No Explanation Required....

To quote my friend Paul: "Good Work"

I'm A "Winner"

Weeks of Self-Beratement For Getting Scammed End With Good News!!!

Remember back in August when I entered that photo contest? Well thanks to those of you who helped me pick the photo to submit (above), and you must have good taste or something because I won the second grand prize and got myself a cute little red ribbon and, oh yeah, also a new camera!!! About 2 weeks ago I already decided that the whole thing was a scam and that I was the most gullible person in the world for paying that $15 entry fee. But unless I am having one helluvan out-of-body experience, I am holding a Nikon D50 that feels remarkably tangible and sexy. Can a camera be sexy? This one is. Google it for yourself if you don't believe me. It has a really big...lens.

Anyhow, if someone would be willing to teach me how the hell to use it, I would be forever grateful, and in the meantime, I must confess it feels really good to be a "winner". I'm gonna pin my little red ribbon to my t-shirt and then put it in my scrap book right next to the "Participation" ribbon I got in grade 5 for doing the running long jump.

Why I Need Curtains

I have lived in my current apt. for about a year and a half. Free spirit that I am (or lazy person, whichever) I tend to walk around my place naked, or nearly so all the time. This has never been a problem because I am on the 4th floor with no windows looking directly into my apt from across the courtyard. There is however, a balcony, directly across that never seemed to get used. Until very recently, I had never seen anything but a thick layer of dust out there.

However, things have changed. I now have new neighbours, a lovely young couple, who've set up a little table and some flowers, it's very cozy. And, they are smokers so they spend a lot of time out there, soaking in the sun and the free show right across the way. The nerve of them using their balcony, I know!!!

Having already realized this, I am pretty careful; I had some bushy plants on a table out on MY balcony, so as to diffuse the view. But now that it's fall, I had to take my plants in and, well the thought of putting up sheers doesn't appeal, and I don't like having the windows covered anyways-- it's too DARK in here!

I may have to do something though, because last night I stepped out of the shower at around midnight, and wandered around getting ready to go out, in just my undies. Then I saw out of the corner of my eye, a little orange speck hovering in the darkness. Like a deer in the headlights, I froze, and leapt for the light switch. As my eyes adjusted, I made out the silhoutte of my nieghbour, casually leaning on his railing having a smoke, staring right into my apt, ever so calmly. I thought I even could make out a smirk on his lips.

Do they think I am an exhibitionist? God--what ELSE have they seen? What would you do if you were them? I mean, I think I'd watch, too, but I'd at least crouch down so they didn't have to know I was there.

Shit.

A Sulphurous Kind Of Funk

Let's talk about the word "funky". Possibly the most incorrectly used descriptive term in the English language.

Funky, according to thesaurus.com, has a few meanings:

1. Having an offensive smell; evil-smelling; foul.
2. Jazz. having an earthy, blues-based quality or character.
3. Overcome with great fear; terrified. (hmmm....didn't know that one)

A second set was even better:

4. Having a moldy or musty smell: funky cheese; funky cellars.
5. Having a strong, offensive, unwashed odor.
6. Music. Of or relating to music that has an earthy quality reminiscent of the blues. Combining elements of jazz, blues, and soul and characterized by syncopated rhythm and a heavy, repetitive bass line.
7. Slang. Earthy and uncomplicated; natural.

A little weird, the connection, but still all within the realm of acceptability. Kudos here, must be given to George Bush for his SERIOUS funk (see above, meaning #1).

I would like to argue for the addition of one further entry:

funk• funk·y
adj. funk·i·er, funk·i·est

8. Extrememly engaging music: heavy beat; listeners find it impossible not to move their asses when within auditory range. Uncontrollable backbone sliding ensues, and neck becomes loose.

See: Stevie Wonder, Parliament Funkadelic, Prince, Maxwell, Brand New Heavies, Average White Band, Tower of Power

Antonyms: Sheryl Crow; Shania Twain; The Barenaked Ladies; Nickleback

This blog was brought to you by "Hi! Can you play something a little....Funkier? Like maybe some Shania?"

