"Let The Devil Into Your Heart And You'll Never Be Alone"

I just found this weeks old post that I forgot to actually finish, but I like the links so I am posting it anyway. This is from sometime in September, pre-NY trip. Sorry I forgot. Then there is some new stuff at the bottom.

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Hi.

So I just found out that I get to go on a cute trip to NYC with my mister. He is going to play CMJ. New York is a special place for us. Well, for everyone, I know, but for us too. The way he puts it: "we arrived in New York roommates and left as man & wife." It's where we sat in central park in the rain that we didn't even notice because our hearts were just howling and we decided to just fucking go for it. Very cute.

Anyway, he is going to be sort of working for a bit of the time and I am actually looking forward to spending some time ripping around the big town on my own. I am going to see the obvious art institutions, of course, just because it has been a few years, but... I don't know, my favorite things in New York mostly happen while you're sitting on the subway or stopping at a weird little kiosk or getting lost looking for a venue or whatever. I am terrible at navigating cities by myself, I get hopelessly lost constantly, and it is the best. Ugh. That sounds so gross. I don't mean to be Wonderdick. (Mike Winters. Genius.)  I am just looking for an adventure.

Holy shit, coincidentally, look what I just found on If It's Hip It's Here... GPS SHOES!!

What in the?!?!? Made by Dominic Wilcox. Pretty handsome, for science shoes, I think. Those would come in handy for those who, like me, can't walk one city block without getting utterly lost.

Anyway.
I know I have posted a space dress on this blog before, and I fear that I am starting to develop some creepy THING for space dresses, but I really really really want this Setareh Mohtarez dress. :

Do you think you are pretty tough looking? Well, guess what? This woman has the most badass tattoo of all time. Her name is Joy Tompkins and she makes your tattoos look like little wussybaby tattoos.

These are crazy... this artist named Jon Rafman went through zillions of Google Street View photos and found all of these totally bizarro things that were captured and gathered them into one place. So awesome. Some of them are pretty disturbing. 
http://www.demilked.com/google-street-view-photos/

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And that's as far as I got. That is the end of the old post. I think I was planning to fill in the space between those links with the usual CUTTING TRUTH and BLINDINGLY BRILLIANT INSIGHT, but I didn't. I am not fixing the old post. It is done.

Now this part is a new one.

So recently Jill Stanton posted her new comic project on her page and it is one of those things that is so awesome that I can't decide if I am inspired to make art every minute of the day, or if I am convinced to just pack it in and start listening to Cold Play and having babies because I will never make anything that good. That is how I know that I really really like something, if it makes me a little bit depressed for a few days. I heard her mention that she is going to be dealing subscriptions at the upcoming Royal Bison, so you should definitely get up on that. I know I will. Anyway, here it is: http://headspaces.ca/.

If you have some time to kill and want to have your head blown off by awesome punk ladies, please look at this amazing thing: http://networkawesome.com/special/women-punk/

I went to see Stop Making Sense at Metro the other night. Accidentally went alone because I am bad at making plans. It was a bit tiring watching that many people on that much cocaine for so long, but there were totally some winning moments. I have learned that 1)David Byrne is a charismatic weirdo motherfucker and 2)TomTom Club are the fucking worst. I actually already knew part 1), but I was reminded. I like Talking Heads the most when he is launching off into the weirdosphere, as opposed to when he is rubbing up on Peter Gabriel polyrhythmic worldbeat dadjams (which Talking Heads do in SMS, a lot). 

I have also learned that sitting in a theatre alone is kind of a downer.

What else?

Nothing I guess.

I keep forgetting about posting recipes. Shit. I am hostessing a christmas brunch at my house in December so I have to start researching nice things to feed my friends. I have not started yet though, so instead I will leave you to watch this (posted on FB by my friend Jeremy Curry):

Later, stinkwads.

New name, same old everything else.

Hi! For reasons that are known by a few and not the business of most, I am shrugging off the old and stupid blog title "Dirt City Dream Captain" and adopting the moodier "Summer was a Bummer". I know change is hard, but I hope you'll stay with me. As I like to yell after every time I do a Facebook Fake Friend cull: "deadweight, fuck off!"

Besides, my friend Fish said to me the other day, "I have always fucking hated that name". Zing.

I am terrified of the US Federal Election.

I can't even be on the internet today. Everyone is so anxious. Uselessly urging all their like-minded friends on Facebook (who are either Canadian or Democrats) to NOT vote for that awful man. I think there should be a provision in NAFTA that allows Canadians to have some sort of secondary level vote for the American President, since it is going to affect us too. Doesn't that seem fair? More fair than us sitting up here helplessly watching and gnawing on our bloody cuticles and and pretending that we believe in god so that we have someone to beg to not let this go wrong?

Not that Obama is the golden saviour we all thought he would be, but the alternative is so terrifying. At least Obama seems like a rational human who gives a single shit about other humans. (And he's handsome).

We have our own nightmare running the show up here in frosty Canadia. Imagine Harper and Romney as a team? Oh god, how I wish you were there.

Is it possible to fake your own death and move to some deserted tiny island off the coast of Thailand in this day and age? Can it be done? Can someone show me how, because if shit goes down the way I am afraid it will go down, I can't stand to watch what will happen next.

