had to fly around in your helicopter and, first season anyway, solve crimes brought to you by your slightly backwards relatives from "back home." You had to bring along your slightly backwards ranch hands Bo and Lamar, for no other reason than to secure the soon-to-be Red State viewers and keep Jeff Foxworthy glued to the set taking notes while he ate Zoodles straight from the can.

Aaaaand you had to bring along Pamela Hensley so that people who didn't buy into any of the above (but still harbored a Buck Rogers-inspired lust for Princess Ardala... or Charlie's Angels big hair... or both) still felt compelled to watch.

You thought we wouldn't ask questions like, "How does a multi-millionaire oil man get away with taking 70 hours a week tracking down his great-aunt's embezzled insurance money?" If you had that much money why didn't you hire someone to do it? Someone smarter.

Oh, and don't think we didn't spot the whole "Matt is short for Matlock" thing to bring in the blue hairs... and when that wasn't so much of a sure thing you actually get Buddy Ebsen as a guest star? For shame.

Couldn't you track down a black guy in a wheel chair or an Asian with a hearing aid?

But now Tom Selleck is on Las Vegas and your website is under construction. So...

Good luck to you Lee Horsely (formerly Matt "Matlock" Houston, PI)

Food for thought

Pleased to reintroduce myself

This is a pretty enough image, but in fact it came as an afterthought while I was trying to get a shot of the *hundreds* of crows who trek from Odell Park and surroundings areas into the tiny patch of woods behind the Student Union Building on campus. The sound they make once they're settled in is pretty bone chilling.

Its been awhile since I added anything here. Combination of busyness, forgetfulness, and general seasonal lassitude.

We have several conflicting seasons this October and November.


There's autumn.


Winter.

And not pictured is the Spring/Summer we had last Friday (November 16th) where it rained in torrents and the temperature went up to 17 degrees celcius.

Apart from that... what's been going on?

Well the weather turn toward the cold seems to have spawned a kind of hibernation impulse.

I've been listening to a bunch of the year's music to start compiling year end lists for myself, for Exclaim! and for the Surgery Radio website. The Exclaim! one is done... though as with previous years as soon as I send in my top tens I hear something that bumps my other choices down a few notches. I'll start posting little tastes of the top 50, though not the actual order... such as:


Air- Pocket Symphony (v2)

Not what you expected? HaHaHaHA!!!

I've also been watching movies... though mostly from my own collection, and mostly only as sleep aids. As I may have mentioned before I've found that a sure lullaby for me is the director commentary on any DVD at just... the right... volume. One second Michael Mann is explaining how Jamie Foxx rode around L.A. with a number of cab drivers in preparation for.... ZZZZZzzzz. The only downside is that when I rent movies and actually want to listen to the commentary tracks it still has a tendency to knock me out.

One such instance was with one movie I did rent recently... Canadian Classic:


Goin' Down the Road

For those of you unfamiliar... this is a 1970 movie by Don Shebib that tells the tale of two Maritimers escaping the dead end life on the East Coast and heading to... Toronto!!! The bulk of the film focuses on their quick and modest rise to solvency (loading and unloading trucks with bottles) and their eventual quasi-dramatic fall. It's a low-low-low budget slice of life film that meanders more than narrates, but in the end is immensely likeable. Of the two leads, Paul McGrath and Doug Bradley, only one was actually from the Atlantic provinces (McGrath)... and he was the one with acting experience!! In doing the quick research it turns out that McGrath is still acting... even had a part in John Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars. A small one, but still.

Perhaps the biggest revelation was that Jayne Eastwood... one of Canada's enduring female actresses... age 23 when she appeared in this movie... was kind of a hottie!!


Jayne now.


Jayne then.

There were two commentary tracks for the movie. One by the director, Don Shebib... who was refreshingly a bit of a windbag; not the modest "aw shucksy" Canadian we usually expect. Unfortunately he is also pretty numbskulled... making pronouncements such as, "images aren't really important in movie making... it's really all about time and how time passes." Call me nuts... but they do call them moving pictures, don't they? Second commentary is by "Toronto Star Critic..."

Geoff Pevere (believe it or not this is the actual press photo he seems to have chosen to represent himself on the internet).