Sighhhhh....DJing will be the death of me.

I Have Succumbed Baaaa-aa-aaaah

Oh God. What have I done?

Today started out nicely-- slept til 9:30, got up, went back to sleep, had breakfast, laughed lots, got on the scooter (which is working again--just needed some gas-- sorry for cursing you, Massimo, you little silver cutie) went for a ride. Then I went to visit my evil male counterpart, Good Friend Matt, the stylishest, handsomest homeowner west of Bathurst. We had fun: went to the secret Goodwill, went to Harvey's (they make excellent veggieburgers, and Matt wanted Poutine). Then-- and here's where looking back, I believe it all fell apart-- we walked along Bloor, and into the basement of Holt Renfrew to find other Good Friend, David who works there. I experienced an immediate queasiness as soon as I walked in, half legit, half imagined. Everyone was too good looking, too...... with it. One massive, sudden clausterphobic rush and I was out of there. We continued on, and suddenly I realized what the problem was: I was looking for a cellphone. I had joined the other side. Holy shit!

Why do I need a cell phone? I don't, actually. I used to have one, and it got lost, and I never felt the need to replace it. Life was so much more relaxed without it. I DON'T WANT A CELL PHONE!!!! Yes I do. I need it for work, I need it for safety, I need it for--let's face it--convenience. My cell phone clad friends have hinted more than once that I am becoming a phone mooch. "Get your own!" they'd cry as they handed over their little beeping, vibrating toys. But what about the environment? The package it came in was really small, almost all recyclable. And I promise to use the phone til death (its) does us part.

What about the cancer? Well, chances are 1 in 2 I'm gonna get it anyways. I'll use a headset.

What about the inevitable rude behaviour that accompanies cellphone use? Ok, I promise not to talk in restaurants, on the bus, while walking down the street, while standing/walking with my companion who is on his/her cell phone. I promise not to shout into it, download any ringtones-- free or otherwise-- promise not to have Beyonce announce that I have a missed call or new message; promise not to get addcited to Asteroids or whatever games are on there-- I won't even look. I promise not to enjoy using it, and to call my mom more often? And how about this: I promise to stop preaching to eveyone how lame they are for having cellphones. No wait, I'll preach more?!!

Well, one good thing: I'll won't need an iPod now, cuz it has a built-in Mp3 player ;)

Kat

David Miller is Hotter Than Brad Pitt

Ok, so tonight, I have had the highlight of my 2006 filmfest experience--and possibly all filmfest experiences! Mayor David Miller came into The Rosewater tonight for a fundraising campaign. He stopped to listen to me sing, (god love'm) and gave me a thumbs up. A few minutes later I was on break, so I went downstairs to gawk at him. He's really tall, by the way. I was feeling bold, so I walked over as he took a bite of his vegan spring roll and introduced myself. We got to blabbing for about 10 minutes (he's SOOO nice!) and I told him I'd be calling him soon to discuss my thesis-- which is a city-based idea concerning the Toronto Taxicab industry-- and he said he was looking forward to it. He sounded sincere! A while later, when he left, he gave me his assistant's card, and said I should be in touch because he might like to hire my band for some upcoming events. SooooOOO excited!!!

Anyhow: have a new favourite website: Toronto Public Space Committee.Check it out. The group of people behind this site are doing KILLER work...more on them later, I have homework to procrastinate from!
k

I'm leaving you for Tim Robbins....

(The coffee that seemed like a good idea at 11pm wasn't)

I could stick out my tongue and lick Tim Robbins at this party I'm DJing for The Toronto International Film Festival (hereafter known as "film fest", or "that September thing that always gives me bronchitis"). He's dancing his ass off right beside the DJ booth--one of those black glob-like Karim Rashid Dj booths, I might add, that I feel slightly dirty and ashamed for having to use.

