tonight on the agenda:

10pm at the Royal Albert.

hopelessly mediocre albums:

Alanis Morissette: Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie - as opposed to Jagged Little Pill





Ben Harper: Diamonds on the Inside - as opposed to Welcome to the Cruel World among others






Beck: Sea Change - as opposed to Guero, Odelay, Midnite Vultures






Coldplay: X&Y - as opposed to Parachutes in particular but also A Rush of Blood to the Head






The Flaming Lips: Transmissions from the Satellite Heart - as opposed to Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, The Soft Bulletin





Incubus: Fungus Amongus - as opposed to Make Yourself, Morning View






Led Zeppelin: Presence (with the exception of Tea for One) - as opposed to everything else in their discography






Powderfinger: Vulture Street - as opposed to Odyssey Number Five







Radiohead: Pablo Honey (even on a good day, this album pretty much only has Creep to redeem it.) - as opposed to everything else in their discography





The Verve: Urban Hymns - as opposed to, well, nothing.







okay. there it is.
this not a definitive list by any means.
i realize that i am probably missing a few things.
and please forgive me if i've offended anyone.
I'm not saying these albums are terrible by any means, and there are surely a few good tracks on all of them. Tracks that could in fact redeem the album if given a closer listen perhaps.
This list was mostly inspired by The Verve album.
The others, i just threw together.
Any thoughts?

why must our speech reflect our powerlessness?

a decision needs to be made today: a decision to be too distracted by beauty rather than panic about the romantic love that doesn't exist. because it will.

this is for the focus of beauty, not love.


am i fooling myself with naivety?

Art, not Love. Art.

you'll have to forgive me.
this is going to be an ugly one.

instead of talking the typical "bitter-single-person-on-valentine's-day" talk, i decided to talk about art.
then this day can somehow be redeemed as beautiful.
can it be though?

my question is: Why is Valentine's Day garb so tacky?
i could not fine one attractive piece of art to display here that fit my standard of aesthetics ...

are my standards too high?
or would you be satisfied with looking at something like this, especially something that is self-proclaimingly beautiful?

kill me.
the shape of the heart is awful. there's nothing more to say about it.
I'm sorry.
Do i sound bitter, or is my contempt justified?

unexpected volks.

these are beginning to become somewhat less clandestine than perhaps i'm even comfortable with.
but somehow, the need to make these words public seems important.
and after cranberry juice and a clove,
something has become apparent.

i had an unexpected telephone call tonight.
from someone i talk to very seldom.
but this individual is precious to me. someone i will know forever.
we discussed parents. similar problems. long nights. valentines day.
all these things we met on.
if i wasn't relying on MTS i'm sure our conversation could have lasted much longer.
this was a rare evening indeed.
when our moods and opinions coincided.
but how valuable this conversation was to me.
we discussed not the need for nicotine, but for the ambience created when inhaling it.
i think we are alike more than i think.

here's a little part of this person.
although there is more to him than this.
i'm certain of it.

-stamp-

particularly lonely.
listening to highly lyrical songs.
smoking a cigarette whose smoke is blue.
here for nine days.
alone.
i could not leave this apartment.
is the independance worth this?

I'm not really getting a lot out of this cigarette -
most of it is spent on watching the smoke through the lens of my camera.





it's two in the afternoon and i should be reading about art.
instead i'm watching it.
experiencing it.
can philosophy be experienced this way?
What would Danto say?
art must be transfigured.
but some art just is.
it doesn't need transfiguration.
some art can just drone on.
that's all you can expect of it.

the smell of insense has worn off.
i think i'm immune to it.

i don't do things right.
i don't take vitamins.
i don't eat very healthy.
my favorite food is cheese.
i think it shows.
i don't drink enough water.
but when i do, it's with two ice cubes.



[i stamp out my cigarette and get back to work.]

Sweatshop Union.

i have been recently inspired by my good friend Sharelle to look into a subject i have slacked off on exploring recently.

look inside your clothes and look at the tag.
where was it made?
9 times out of 10, i bet it wasn't Canada.

instead...this is what we see.
(does anyone recognize that red tag?)














and do you know what that means>>>
it was made in a place like this.














Latin America, China, India, Bangladesh, Taiwan...
these are the places our clothes are being made.
I think there are points to be argued both ways - but what i'm looking to find is consistency.
buy purchasing these clothes, we are:

• feeding money into an economy that, i think it's safe to say, needs the money more than we do.
• creating jobs for thousands of people that have little else to sustain them.

so are we doing our good deed for the day by going shopping and looking for a tag like this one?

certainly not.

what is the answer here? How can be we be consistent with our concern for people from third world countries yet support our own country's economy?

Not in Service.

although i'm not a true Winnipeger, i think its safe to say we have recently recieved a blizzard, and i wanted to show a few pictures to document this event for all the readers in Beautiful British Colombia.
this is the kind of thing i see when i look out my window.














most of the time, the snow is quite a pleasant sight, and can even create enjoyable experiences. the hard part comes when you're waiting for a bus. and just when you think a bus has finally arrived, and you've been standing outside for 20 minutes waiting with nothing but your eyes exposed to the air, this is what you see.
that damn NIS bus.

pagan poetry

another night.
damn the night.

an unmistakable one.
one that ended too early.
one where the most reachable thing was an answering machine and a busy signal.
damn that busy signal. it never gives.




what can really be counted on?
why are we dependent people?
where does this get us?

art is the only way out. music is the only way out.
take me to a concert and i'll be fine.

parallel video universes:

i had to take these from a friend.
a good friend named Spiro.

two videos: similarly created but so vastly opposite.

Death Cab for Cutie - Summer Skin













Sigur Ros - Hoppipolla


















Please take a few minutes and enjoy.

the new addition...

this is it. the new addition.
and this is its premier sighting.
One of the biggest honors of my life occured on Tuesday. (the day of the tattoo.)
watching my writing, in permanent ink, go into someone's arm is quite something to watch.

and what a compliment.

aren't they beautiful?

in case the text is difficult to make out:

"not a tame lion- but he's good."

Ray Charles is now on the calendar.
i think that means it's February.

a nice change from John Lennon.

we see a lot of him around here.
he's all over the walls, even on a pillow.
(but on the pillow it's pop art. that makes it okay. somehow pop art makes everything okay.)

Andy Warhol.

















i had a few failed theories today, like many other days.
but today those failures were contrasted with a few kind words.
a few of those words were from someone in a multi-purpose room.
the others were from a somewhat unexpected person in the hallway of the apartment building i live in.

a star is now hanging in my window. a white star.
it creates a soft light in the room.
i bet it looks nice from the street outside too.




i believe that it is now Friday. thank God.
who knew a glass of port could taste so good?
(like syrup.)