I've always found it strange, given our affinity as Canadians for the arts, that we've never seemed able to produce a film critic (esp. on television) that wasn't at least 75% full of shit.

i.e.

Richard Crouse.


Mose Persico.

I could go on... but I feel a little upchuck in the back of my throat already. Though if you want to learn more about Mose... his... errrrr... uh, fanclub is here.

Oh, yeah... the Geoff Pevere commentary? Fell asleep about six words in. Thankfully.
---

Well it's getting to be closing time up here... so I'll leave you with a picture from my recent visit to my folks. The maddest, fattest black cat I know:

What's good.

Red Road.

First full length by British filmmaker Andrea Arnold who won an Oscar (and a bunch of other awards) for her 2005 Short Film Wasp.

The film is a nicely slow unraveller that follows a woman named Jackie who works in Glasgow as a surveillance camera monitor(er?)... that is, she monitors the video feeds of various public space video cameras for crimes and other emergencies. One day on the job a glimpse of a certain man sets her off on a single-minded pursuit that is hinted at but not fully explained until near the film's conclusion.

Arnold does some truly interesting things with p.o.v., both in the video surveillance and in the filmed reality... especially (not trying to be titillating, but...) the sex scenes that are shot atypically and provocatively. In colour and composition it reminds me of Morvern Callar; another UK film by Scottish filmmaker Lynne Ramsay. Above all it is a very quiet film... very sparse dialogue... very rich imagery... and the violent undercurrent is always uneasily there, but still shocks when it erupts.
----
I sporadically watch Vice TV... one of the few online video entertainment sites that actually provides something better than "real TV" and is watchable. This is part of an interview from one of their programs called Soft Focus that is hosted by Ian Svenonius, who used to front the groups Nation of Ulysses, The Make Up and Weird War. The interviewee is the enigmatic Will Oldham who records as Palace, Palace Bros. and most recently Bonnie 'Prince' Billy. This is part 3 of 4 recorded in front of an audience at the Guggenheim Museum.

umm...

Best question of the day.

Female student comes into the lab.

She: I don't know where I'm going... I have to watch a video for English class.

Me: I think you're in the right place, what movie is it?

She: Twelfth Night.

Me: Yeah... it's right back here (bringing her into the TV room and setting up the video). OK this is the VCR remote... and this is for the volume.

She: So I just sit here and watch it?

Me: ...yes.

How beauty is truth, but truth could be full of germs.

So I took a stretched out weekend and headed for Florenceville... taking off on Saturday night. Taking off on the Acadian Lines bus system is not exactly foolproof, though. It is proof of foolishness. The last two times I've taken the bus towards Carleton County I went to the terminal in Fredericton, getting there at least 15-20 minutes ahead of departure time (7:45pm). Both of those time I ended up waiting until around 8:30pm before the bus actually left. This time I thought I'd be pro-active while I bought my ticket and asked, "When is the bus really really leaving tonight?" The ticket agent said, "Well... we had to pull one of the buses off the line, but he should be here by 7:45pm, but he may be running late." Normally there are two buses that leave "around" the same time from Fredericton headed North... one is an Express that stops at Woodstock, Bristol, Edmundston and Riviere-du-Loup before transferring folks headed to Quebec City, Montreal Toronto, etc. The other non-express bus stops at all the little stations in NB to load/deliver people/parcels, etc. That is the one I usually get on... but tonight there would be only one bus, apparently.

When the bus pulled in (around 8:20pm, not 7:45pm) I had cleverly positioned myself near the loading area so I could be assured of getting a seat if there happened to be an overflow of passengers. The driver of the bus came out to unload/load luggage and I said, "so there's only one bus tonight, right?" He, of course, said, "No, no... this is the express, there'll be another one to take people... where are you going? Florenceville? Yeah, one is coming from Saint John, or, if not, they'll call you a cab instead?" There was an unspoken wouldn't that be lovely? tone to the cab part. So I went back in the terminal and sat, with a few others like me (or somewhat like me) and waited for the boarding announcement... that, of course, said the one and only bus would be loading all express and non-express passengers. A new driver was taking tickets, as the other's tour ended in F'ton, and I asked, "So this is the only bus, right?" He looked at me as though I had asked the most ridiculous question ever and said, "Of course, and there's plenty of room!" So I got on.