I found this, but it seems to be written by someone who isn't very smart. I do not feel confident that this person could successfully fake a death and disappear. They have CLEARLY never seen an episode of CSI or Law and Order in their lives.  Do not take this person's advice: http://www.wikihow.com/Fake-Your-Own-Death

This guy did it, but definitely lacked the necessary commitment: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2072033/Canoe-man-John-Darwin-describes-easy-fake-death-life-insurance-payout.html Don't go back to your shitty hometown so you can do house repairs, ya numbskull. ESPECIALLY when you were already all the way to Panama with a stack of cash and were CLEARLY in no danger of getting caught. Dummy.

If President Mitt becomes a thing outside of my worst imaginings and I am forced to fake my own death and move somewhere tropical, I won't come back. I hate doing household fixing jobs.

Living on a deserted island seems like it could be ok... (meow):

Sorry. That was gross of me.

But not as gross as this:

Anyway, if anyone reads this who is ACTUALLY a registered American voter, particularly if you are on the fence for whatever reason, please please don't let us down. And if anything like this happens to you: http://jezebel.com/5958108/oh-lovely-at-least-one-voting-machine-in-pennsylvania-isnt-accepting-votes-for-obama?utm_campaign=socialflow_jezebel_facebook&utm_source=jezebel_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow or this: http://thenextweb.com/shareables/2012/11/06/reddit-user-captures-video-of-2012-voting-machines-altering-votes/  REPORT IT.

There are these layers upon layers of politicking and it is so exhausting trying to figure out one real thing in what is going on. It's so insidious and it's so hard not to be cynical. It makes me feel tired and sad and old. 

Anyway, if I "die tragically" when this is all done, Fish gets my records, Norm gets my books, Amy Van Keeken gets my accessories and no one is fucking allowed to read my old diaries!

xo

Honey, I'm Too Old For You

Oh man. I just read some hilaaaaarious secret melodrama writing that I did around the time of my last post. Haaaahaha. SO.VERY.FRAUGHT.

Dummy. Get over it.

I should start posting that shit in public. Maybe that way I'll eventually be too embarrassed to have secret sulky teenage feelings all over the internet. Maybe I'll be shamed into writing something good/less self absorbed for a change. HAA! FAT CHANCE. 

Annnnyway, so now it is fall. Everyone has paler faces and rosier cheeks and I just want to eat roasted squash and sit beside a fireplace.

I don't have a fireplace, unfortunately, so if anyone wants to invite me over to sit by theirs, I will bring squash and probably some bourbon. (Hot toddy, anyone?)

I like this time of year. Everyone's trained to have back-to-school-this-time-I'm-going-to-do-it-right feelings still, no matter how long it's been since we've been students and everyone gets so organized and determined about their project plans. I like that every person I talk to is losing their shit with busyness, is starting a new crop of projects, is travelling somewhere great, is changing creative disciplines just for the hell of it, ...is finding some spicy cab driver fella to spoon them through the distant dusty nights (pow! Atta girl!)... Also fall fashion is the best and everyone looks hotter these days. I am going scarf and boot shopping later today. I love scarf and boot shopping.

(Edit: speaking of fall fashion being great, please check out lovely Jessica Kennedy's (aka Chaos and the Dark) etsy page with lots of really super adorable fall vintage. I just died several times over that plaid cape.  And the grey wool jacket! Oh my! Look at it here: http://www.etsy.com/shop/ChaosandtheDark. While you are at it, have a look at her website here: http://chaosandthedark.com/. She makes perfect accessories (my 'Oui' necklace remains my favorite even after months and months), she has a very cute dog and puts on vintage pop up events every couple of months, and all of those things are on her website.

Also she is completely charming and her writing is nice to read.)

Yeah. Fall. Totally into it. So much better than the boozy melancholy of summer. (Hmm. Do I mean that? I can't decide.)

Also, now I am a wife! That may also be part of why I am so pleased that it is fall... That wedding was totally the best and most fun, but jesus, I thought I would die from the stress of making it go. Now it is DONE. Mister Dream Captain and I better make it, because there is no way in hell I am ever doing that again.  My personal goal was to make a wedding that I would have had fun attending, and I think that if I had been a guest at that wedding I would have thought it was pretty good.

Mother nature really screwed me with the hurricane winds and rain early in the day, but she sure made it up to me with the incredible northern lights show at night. FINE, mother nature. You're off the hook for now, but I'm watching you this winter (smacking fist into palm, menacingly).

I don't want to be crass here, but we got totally spoiled with wedding presents. One thing that we got that has basically made Mr. Dream Captain into the happiest man of all time is this: A carbonator!

Suck it, Perrier, you dinks! You haven't been as good since Nestle bought you and now you get no money from me! I'll bubble my own water thank you very much. I highly recommend that everyone get one of these. The non-stop hilarious belching alone is worth it.

The Lad Mags lady squad (sorry Joe) is heading to Vancouver in a couple of weeks to play a show at Antisocial Skateshop with Slow Learners.

Sooooo excited. We are also going to record a couple of songs while we are there and I can't wait to start putting out HIT REKKIDS. Haha. Seriously though, there is some cute stuff on the way. Can't wait. If you are in the vicinity on Saturday September 29th, please join us. If you are not in the vicinity but are up for a road trip, also please join us.

