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.
The Edmonton weather can't decide what it is today, and it is kind of sunny with crunchy fall air, but the clouds are low and the air pressure is wrong, making it feel like a fat guy is sitting on my head. Or maybe it is just that I listened to this first thing when I got to work:
I like this record's bleakness, not the oppressive downer type, but rather like the whistful ghost that you KNOW haunts your creaky old workplace (I mean it, the Armoury is fucking spooktown) is singing her brittle feelings too close to your ear.
Classy move: their record is available for pay-what-you-want download here.
Speaking of brittle music, Doug thought it would be really funny to bash out a super quick and dirty song in his studio last night. No vocals yet, we're working up to it, in fact not really even verse/chorus structure in there yet, but I played drums, which was totally difficult for two main reasons:
1) I don't know how to play drums.
2) From what I can tell, playing drums is really hard.
We did it anyway, and the resulting song ("Fish Griwkowsky Panty Raid") is here if you care to listen to it. I still like you if you don't care to listen to it. We are just dicking around.
So there is this fashion blog called Oracle Fox that I was introduced to by Miss Genevieve Savard. Some of the narrative voices in it are a little pointy (I can't actually tell if it is a she or a they), but looking at fashion makes me want to make art for whatever reason (probably because I am too chubby and Edmontonian to actually be invested in fashion in any way other than aesthetic appreciation) and the fashion featured here is almost always my favorite. Anyway, they posted photos from the White Fairytale Ball and the decor is so DREAMY. It makes me want to throw a fabulous winter party for grown-ups where we all look nice and the food is just right and the music is nice and there are thoughtfully designed cocktails. Cufflinks. I want to see my friends wearing cufflinks. Anyway, here are the photos. If you feel equally inspired and want to co-pilot a winter ball please let me know asap.
(Sorry about the photos not fitting in the little middle colour bar. If I make them smaller you can't see the details)
Sigh.
Anyway, back to dirt-crusted real life.
Remember how I said that I was doing that hand-drawn animation and it was taking forfuckingever? Look at this one, done totally with markers on paper. Holy shit, animating the movement of water!?! Talentboner. I wish there was more colour, but still, talentboner. ***MAJOR WARNING BEFORE YOU WATCH THIS: The song that goes with it was so irritating that I was very tempted to stab through my eardrums with scissors. I very very strongly suggest you watch this with the sound off. If you ignore this warning, don't come crying to me when you have gagged to death from a twee overdose and have ended up trapped for eternity in a prison made of crystallized sugarfeelings.
Ok, here it is: Kijek/Adamski Pirate's Life - via BOOOOOOOM!
Ok. This has to be a short one, I guess. Time to do some real grown up job work. Here, why don't you call up a friend and dance all dirty:
As for today's recipe, I am kind of tired of eating after Thanksgiving. I don't know about you. Instead let me give you a secret eye make-up remover tip. Look in the pharmacy section of your drugstore or grocery store for rosewater and glycerine. It comes already blended: handy! It is usually in the section where they have Calamine lotion, mineral oil and other old-timey multi-purpose remedies. Save-On usually prices it at about 4 dollars for the generic brand. It works like a dream and isn't full of poisonous crap that you probably shouldn't be soaking your eyeballs in (seriously, when I read the ingredients labels in some of the stuff I put on my face I can feel myself getting wrinkly cancer). (Don't put it all over your face though, glycerine is pretty serious business in terms of moisturizing and might end up giving you zits if you're prone. Eye zone only!)