Luckily, once safely in Florenceville (since we got there much later than scheduled the Irving we stopped at was already closed and dark... the bus driver seemed especially concerned as I got out, asking, "Do you have anyone meeting you?" I told him I thought I'd be OK), the vibe was much more relaxed. On Sunday M. and I got up at a reasonable hour and she had prepared Crepes with ham, apple and other good stuff for filling. That and a good cup of coffee started things off quite nicely.

After noon we stopped at Burnt Normal, a coffee shop/artist gallery run by Lee Clark and his wife Yolanda. It's a cool little spot right on the river. We chatted with a few folks, including an older guy named Bill from Florida who was site-seeing from his camper and who presented me with a flier about exercising my brain through specialized physical movement. I said thanks.

When then headed up river a little ways to the Shiktehawk Stream Trail System for a walk in the woods.










It was successful.

For dinner we had Oktoberfest: German beer, sausages, carrots and I was given the task of making Spaetzle, a kind of German noodle dish I'd never had, or seen for that matter. It consisted of a batter concoction seasoned with fresh herbs and forced through a strainer to make the noodles. The kind M. had tried before in a restaurant was longish noodles, but I had no luck squeezing out more than little teardrop-like blobs into the boiling water. It looked a little like the picture linked above... but not quite. The boiled noodles were then fried with onion, mushroom and more herbs with a little chicken stock. All in all it came out successfully. I think.

The next day we meandered around Woodstock, doing a few errands. I was leaving on the afternoon bus that went through Florenceville around 2:30-3pm. That is if things went as planned. Which, as evidenced above, never really do with Acadian Lines. Rather than drive back to Florenceville I thought I may as well just leave from Woodstock... so I went to the Irving to buy a ticket. Except, of course, the bus no longer stopped there. Even though it had on Saturday night. Instead it now stopped at Murray's Esso up on the highway. OK. The bus was still about 3 hours from leaving, so we thought maybe we'd just go back to Florenceville after all. It a fit of paranoia we decided to call Acadian Lines and see if this change affected anything else... and lucky we did, since the bus didn't stop in Florenceville in the afternoon at all. Giving in to external pressures we went up to the highway and I bought a ticket at Murray's Esso. In fact I bought THE FIRST ticket at Murray's Esso, since this was THE FIRST run going through there. It took two ladies to sell me THE FIRST ticket, that I luckily had exact change for because they hadn't thought far enough ahead to have a till or change or stuff like that. Small details.

So... yes... I can faintly hear someone whispering, "why don't you get your license?" But perhaps another question is, "why doesn't another bus company set up shop in NB and kick their asses?"

So many questions.

Oh... the germ bit (see title). Not an hour after I got back home did my throat start getting tickly. This morning I woke up with a full blown sore esophagus and now I have the achey fever thing happening. And of course tonight is the first busy night of the year.

Makes you want to take a bus away from it all... almost.

Fun things to do.

(1) If you find a cell phone, like forgotten in a bar or restaurant, pick an overseas number you've researched and know to have a repeating recorded message, dial it, put the phone down and walk away.


(2) Pick a men's public washroom, preferably one you can monitor without appearing too creepy, especially one with a single urinal. To start put a penny in the urinal and leave. Check after fifteen or twenty minutes, then leave a nickel, then a dime, then a quarter, etc... all the way up to a Twonie. By keeping an eye on the bathroom you can discover who will pick up the smallest amount of pee-soaked coinage.


(3) When you answer the telephone and there's that 2-3 seconds of dead silence that warns you you're about to speak with a telemarketer, take a deep breath, prepare yourself, and when they say hello start your own telemarketing spiel on them. It's best if you have one already worked out, unless you have a flair for improvisation. My own favourite one so far has to do with helping out burned children... that way when they hesitate you can accuse them of supporting the burning of children. See if they can sell you better phone service then.

Mainly around the eyes...

We're into October, double digit deep...

So far there's been that familiar smell of dust burning off in the radiator from the first cold enough night.

There's been that evening when you stayed out later than expected and wished you'd brought your hoodie.

There's been mist in the ball field as the cold night air hits the infield dirt, warm from the traffic of two dozen feet.