I was determined to write something new yesterday and had a full nervous breakdown after smashing headlong into the most stubborn case of writer's block of all time. The worst. I was pretty close to fucking Pete Townshending my guitar to little bits. Some pals gave some nice advice when I moaned on Facebook about it, but I think I am going to make it a mission to assemble a collection of tips and tricks so that when it happens again, instead of flying into a Donald Duck rage and not accomplishing anything, I'll MAGICALLY be able to coax works of GENIUS out of my brains and fingers. If you would care to share your hot tips, please do. Let's collect them all and then give them to everyone.

Highlights of Facebook advice:
-Walk away from the guitar, eat a banana, do a shot of tequila
-Bang some groupies, get the clap, have some illegitimate babies
-Dick around with other tunings (that is actually solid grown-up advice. Nice.)
-"Fucking Writer's Block Get Off My Dick" is almost a haiku, roll with it. (I AM A GENIUS.)

Also Dorgz sent me this interview with Greg Saunier (from Deerhoof), which is helpful insofar as it's nice that someone like this needs tricks and doesn't pretend to have magic powers or something, but is less helpful in that this person also has unlimited time to be present to the creative process, whereas I have a couple of hours between work and whatever I have to do in the evening. I guess it is about priorities. Anyway, here is the interview, from Thinkjar Collective:  http://www.thinkjarcollective.com/2012/09/think-jar-collective-interview-with-greg-saunier-of-deerhoof/

Anyway, ideas. Share them with me.

Here is the theme song of the rest of my life:
Jack Oblivion - Honey, I'm Too Old For You.

Ok, loooove yooooou. Recipe time!

Faaaalllllll Soooouuuuup! The best thing! My mom brought over a batch of this the other day and it was so perfect and now I want to make everyone eat it. So here is the recipe (I ripped this from the Food52 site). Make it and eat it.

Roasted Fennel and Celery Soup - please note that I had this soup without the cream added and it was really great, so vegans, sub in some veggie stock for chicken broth and have some snuggly comfort food along with the rest of us meat eating savages.

• 8 large celery stalks cut into 2 inch pieces
• 1/2 bulb fresh fennel cut into 2 inch chunks
• 2 large whole garlic cloves
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 3 medium redskin potatoes, peeled and cut into a 1 1/2 inch dice
• 6 cups chicken broth
• 1/2 cup light cream or half and half
• 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
• Salt and pepper for re seasoning if needed
• Celery leaves and fennel fronds for a little garnish

1. Place the cut celery, fennel and cloves of garlic in a 9x13 inch roasting pan. Add the salt, pepper and olive oil and toss to thoroughly coat everything. Roast in a 350F oven for 40 to 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the edges of the vegetables just begin to brown.
2. While the vegetables are cooking, cook the potatoes in the chicken broth until tender..about 10 to 12 minutes. Set the pan aside to cool a bit.
3. When the vegetables have finished roasting add them to the potatoes and broth. Let everything cool a bit.
4. In a blender puree the soup in batches. If you have a "liquify" setting on your blender use that. If you like you can strain the soup through a mesh strainer. Once pureed. return the soup to the pot and bring up to the boil. Stir in the cream/half and half and the lemon juice. Re season if needed and garnish each bowl with celery leaves and fennel fronds if you like.
5. NOTE: For a little more pronounced celery flavor add a pinch or two of celery seed or salt when re seasoning.

Your sky is full of castles. My sky is full of shitting birds.

I want to slow down time. Like, not do fistfulls of ketamine and live in slow motion, but I mean actually just have every day be two days long, just til the end of summer.

Things were going pretty well. I got pretty seriously fryingpanned in the face last weekend by a few things and I still can't get my head on straight about it. Come on, lady. No time to mope. There are commitments and obligations and the ever-onward march toward forever after to contend with and each day refuses to contain more than 24 hours as much as I shake my fists and demand it. There's no time to lay on the floor listening to the Smiths and sighing. But I want to.

(That's just a metaphor, guys. I don't listen to the Smiths when I am sad. Or sit in the bathtub for days at a time. Those are other people's techniques. I stare into the middle distance, whine on the internet, drink like an asshole, get FURIOUS that I am so stupid and throw several mental tantrums about it and don't get my work done. Dummy.)


Instead let's listen to Cosmonauts and tear off giant chunks of our to-do lists with our teeth:

(From the "If You Wanna Die, Then I Wanna Die" LP on Burger Records. Good stuff. Whole thing's streaming here: http://cosmonautstheband.bandcamp.com/album/if-you-wanna-die-then-i-wanna-die. Thanks Joe.)

Speaking of cosmonauts, this fucking old nugget wormholed into my brain for no reason a few days ago and made a home. No sign of leaving. Hmph. Weird, considering I don't think I have heard it since I was in like the 8th grade or something:

Embarrassing. I think it's a very bad sign when you start getting hung up on songs from your youth. Definitely means you're 1) old and 2) bored (/boring?). Ugh. Reason number 9 zillion to buck up, get some shit done, get this party planned so there is time to get awesome and start some new projects before we dive back under another dirty Edmonton winter. So we don't have to listen to the sad hits of our childhood anymore. Well, just a couple more times, maybe.