I'd like to tell you I'm not freaking out when Sean Penn walks in, because I'd seem so much cooler, but fukit-- I'm totally quivery. Not because he's famous, but because, well, he's got that mustach that I just can't seem to hate, and those eyes, that say "love me" but scare me just a little bit. And then there's Demi and Ashton, who I have to say, are very obviously totally in love with each other. Look at them! They're adorable.

There's Mark Ruffalo. He looks like that guy you went to high school with who was in Drama club-- the cute, but slightly nerdy guy who now is working out and has a great haircut and of course, years too late (after you turned him down for the prom) is a total babe, dimples and all. Steven Speilberg is wearing a baseball hat. I hardly recognize him!

I think I just saw Justin Timberlake dancing to his own song. Amazingly, this is sexy, rather than disgusting. Oh, it's Brad Pitt's party, (I think this is the after party for "Babel" but nobody's allowed to tell me anything) but he must be hiding, because he is nowhere to be seen. Unless that's him over there with the big blonde beard and the long and shaggy hair, and then, yup, I see him and he's looking like shit. No sign of Angelina baby, sadly.

Hmmm...I gave out a lot of cards tonight. One to that very tall good looking man who turns out to be a very famous director. What was his name again? Yeah, call me, sweetie! I'll come to Hollywood and DJ your party. NOoooooo problem!!!

Christian Slater's here? I thought he was dead?!

My favourite two moments of the evening so far:

I'm bent over my cases, looking for the next song. Madonna's "Hung Up" is currently playing. I feel a light breeze, and then this old guy slaps my arm roughly, like he knows me. "Hey! Kill the Madonna. Sean Penn's here." I am aware of this, and smile, thinking he's being funny. His eyes bulge out a bit, and he goes, "Seriously!!!!" and gestures to the turn tables. Oh. I suppose I should have thought of this, but, what's a girl to do? He's still standing there, like there's something I'm supposed to be doing. Uh....I am pretty sure ripping the song off midway and leaving a big hanging pocket of silence MIGHT be even more noticable than sneaking the song off quietly into the next tune. Anyhow, I would think Sean's heard one or two of her songs, say on the radio or something, maybe once or twice in the last 20 years or so since they broke up? I'm not too worried about him. Sean's a big boy. But, still, I guess I could have been more...sensitive.

Moment number two:

The party is scheduled to end at 4am. But, it's an open bar and the models are sashaying angrily and more and more flamboyantly/wobbly as time ticks on, and by now everyone is wasted and dancing. Tim Robbins is gorgeous, by the way, and a fairly good dancer. He smiles and closes his eyes a bit. I come to the last song, and everyone's yelling at me for more. Irritating, usually, but then suddely I'm looking up, way, way up, into the eyes of Shawshank's most well liked banker, who grabs my hand and says "please?????" with those big puppy dog eyes (and did I mention the dimples?) He wants to hear some Prince. Well shucks, who am I to say no to that?

I guess if Tim Robbins is begging you for more music, you can say it's been a good party.






Ok boys! No fighting!!! There's plenty of me to go around. I'll be finished soon, if you'd all just stop dancing! Muah!!!

Wonder Worm Yellow

Not that I'm pointing any fingers (Blogger, Myspace, Youtube) but since I've joined various online networks, I have been receiving a lot of spam. $eriou$ $hitl0ad$ of HuGE!!!!! Gigantic cum $ee it if you don't beeleeve it $pam. I have particularily been enjoying the subject titles, and have been compiling a list of my favourites. I have the following list saved as a document on my desktop called : "potential bandnames/creative spamming101"