Here's what I've been doing/thinking about:

I've been reading Mad Notions by John Lawrence Reynolds. Although the bulk of the story is set in Tennessee he is actual from Ontario. I hadn't read any "True Crime" books in quite a while... more or less burning through the genre a few years back researching Jack the Ripper for a couple of writing projects. I got my fill of Jack and moved on to more contemporary Serial Killer books... this is a little ahead of CSI and Se7en and the explosion of forensics/killer narratives we are still immersed in. This particular book is not about serial murder... rather it centers upon a single killling in a fairly small town/white trash setting. Reynolds takes what is a tawdry but fairly by-the-numbers homicide and works its simple details into a more interconnected story of a place that is superficially idyllic (iconic imagery of Dolly Parton included) but shot through by drug-related corruption that infects the infrastructure for more than a decade leading up to the murder. This backstory is much more interesting than the case itself... and ultimately the book is just a pretty good time-passer for slow stretches at the store.

Incidentally, one of the "Serial Killer" books I read back during that stretch that I'd really recommend... even if you aren't entirely interested in true crime is The Killer Department by Robert Cullen. It deals with the case of a Russian murderer, Andrei Chikatilo (left), who killed an estimated 52 people between 1978 and 1990, mostly children. While the psychology of the man responsible is fairly predictable if you've seen more than a couple of profiler crime dramas... the book deals more with the state of crime investigation before, during and after the period of Glasnost that transformed and opened up the then Soviet Union. Saddled with a strong party line stating serial murder was a "decadent western phenomena" impossible at home head investigator Viktor Burakov was stuck having to pursue dead end avenues searching out mental patients and homosexuals (because of a sexual component, but despite the fact both sexes were killed inclusively). The book was adapted into an equally well-told film called Citizen X, and in fact subsequent printings of the book took on this title.

Coincidentally... or perhaps not so much so... I've been watch season one of Dexter... a Showtime drama about a Miami forensics examiner (blood spatter analysis) who moonlights as a serial killer. I've had it recommended to me a few times and, despite reservations that the premise might be easily riddled with holes and/or clichés, I went ahead and grabbed it. While it isn't a slam-dunk, it is exceedingly well-acted, well-shot, and well-written... only occasionally faltering with police procedural and horror movie stock moments. The title character is constructed and portrayed in a complex, tightrope-walking, and ultimately convincing fashion that satisfies squeamish believability.


And for the ears...

A recent goodie box from Forced Exposure contained Samamidon's All is Well on Bedroom Community records. I had seen his first record mentioned online, how can you not notice something called But This Chicken Proved Falsehearted? But I'd not heard the music. All is Well features 10 traditional folk songs adapted by young Sam Amidon who is evidently gilded with tarnished vintage brass. He touches the sturdy acoustic tales with just enough whispery electronics to dislodge them from their dustbowls. Sam's style has echoes of Iron and Wine and Damien Jurado (two favourites) and is ridiculously easy to fall for. It comes out on October 23rd.

So there. Now you know.

Kerrections

It was pointed out by Jamliz that I made a mistake last post. The website work I credited to Cory Arcangel (Goooooogle [53Os].com), is actually by artist John Michael Boling. I made the mix-up reading an article in Tokion (see last post) and mixing up Arcangel's own work, featured later in the magazine, with Boling's who is recommended by Arcangel (see picture above).

Thanks for catching the screw-up... Cory's own work is outlined here. Good to find out someone's paying attention.

That's Life/What's good

You know how sometimes you get good at a job... and how getting good at that job, by extension, gives you the impression that you have a handle on how the rest of the world works?

*

I want to get printed bags for the store.

*

Stores have printed bags... you know... with their logo and address, etc.

*

Obviously these cost more than plain bags. Any fool could figure that out.

*

So some stores share the cost by getting other, somewhat interconnected, businesses to also include their logo on the bag.

*

I thought... why not get a Canadian label to co-op advertise with their logo on the bag?

*

I contacted a few... and only one response that hinted at a possible agreement.

*

So I forged ahead and started looking at websites for Canadian companies that do retail bags and printing. They are suprisingly quite poorly represented and even more poorly laid out as far as providing rate information. One was exceptionally well put together... but they had an alarming litany of add ons (plates, underruns, speed of shipping) that made me fearful of getting a last minute gouge.