Hey! I am having like a total pioneer woman week. Tonight some babes are getting together on the rooftop balcony of my hot photographer friend and she is teaching us how to hook rugs. Seriously. That is a thing I will know how to do after today. Take THAT winter. If that doesn't get me on a good team post zombie-apocalypse then I just don't know what. I plan to do hooked rug portraits. Huge ones. I think a living room sized Nobunny rug portrait would be a great place to start. Then maybe my dog.

Nobunny:

Actually, let's be fair:

My dog:

The other thing is that in preparation for my upcoming cabin wedding, I am forcing a bunch of my cute nice friends to come over and help me pickle various things in cute jars as guest favours. What no one knows is that I have never pickled anything in my life, with the exception of my liver. It could be a total disaster, OR it could be another pioneer lady skill that will come in handy when I have decided to give up on humans and go to live in the forest alone. I have recipes. They had to work for someone, right? What could go wrong?

Speaking of alone (and I am not going to dwell on this, don't worry) SWEET MERCIFUL FUCK, CAN WEDDING PLANNING EVER SUCK IT!!! Man, this is brutal. I want to make a list of all the people whose weddings I attended and give them several extra presents. How do people do this? Anyone want to take over? I'd be happy to skip town and go eat pickles and hook rugs in the forest. All the face-fryingpanning is not helping that scenario either. So dumb. I can't wait until it is the day and there is nothing else I can crap my pants about so I can just have awesome friend times and romance times and it will all be... settled.

Anyway. Whine whine. Sorry.

Oh, this is really awesome! Dara Humniski is selling some art! I know I talk about her non stop on this blog, but she's totally amazing.

(Lino-cut & ink, framed - $150)

(Lino-cut & ink, uframed - $125)

(Scratch card & ink, unframed - $200)

So good. Sigh.

I would just like to say that if I hear another sweaty word from ANYONE about Fifty Shades of Grey I am going to start punching in teeth. Gross.

That being said, I am out of books that I want to read. Does anyone have a list they can share with me? It's summer so, you know, keep it interesting. Not sweaty nerd masturbation interesting, as mentioned above. Thx.

Fish just recommended "Empire of the Summer Moon" by S.C. Gwynne.

Review is here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/11/books/review/excerpt-empire-of-the-summer-moon.html?pagewanted=all

He said it kind of reads a bit like Blood Meridian, which of course blew my fucking hair back because Cormac McCarthy is a genius and a dark motherfucker. He actually said it was like Blood Meridian except that the story is all true. So... you know, I am debating whether or not I can actually handle that. I think it may put my melodrama into perspective so maybe I can get over myself and get some shit done. Seems a good reason.

Anyway, sorry for the lame post. I'm too busy.

I'm a lover but I'm calling you out

I just stared at the 'edit title' field for twenty minutes with no new title ideas. The search continues for a new name for this dumb thing.  Any ideas?

It's been too long since I awkwardly overshared on this thing. Seems like my silly heart does bizarro shit when I don't talk to myself on the internet frequently enough. I guess it's kind of comforting that getting wicked old doesn't mean I can't still get preposterously emotional about totally stupid things. I am not going to grow out of that at some point. This is it, folks. This is what I turned out like.

Wanna hear about my wedding? Just kidding.

The work hard/play hard crew was out in full force last night. That was really fun. I love them all so hard. I totally can't keep up with them, it's really embarrassing. This morning I feel like a sun-baked turd soaked in gasoline. Don't try to keep up with the youngbloods. How often must this lesson be taught? Ungh. Such a dummy. I felt and acted like a fucking weirdo a little bit. As usual. Embarrassing. Hearts are complicated. (And resilient. It'll be ok.) Ramona Quimby complex, man. Always doing it just a little bit wrong. I try, I swear.

Regret.

Pizza Regret! Coconut Coolouts! I heard about this band from Joe and they are great:

Not one single fuck is given by these little scamps. I will watch and learn.

The Lad Mags recording is done. (Somehow people were getting drunkenly forced to listen to it last night. Sorry. I am pretty sure it wasn't my fault, but that's pretty embarrassing. Really, I'm totally sorry about that.) I am really excited about it. I know people probably wouldn't tell me if it sucked, but I am hearing good things, which is nice. We worked hard. Also a whole crew of people (Fish, Doug, Jessica) also worked hard. We're so lucky. That band is saving my life right now. Also consuming a pretty giant portion of it, about which I couldn't possibly be happier. I don't want to get too smushy about it, but I love those guys. Anyway, we have to get it replicated now. I think a 7" first. Maybe a cassette single. Cassingle. Anyone have a place they use that is awesome? I don't know how to do any of these things. I don't think you're supposed to admit that. Oopsies.

You should listen to this show: https://wfmu.org/playlists/BS

It is The Best Show with Tom Scharpling. It totally rules. He is such a smartass. I am totally jealous. Funny shit. I think there is some sort of licensing issue where they have to take out all the music that he plays when the show is live, which is too bad because he seems to know everything good about music, but seriously, this show is awesome. I demand that you watch it. Watch it? Listen to it. It is a radio show. Ugh. My rotting brain.

Angie Pontani is coming to town, which gives me maximum glitter boners. For those who don't know, she is one of the greatest burlesque artists currently out there, truly an incredible performer, a stone cold fox, an athlete and an artist. Reigning Queen of Burlesque in 2008. Seriously, I can't waaaaait.