Charlie sounds colour screens
Rich Famous
use sugarless candy or gum, melt bits of ice in your mouth,
Wonder Worm Yellow
Avoid augmentation capsules.
Pets President faces
rumble
Bringing mynipples together
lead Kisses
Portuguese swarm
hierarchical wrought iron
Sets Apartment quotSmoke LoveLove
Klonopin and propoxyphene did not cause birth defects in animals There
public education better bettering
No dance on tulip
was out of their arms except when I held her
I buy to gecko poolroom
amen abandoned
be
pimp Four
An count in gyrate designing
I eat the tonal quintet diabetic
Books over free
At find it shaped companion hardtop
on forget go sobriety cannibalize
translate a destiny
guacamole experimental
horror unmoved
Merry Christmas Roller
Gavin, I'll be there in about 8 minutes
I send the living warn
see or fondly
In forget my honesty quietude
expanded lotta
impatient mango

The following is a paragraph that was attached to one really helpful email called "respectersnob" about a HOT STOCK TIP for something called CIVX, which apparently is EXTREMEYUNDERVALUED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

cobalt loaf lumpy orkney pepsi desegregate weco sanatoria religiosity circumcise hoosegow mezzanine benjamin airport foodstuff danube seriatim marvelous citywide theodore alcoholism johansen angry indigo hijack necessitate commingle suntanned implacable tumult childbirth dale lymphocyte tall plebian fungicide buttercup bernardino static biotic fosterite cuisine bravado hue cilia calendar callus upheaval company past clitoris windowpane recife satyr curve logic mcfarland rebutted phyla romantic degrade rickshaw houdini gases control urban prolific cannery taxiway fingerprint anthracite beginning curtail dispense travelogue oocyte


My friends and I, extreme nerds, as you have figured out by now, enjoyed making sentences out of it: Lumpy Benjamin hijack(s) tall plebian clitorus. Circumcise angry suntanned romantic!! You get the idea. Sounds kind of like the guy from Everything Is Illuminated: vocabulary: excellent, comprehension: not so much.



Have a prolific, cobalt day,

Kat

Speak For Yourself

I am totally obsessing over this album. Imogen Heap is a genius, and the sooner you pick up her album "Speak For Yourself" the happier you will be.



Also loving El Perro Del Mar's self titled album and Jim Noir's "Tower of Love", which will be the happiest, coziest, sanity-savingest album of the winter season, according to recent polls (conducted in my living room). Don't forget, I'm playing tonight at Grafitti's at 5pm. Come if you can!

WALL + PAPER II

Here are some images of my installation currently at XPACE. The first one is the digital rendering I mocked up before the install, and the other two are of the actual piece. It doesn't photograph very well as a large piece, but the detail is a pretty good representation. The string on the floor in front of the piece read "My cat's cradle fingers can whip your Nintendo Thumb" and if you read the post on this blog of the same title, you will know where I was going with that. The string got stepped on a million times at the opening, but that is good, because that means there were tons of people there.

The show as a whole is pretty damn good. There are about 20 artists/designers each with a 12 x 12 foot space to fill, and I was impressed with the breadth and originality of most (not all) of the pieces. You should go. The show closes next sunday.

So Small And Yet SOOOO Irritating

I know that is what the people in the coffee shop this morning were thinking about me but that is not what this post is about. This post is a warning. It's about something small and seemingly harmless that's costing you tens of wasted minutes per year. It's the automated voice at the end of your pre-recorded blow-off that says: "At the tone, please leave a message. After you have finished recording, please hang up, or press 1 for more options."

I remember when automated answering machines took the place of the little black, white or brown boxes we all kept beside our phones that had names like the GT T240 or the CanFone Easy Button. Do not mistake this for nostalgia, I do not miss you at all, my little 10 pound, 60 dollar, cassette eating, landfill lining friends. My point is: that was a long time ago. Most of us pay the (ripoff of) 7 bucks a month for voicemail now, and have been doing so for, like, 10 years. I THINK WE KNOW THAT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE A GODDAM MESSAGE AFTER THE GODDAM BEEP BY NOW!!!

That is all. Sorry for my rage. Good day to you.