*

So I e-mailed a few other sources and this seemed to be the bottom line: the bare minimum of bags required to constitute a printable order would take us about 17 years to go through. I usually buy boxes of 500 plain bags... these cost between $25-50 and generally last about 4-5 months (sometimes more)... between encouraging people not to use bags and having a regular customer base that is likely more forward thinking than most stores, ergo generally turning down a plastic bag... I don't use many of them any given day. The smallest number quoted to be for a viable print run? 25 000. Did I say 17 years? Closer to 25.

*

So no bags for me. Not now.

*

Onto what's good for this week.

*

I bought a new magazine to read at the store that I'd never tried before: Tokion. It was an issue based around a series of panels about creativity in the pop arts (i.e. television, internet, film, skateboarding). Some interesting, if overly brief, conversations. It wasn't until I put the magazine down that I realized that it was an issue from January of 2007. One of the more intrieguing panels involved new vs. old technologies in multimedia featuring contributions by the duo Matmos, Christian Marclay and Cory Arcangel. The first two I knew and had been a fan of for some time. Matmos are an experimental electronics group that have made albums entirely out of plastic surgery sound samples and have contributed to Bjork albums; Marclay is know as a turntablist but has also done visual arts projects and sound experiments... such as recording the sound of an amplified electric guitar being dragged around the backroads of the South in response to the racist murder of a black man in a similar fashion. Cory Arcangel I hadn't come across, but checked out some of his projects afterwards... mainly retro-ish internet based miniatures using very, very simple concepts... but fun ones nonetheless. Many are found here at his Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooogle.com website (53 o's).

*

My new show to try out for this year is Life on NBC. A cop drama starring Damian Lewis, who I'd only seen before in a little indie film called Keane where he starred as a mentally ill man searching for a missing daughter that may or may not exist. Here he plays a cop who'd spent 12 years in prison for a murder he didn't commit. After exhoneration (and a healthy monetary settlement) he's returned as a detective to the police force, partnered with a female officer who's had drug problems, gone through rehab, but whose job still hangs by a thread as she's tasked by her Lt. to monitor her partner... the Lt. plainly looking for a way to force Lewis' character off the job... perhaps for reasons not entirely pure. Lewis plays it quirky and engaging... trying to catch up with new technology, espousing Zen philosophy embraced in prison to get through constant beatings and mental torture, but with a zeal for some trappings of the material world... including... fresh fruit? Check it out.

*

Well, I'm in the library and my time is almost up. A lady a few computers ahead is on a video chat with a shirtless gentleman who looks like an overweight version of Louis Del Grande (from the old CBC show "Seeing Things.") I wonder if he knows his computer cam is broadcasting him into a public library?

Now that's art.

you cry party if you want to all the time

Occasionally records come into the store that demand contemplation... occasionally raising important instances of inter-connectivity we may have originally overlooked.

This is one:



Now some/most of you are probably familiar with the ditty "It's My Party." It was a fairly big hit when this album came out (in 1963). The songs refrain went (appoximately): It's my party and I'll cry if I want to / cry if I want to / cry if I want to / You would cry to if it happened to you. What I didn't realize until I saw the full length was how chock full of crying songs it was:

Side One

1. It's My Party
2. Cry Me a River
3. Cry
4. Just Let Me Cry
5. Cry and You Cry Alone
6. No More Tears

Side Two

1. Judy's Turn to Cry
2. I Understand
3. I Would
4. Misty
5. What Kind of Fool Am I
6. The Party's Over

This was a seventeen year old in need of mood stabilizing drugs!!!

After the initial belly-filling chuckles wore off I started examining this album in connection with another more recent one-track-minded artist's statement:


Andrew W.K. - I Get Wet (Island 2002)

1. It's Time to Party
2. Party Hard
3. Girls Own Love
4. Ready to Die
5. Take it Off
6. I Love NYC
7. She is Beautiful
8. Party 'Til You Puke
9. Fun Night
10. Got to Do it
11. I Get Wet
12. Don't Stop Living in the Red

At the time folks made a big deal over his preoccupation with partying, which appears in the titles of 3 of the 12 songs. But compared to Miss Gore's singleminded weepiness his focus is kaleidoscopic. Still the similarities are difficult to ignore. Especially given their common bond of "The Party."