Ok. The end. Recipe time. My hangover and this heatwave are begging for Gazpacho-style chilled soup. So refreshing and just a little spicy vinegar kick... Total recovery guaranteed. I might be too lazy to make it happen, but I am increasing the chances by having the recipe out and ready to go, so you might as well make it along with me. This is like gazpacho without a whole loaf of mushy bread blended into it. Ick.  1) Soggy bread is gross and 2) Gazpacho calls for,  like an ENTIRE loaf of French bread and that shit is TERRIBLE for you. It's bare skin season, man. Watch those white flour calories. You're welcome.

Some notes: There used to be onion in this recipe. I always skip or drastically reduce the onion because I actually kind of hate onions and I lots of times add celery because I totally love celery and actually sometimes love adding a little wilted spinach to the mix as well, although that kind of alters the vibe of the soup a bit, just so you're warned. Vibe. Seriously? Jesus, Aspen. Anyway, follow your hearts on this one, buddies. It's a forgiving recipe. You should freestyle. More fun that way.

Ingredients

• 2 pounds Roma (plum) tomatoes, quartered
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 4 cloves garlic
• 1 quart chicken stock
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
• 1/2 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• salt to taste
• ground black pepper to taste

Directions

1. Place the tomato halves, cut side up, on a baking tray with the garlic cloves. Drizzle with the oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast at 375 degrees F (195 degrees C) for 1 hour.
2. Snip the ends off the garlic cloves, and squeeze the insides into the bowl of a food processor along with the entire contents of the baking tray. Add stock, basil, and vinegar; blend until smooth. Season to taste. Serve either hot or cold.

Like a Rake

I love Townes Van Zandt. No surprise there, most people tend to. Also metal, I love that too. Imagine my delight when I found this:

WINO, Scott Kelly (Neurosis, Shrinebuilder), and Steve Von Till (Neurosis, Harvestman), have put out this three way split record of TVZ covers. Each song is distilled and bare, acoustic guitar and weary, haunted, gravel voices. There's a sense that these guys are infusing these already harrowing songs with their own tragedies, like a tattooed arm flung over TVZ's coathanger shoulders, one depressed alcoholic crooning to another. It's fucking devastating and awesome.

Listen to 'Rake' here (via Broken Beard): http://www.brokenbeard.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/05-Rake.mp3

On a lighter note -

Our new band The Lad Mags were in the studio last weekend. It is kind of funny, really, we are still not even fully cooked yet, a month away from our first show, still figuring out how we work together, still kind of bouncing around in terms of what we want to sound like... But there is a recording! It went really well. I like this band so much and Doug did a great job and in my totally biased opinion, we sound pretty good. This was taken by Doug after we finished recording our vocals (Joe had finished his drummer duties and eventually had to go home because that crazy man starts work at FIVE IN THE MORNING so he didn't get to be in this photo, which is a bummer):

Hoping we can get some sort of shareable version of the record (maybe a 7 inch? That would be ideal) ready in time for our Edmonton and Calgary shows at the end of the month. The Edmonton show is at the Artery on June 29th with Dead Ghosts from Vancouver. The Calgary show is at the Palomino on June 30, with The High Kicks, which is a pretty rad sounding smashing duo featuring Dan Vacon, the bearded and talented. Bison is playing that same night in Calgary, which is a bummer because they are so good, but... what can you do? These are summer problems.

I have been totally into dioramas by David Hoffos lately. When I was in art school I always wished I had more time for assignments because I always wanted to create this little compartmental scenes (not that I would have achieved anything like this, obviously). I like the quietness of a contained other three dimensional space. And these ones in particular are either occupied by holography ghosts or are not occupied at all which makes them sort of terrifying. It's really funny, when I lived in smalltown AB I remember going to the AGA for the first time and seeing this totally involved installation (I can't remember who the artist was, sadly... anyone who knows please share) and it was set up like an inventor's workshop except he made wishes or dreams or something like that, and there were all these motion sensors and as you moved through the installation all these tools and magic looking inventions would start moving or start playing old music or whatever and it was like walking into a better, magic place and I never wanted to leave. Weirdly, my taste in art hasn't seemed to change much. Those are the same things I feel and love about these dioramas. Anyway, David Hoffos. Check him out. He is from Lethbridge.

Maybe it is just that I want to crawl into one of those weird quiet spacey little scenes and hide away. There are so many things that I bet that tiny night-time Airstream trailer would protect me from just fine.

Anyway, let's get to that recipe.


I made fruit crisp last night, and am a recent convert to making fruit crisp. I know it seems weird to be making my first one ever at my age, but it's true. And the timing is perfect. Fruit is so beautiful right now. I love that EVERYTHING GOOD is in season.

Sooooo, you should make this. This isn't the one I made last night, it is first one I made a couple of months ago and it is totally delicious:

I always just eyeball amounts so sorry this is kind of vague...

Fruit Crisp:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F

You'll need
- peeled and cubed mango
- peeled and cubed ripe pear
- peeled and cubed apple
- fresh or frozen berries
- peeled and cubed peaches
(Sub whatever you want. Bananas are good! Plums! Whatever!)
- juice and zest of one lemon - I HAVE LEARNED THE HARD WAY THAT LEMON JUICE IS NOT AN OPTIONAL INGREDIENT. TRUST ME.
- brown sugar and white sugar (every recipe I find calls for TOO MUCH sugar, so I always reduce it. I use between half and three quarters of a cup of white and brown sugar combined, depending on how ripe/sweet the fruit is that I am using. More sugar does not always mean more deliciousness!)
- rolled oats
- unbleached flour
- smashed pistachios (raw!)
- pinch of salt
- about a 1/2 cup of butter, melted.
- 1 tsp cinnamon
- 1/2 tsp ginger
- 1/2 tsp ground cloves
- 1/2 tsp nutmeg

First mix together the cinnamon, ginger, cloves and nutmeg in a little dish.

Put the fruit into a baking dish, add lemon juice and zest and about 2 tablespoons of sugar (or maple syrup or whatever sweet things you like). At a pinch (or 2?) of the spice mixture, and stir until fairly evenly coated.

In a mixing bowl, add one cup of flour, one cup of rolled oats, the amount of sugar you decided on based on what was discussed above, a pinch of salt and the remaining spice mixture and the smashed pistachios (if you want to use them, which you don't have to). Add melted butter and combine thoroughly. It should end up with a moist crumbly texture. Some people add an egg to the mixture at this point, but I never have and the topping always turns out how I want it.

Spread the oat mixture evenly on top of the fruit in the baking dish. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Eat that shit because that shit is DELICIOUS.

xo

Get Wild!

Woah. That was an accidental super-hiatus. What a total life explosion.

Dirt City Dream Captain update: in case I haven't squealed about it to every single human in the universe already: Me and Mr. Dream Captain are making it official this September! So, if anyone cares, sorry I didn't post for so long. Planning a wedding in 4 months is hilariously stressful. It went from a small and simple event to a big event with loads of details to be considered so fast that I didn't even see it happening. Also, in addition to my own crazy feelings and sleeplessness and eatlessness, HOLY SHIT, OTHER PEOPLE TURN INTO MARTIANS WHEN YOU ARE MAKING A WEDDING. Seriously. Previously sweet and lovely people have turned into wicked manipulative monsters. I hear that this is a normal thing that happens and that it will go back to normal after the thing is done, but jesus.... I am starting to fantasize about telling everyone to just get off my dick and eloping to a quiet beach.

ANNNNNNNYWAY. Sorry to go on and on and on and on and on and on and on. I know no one wants to hear anyone talk about their wedding planning. It is hard to have something occupy ALL your time and ALL your energy and ALL your life and to have to bite your tongue

Here are some things that are nice for your eyes and life:

1. These lamps! Holy crap! I want to tear up my home and remake it around these lamps! They are dreamy!

2. These vintage photos of dancers with rainbow laser embroidery! (Thanks Dara for bringing these to my attention) Totally perfect.

3. Speaking of Dara, brilliant Dara Humniski is cooking up some new treasures for her jewelry line, Here With Me. I am drooling already. This is my favorite line of accessories ever. This lady's talent is pretty breathtaking.

I highly suggest everyone get her stuff now because she is going to be the most famous person we know and she will not undercharge for her beautiful things forever.

I have the long version of this necklace and so far I haven't found a single outfit that it doesn't drastically improve. :

Allllso, I am thinking about renaming this blog. I have to. Dirt City was a cute term when it was a thing that 6 people said to each other with a wink, but it is now a different thing and is used liberally all over (sometimes in ways that make me grit my teeth a bit) and it really doesn't mean the same thing anymore. Not to sound like I have any ownership over it or whatever, I really truly don't, it just doesn't seem appropriate anymore. It has been kind of wrecked for me. I don't know what the new name will be yet. I am open to suggestions.

Listen to this: Night Beats did a limited split 7 " with TRMRS.  Hear it here: Night Beats - Messiah

These guys are so good that it makes me feel weird. 

And I think that's it for now? That's all I have time for now. I resolve to be less ignore-y with this blog. Writing, even silly yelling into the void about my own dumb whatever, is my favorite thing.

Here is a summer recipe, as it is now summer. Thank god. It seemed like this winter was going to go without a hitch, and then suddenly a whole bunch of people that I love just totally fucking unraveled and there was just the smell of smashed heart bits on everything and just a feeling like a stomach full of rocks because I wanted to help and totally couldn't and it's not really my business anyway but that doesn't mean I won't lose sleep over it for weeks at a time. Anyway, it seems like the smashed things are being rebuilt and everyone is working hard and the best thing is that everyone just made themselves no-time-to-think busy with making totally great art and music and projects of all kinds, so at least out of the shit storm will come a whole bunch of really great stuff.  Oops, right. Recipe.

Ok, this is sort of made up so please forgive the inelegant language, but I swear it is super delicious.

Fruit Salsa and Cinnamon Chips OR how to be the most popular person at a brunch potluck:

Cut the following into small salsa-appropriate chunks:
(these are suggestions, feel free to GET WILD)
-mango
-strawberries
-green grapes
-bananas (don't cut these too small, they get mooshy and give your salsa a really gross snotty texture)
-grapefruit
-kiwi
-pomegranate seeds
-gala or pink lady or golden delicious or some other really sweet kind of apple

In a separate little bowl mix together the juice of one lemon (eyeball the amount according to how much fruit you use. Use more or less according to how big the salsa batch is!)
A couple of very generous splashes of maple syrup (don't use fake stuff! It's gross!)
and here's the secret winning ingredient: A TON of grated ginger. Like seriously a ton. The more kick the better. Don't worry, the sweetness of the fruit and maple syrup will mellow it out.