So what I propose is a party summit... between the now "amazing 61 year old Lesley Gore" and "unremarkably 28 year old Andrew W.K."



It will, unavoidably, be titled: "It's My Party and I'll Puke if I Want to."

What's Good.

Here are a few things making this week easier to get through:



THE RETURN OF THE 99cent ARIZONA GREEN TEA CAN!!!

Regular readers may remember that I listed this giant among drinks as a minor obsession a while back... only to be later crushed when it was taken off the market for some sort of recall (lead paint?). The funny but troublesome way I found out it was being recalled was when I stopped in at Mazzuca's on York to grab a can. I got up to the counter and John said, "Yeah, they're recalling these... something wrong with the tops or pull tabs or something.... Anyway that's $1.13."

GOOD MAGAZINE.

Most of my normal magazine purchases have some musical connection, no matter how tenuous. But today I was feeling like I wanted to read about something else, so perusing the rack I came across the above eye-catching design. I flipped through it and saw articles about Buckminster Fuller, Chrisine Hefner, Mormons.... It essentially is a magazine about conservation and environment, but viewed from a design perspective. So they want to make the world better, but prettier too. I've only skimmed through it and read the first small sections... but one thing that also stood out was the subscription leaflet that flittered to the floor advertising the usual percentage savings available... but also that your full subscription fee would be donated to a charity organization of your choice (from their list that includes WWF, Unicef, Oceana and others). Pretty cool.



Mohawk Lodge - Wildfires (White Whale Records)

From Black Mountain to Ladyhawk to Chet to Lightning Dust... I've been impressed with the wealth of cool bands coming out of the Vancouver area over the last couple of years. White Whale doesn't (yet) have the high indie profile of a Scratch or a Mint records... but they sport a solid roster of dark folkie rock artists. This is Mohawk Lodge's second release and while the other had some sparkling moments this one is out and out gorgeous... with many invited guests on a chamber orchestra's worth of instruments... it stands up against the best recent albums by Magnolia Electric Co., Okkervil River or Micah P. Hinson. You can listen to tracks here.



Pjusk - Sart (12k)

More pretty (if a little ominous) Norwegian minimal electronics. Listen for yourself (sound samples from 12k):

Rim

Anelse

----

How I Spent My Summer Holiday

To offset the fact that I'd have to work back to back 6 day weeks starting on September 10th (due to an impromptu Eric's Trip reunion tour... ah the sacrifices I've made to rock...) I decided I would take a week off leading up. I started thinking about the last time I had a whole week off... and other than the stretches in May I take to cover the FIMAV for Exclaim!, I think it was actually the summer of 1991.

You know what that does to you?

In the weeks leading up to this miraculous stretch of off-workness I marvelled over the possibilities: I could go up to Ottawa and visit Marc L.; I could find out if there's a show I want to see anywhere on the East Coast; I could take a few days and hang around Percé and go out on boats and read and....

But.

I had to visit my folks at some point during the week. I hadn't made it up all summer and only seen them briefly in Quebec City (see previous entry).

The problem arises that, since I usually travel by bus everywhere, getting to and from Matapedia kills a day each way... Acadian Lines leaves F'ton at 11:30 and gets there at 5pm and vice versa. So now we're down to four useable days. I can still go down the coast to Percé though.

But.

I have upcoming Surge! shows on the 14th and 21st of September that needed posters, press, promotion, plus a raft of other previously backburnered tasks that it wouldn't do to leave undone before leaving... so that takes two days. And that leaves two days. In Matepedia. I can still go to Pointe-a-la-Garde one afternoon and walk on the beach and peek around all the my old childhood haunts.

But.

There are thunderstorms forecast for that day.

So... there's still a refrigerator full of food and court tv... and I did walk around the river that runs behind my folks' apartment.




It's incredibly low due to hot weather and very little rainfall. This is a salmon river, remember... one that usually draws wealthy tourists from all around the world.




Normally this point would be under about 8-10 feet of water. This isn't a structurally or aesthetically normal inukshuk... but my back hurts, so I can't stay bent over very long.


Back at homebase their's is a marvellously messed up kitty to torture... and my mom's slippers in the background, there.

So... the moral is... take vacations regularly, 'cos once you stop you completely lose the knack.