Pour the mixture over the salsa and mix it together really well. This salsa is really good right away, but fucking DEADLY if it can sit and marinate for a while.

Then you need these things:
- soft flour tortillas
- a couple of tablespoons of melted butter (in a pinch regular canola oil or whatever will totally work, but will just be slightly less delicious).
- a mixture of cinnamon and white sugar.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.

Brush one side of the tortilla with melted butter and then sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar. Cut into little wedges, spread them out on a cookie sheet and bake them for about 8 or 10 minutes, until they are crispy and brown. Keep an eye on these because the time between browned and blackened is not very long. These are super delicious so make lots as you will likely "test" a few before you head out to the brunch you are about to be the queen/king of.

There you go!
xo!

Button Down

I am totally feeling Roky Erickson lately. That howl. There's this restless hunger. Maybe it's spring. Maybe it's staring down the barrel at the funnest vacation of all time (1 sleep! Or rather one night of staring at the ceiling hoping I don't forget to bring pants!) that I am secretly a little bit afraid I'll never recover from. Restless unsatisfied, in spite of so many nice things right in front of me. Maybe it's that I can see (sort of? I think?) where I should be/want to be and have no idea how to get there. My friend Fish (smarter and better than most) said we're "like cats staring at meat through glass". That seems right. It's a weird thing to be shaking with impatience to get to the next thing and to have no fucking idea what that is or how to start to get there. (Sorry, I know it is brutally obvious to post this video, but I LOOOOOVE this song. I LOOOOOOVE it. I don't care how many shitty cheesy compilations it has been put on. It shreds.)

Things felt a little sparkly for a while there. That's done now. It was all nice hearing about friends taking over Berlin and inventing art and ideas faster than our wine mouths could say them and having Coe in town and feeling like this was a different life, a freer more glamourous one,  and seeing beckoning options, enticing, in all directions. I forgot how things are for a sec. Nothing gets me hotter than a lost cause usually, but eventually you get tired of listening even to really great records. A little break from Dirt Town is coming at the perfect time. I'm going to worry about being at multiple shows at once rather than contemplating the complexities of human emotion/developing protection strategies for the damage people are determined to inflict on themselves. Who the fuck do I think I am, anyway? Excuse me, I am going to be over here minding my own business via this bottle of whiskey.

Who just posted this on Facebook the other day? I can't remember. It is a Roky Erickson cover that is pretty rad. Thanks whoever posted that first. Joe maybe? I don't know. Whatever.

That is all. I am adopting buttoned-down cynicism as my method of surviving SXSW with the rowdiest group of friends one could imagine travelling with. Maybe we'll see you in a week. Maybe never again. Who can say?

Also baffling: this is a thing. Gabber. Fucking weird. If you want to feel like you are being jabbed in the brain with a dick, follow the link to the music. Jesus. I like the testimonials about dudes seeing these wasted people in matching colourful sweatsuits and thinking 'man, I NEED TO DO THAT'. I don't understand anything at all.

xo

A Stern Lecture on Shame

So, let's talk about shame spirals. I have them (lots, loudly), you've had them. Some people I know seem to have them basically constantly. It is a recurring theme with a bunch of people I really like recently and I have been thinking about it a lot. So here it is.

A friend recently linked to a blog post by some guy who wanted to talk about shame and I read it and just wanted to smack the writer upside the head. In his case, his shame was around the fact that he failed at business and had to move out of NYC and found himself lying to people and acting like a shithead because he couldn't admit he was struggling. He was talking about the process of coming to terms with that, which would obviously be incredibly hard, but that fucker whined and WHINED and acted like both his behaviour and his subsequent shame about it was somehow outside of his control, or out of character or something. An affliction that was happening to him that he was learning to carry with him blah blah blah. He vaguely mentioned his marriage ending throughout this process and I see why. No one wants to be married to (or do business with, apparently) someone who treats their life like it is something that just happens to them and then weeps about their shame when they are not winning. Whatta dipstick. I flipped through a few other posts and he's a good writer, likeable when he is not talking about himself, and has some really good things to say, but is ultimately a victim in his life. Sad.

We all know that feeling shame is our choice, right? I mean it's kind of fun to wring your hands and smack your forehead on the table and howl about REMORSE once in a while, but really, if you think about it, shame is totally invented to insulate you from either knowing or admitting what kind of person you are. You get that little twinge that lets you know you are not a psychopath, but beyond that the rest is basically just making yourself feel better (or feel gratified by feeling worse). And also it is a pretty useless waste of your time and emotional energy. You have better things to do, I know you do. Just fucking deal with it. You act like yourself all the time, no matter what you are doing. To have a nervous breakdown about it after the fact just means that you are trying to fight being what you actually are.

People are funny. We do stupid things, even really smart, awesome, driven, kind and lovely people do them. We drink too much or get too stressed out and flip our lids, act like maniacs, do things that do not reflect the person that we think we are. But seriously, if that wasn't the person you are then you wouldn't be doing the things you do. So, instead of spending a week laying on the floor feeling like shit about living your life like a normal healthy person (because we ALL do these things) why not congratulate yourself on not being a fucking corpse, and head on to whatever you have to do next? By all means, freak out if you want to, shame spiral and wring your hands and feel TERRIBLE. But just understand that it is a self-indulgence. You are authoring this, it is not being done to you. You should probably just laugh about it all instead.
xo


(P.S. In all fairness, that blogger sort of arrived at the fact that shame is stupid too by the end of his post, but it was still in a new age-y transcendent way that suggested he was overcoming something difficult, rather than rethinking his choice to torture himself, still not really admitting that he acted like a lying shithead because part of his personality is a lying shithead, which makes me think he's still got some work to do).

On paper

 Say what you want about how he ended up, but Jack White used to shred. It's been a while, but I bet he still can, when he's not busy inventing crappy supergroups. This Captain Beefheart cover has always been a dirty favorite and I bring it out whenever I'm feeling like I need to shake it all off and just fucking howl for a while. It's like that now. I will convince you all and myself that I do not give a microfuck. Watch me.

I stopped sleeping again, so everything seems the weirdest. I don't know why this happens. Cursed fretting. I wish I could be more selective about when I stay up all night in knots about things, mostly about things that are not my problem, my fault or my business. The upside is that the psychedelic state my poor fatigued brain is in has made it lots easier to write songs for this new thing that is starting to come together. It is going to be so awesome. I can't wait to be able to tell everyone about it.

I guess this insomnia is going to be good practice for SXSW next week. There will be no sleeping. There will be tacos, there will be The Best Wurst, there will be an open bar at our hotel every single day (seriously, that's how Texas does happy hour) there will be sweaty dirty savage little rock & roll monsters roaring around in the streets and I am going to roar with them and I am not going to worry about one single thing. Take that, adult life.

Speaking of roaring monsters, I am pretty excited about High on Fire's new banger. Everyone should go listen to it right now. Except Anna Coe. Anna, this is not for you. Everyone else, stream it here.

I don't feel like writing so here are some photos of things that I am looking at:

I think Karl Lagerfeld is a twat, but then look at the jewel encrusted cuff, the gold and amethyst breastplate and that clutch (!!!) that he just showed! God. I'm dying. This is from the Chanel RTW FW 2012 show, in case anyone cares. Accessories! (re: the above link, I don't care about Adele, just to be clear).

 I have to perform at this 1920s Prohibition themed party at some place called Suede Lounge tonight for Yelp and I have been scouring the internet for ways to make my ass-length scruffy mop do this:

So far, no luck. What a disaster! I hate sucking at period costumes.

Obviously I need this bag in order to have a fulfilled life:

(It's by Vlieger & Vandam) 

Whatever. This post is dumb. Sorry! I need a nap!
xo!

Love the Sinner

I'm back to hanging out in the bathtub again, metaphorically speaking. Unexpectedly. Things were looking so good. There has to be some way to put more distance between these involuntary toe gazing sessions.

This weekend was 100% lovely in every way. One million wine dates with my best favorite human, Anna Coe, who has finally come back to us. We went on fancy lady dates and drank all the wine and funny Prohibition era gin cocktails. We wore furs and gloves and I realized how terrible it was having my best friend on the other side of the world. (I got lipstick on one of my pairs of vintage Dior gloves, which TOTALLY SUCKS. Nice one, drunky). It really was the nicest thing to have her here. I'm going to spend a lot of time on the QE2, I think.

Most beautiful lady in all the land:

We went to Jessica and Sarah's adorable Vintage Pop-up event. It was so great! And so busy. I'm so happy for them. It's nice that we make this city a place we want to be in. More of this, please. I bought a pendant from Jessica's line of accessories and haven't taken it off since. I don't think she has a site, but the line is called Chaos and the Dark and her stuff is great.

I got to spend some time with the Coe siblings, who are also the greatest. I love how they are together, they tumble over each other like puppies. They love and smash and are maniacs. I've been inducted as an honorary Coe, and I'm delighted. They are the best crew. Even Helen, who seems determined to take me for dim sum and make me eat chicken feet. This is the one she sent me in a to-go container. Ack!:

Things went a little sideways, as they do, and I feel like kind of a crappy friend now that the wine glow has gone out of my cheeks. It's no big deal really. Just sighing a lot today. I wish hearts were sturdier. I wish it were less easy for humans to jump to the worst conclusions. I'm a good friend. I really am, I swear. (Sorry guys. Too squishy, I know, but that's where I'm at today. Probably just a symptom of consecutive days of too much wine, mostly. So it goes. It's a lesson I've learned enough times.)

I'm on a sad movie kick lately, which isn't helping. I have decided to never watch anything with Charlotte Gainsbourg in it ever again. She is too good at tragedy and her performances always fuck me up for days. This one did me in a couple of days ago:

Most definitely time to get busy and stay busy. Less feeling, more doing.

SXSW adventure countdown is on. 9 days until I get on a plane, watch my troubles shrink until they are a tiny winter patchwork quilt thousands of feet below. Too tiny to see and too far away to fret over. I get approximately 200% more excited every day. At this rate I am just going to be howling the whole time we are there. Lifesaving, I have no doubt. There will be no time for sitting in the bathtub in Texas.

(This is a Maarten Donders drawing. He is awesome. Look at more of his stuff via Boooooom.com)


Ok, that's all.
xo